African Union Headquarters, Addis Ababa.

A tense and fiercely debated closed-door meeting had just ended.

The doors of the conference hall opened, and representatives from various countries filed out, their expressions varied—some relieved, some with furrowed brows, and others visibly dissatisfied and helpless.

The air seemed to still carry the scent of verbal gunfire from earlier debates.

The Chairman of the African Union Peace and Security Council (PSC), Ambassador Olusegun from Nigeria, was among the last to leave the room.

His face was weary, but there was a hint of barely noticeable relief deep in his eyes. He quickly headed towards his office, his secretary close behind.

"Mr. Chairman, the draft statement has been finalized according to the meeting's resolutions. Please review and approve it."

The secretary handed over a document.

Adedayo took the document but didn't look at it immediately. Instead, he hastily entered his office, closed the door, and let out a long sigh, as if shedding a burden of a thousand pounds.

He walked to the window and gazed at the cityscape of Addis Ababa, silent for a moment.

The secretary waited quietly.

"The British... and the Americans... their pressure was unprecedented..."

Adedayo didn't turn around, his voice low, as if talking to himself or to the secretary, "They deemed this a 'coup' that must be corrected, demanding the AU fulfill its duty to maintain regional peace. They even hinted that if action wasn't taken, it would affect future aid and cooperation."

He turned around, his face showing a complex expression, blending resignation with a certain firm refusal: "Lumar... he reached out to some country representatives who have good relations with us, swearing that he is the only legitimate resistance force, promising enormous rewards once he 'sets things right'... even including mining rights for several key resources."

He shook his head, his tone carrying a hint of sarcasm, "The cry of a cornered beast is always alluring and dangerous."

The secretary cautiously asked, "So... what is our final decision?"

Adedayo picked up the statement draft, his gaze falling on the core content, his eyes becoming sharp: "The AU is not a tool of any major power, nor a bargaining chip for a disenchanted warlord! The situation in Sena is extremely complex, with Du Er's regime's legitimacy itself questionable. Its governance failure leading to public unrest is also a fact. The transitional government led by Isis has received some level of acceptance from the Sen Capital and a majority of the populace... more importantly,"

He emphasized, pointing at the statement draft.

"Especially now that those supporting Isis include Song Heping, and this guy is not someone to be trifled with. This mess was caused by the British and French over there, expecting us to clean it up as if I haven't had Western bread before and have no intelligence?"

Images of cold descriptions from the intelligence briefing about the Presidential Mansion raid and shell-topped executions seemed to flash before Adedayo's eyes.

Such decisive and unyielding actions sent a chill down his spine.

"Rashly deploying peacekeeping forces would likely result in a direct confrontation with this strong, localized armed force!"

Adedayo's voice carried indisputable determination, "That would not be peacekeeping, but inviting disaster! It would drag the entire West Africa into an unpredictable proxy war! The AU cannot and absolutely will not take that risk!"

He picked up a pen and solemnly signed his name at the end of the draft statement.

"Release it immediately."

Somewhere in the East, deep in the mountains far from the city, lies an unmarked building.

This is the nerve center of the 203 Special Forces.

The enormous electronic display on the wall was divided into different sections, flashing real-time data and satellite images from around the world.

The atmosphere was filled with the low hum characteristic of efficient machines and a faint ozone smell. The mood was serious and intense.

An electronic intelligence briefing marked "Top Secret/Sena Situation Assessment" quietly displayed on the screen of a military laptop.

The briefing was impressively detailed: from the tactical details of the "Musician's" raid on the President's Mansion, the collapse and capture of Du Er, analysis of Isis taking power, to the intense maneuvering between the UK, France, and the US within the UN and AU, Lumar's rebel army's current situation and plight, even the key points of a secret meeting between DGSE commissioners and Isis...

Details were all-encompassing, as if a god-like eye was overlooking everything happening in Sena.

The conclusion at the end of the briefing was highlighted in bold: "The operation led by Song Heping, codenamed 'Ghost,' was tactically efficient and precise, strategically leveraging the Franco-British conflict to temporarily dismantle Western (especially UK and US) intentions for direct military intervention.

The likelihood of AU troop deployment is currently assessed as low.

Lumar's rebel forces in eastern Sena are isolated and on the verge of morale collapse, expected to be eliminated shortly."

Sitting in front of the spacious console, Lei Ming, the deputy captain of the 203 Special Forces, fixated on the details of Song Heping's orchestrated actions and the current international maneuvering situation displayed in the briefing.

A subtle, uncontrollable smile of strong surprise and a peculiar pride, like a stone thrown into a calm lake, spread quickly across his otherwise rock-hard lips.

"Heh..."

A low chuckle rolled out from his throat. The laugh seemed particularly abrupt in the quiet control room.

Next to him, the chief intelligence analyst, Lao Zhao, who was sorting data, and the tactical instructor "Bayonet" Liu, who was simulating a war game scenario, involuntarily paused their actions and looked up at Lei Ming in surprise.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com