The news almost simultaneously reached the "Musician" Defense Command in Libya.

Thick curtains blocked the Mediterranean's sunlight and noise, with only the eerie blue glow of communication equipment inside the room.

Henry stood in front of the enormous tactical map, his brow furrowed, finger heavily tapping on the spot representing Jebut Port, "Mr. Song, Terry's been thrown out as a scapegoat. Although it temporarily suppressed the volcanic media, Vincent and those at the White House won't give up! They're just lying low in Jebut! With the CIA's control over the media, it won't take five days, at most a week, for the news about the 'Marlin Fish' to be drowned by new headlines! By then, that damned ship will set sail immediately, speeding towards Benghazi! If that batch of weapons gets into Sayif's hands..."

"By that time..."

Henry's voice was filled with anxiety and helplessness, "...we won't have any cards to stop it! The US military ships are surrounding it like an iron barrel, and now in the port, not even a fly can get close! No matter how wild the jackals on the Dark Web become, they can't gnaw on this hard bone!"

Song Heping still sat in the large leather chair, his demeanor could even be described as relaxed.

His gaze calmly swept over the glaring red circle on the tactical map representing Sawinu, covered by signs of intense artillery fire.

To Henry's anxiety, he merely responded with a light "hmm," as if the giant ship carrying lethal weapons was just a trivial matter.

"Henry."

After a long while, Song Heping finally spoke.

"You've only seen the waves on the surface, but forgotten the vortex of the storm."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze as sharp as a knife.

"As long as that ship hasn't truly docked at Libya's pier and handed over those weapons to Sayif... it won't be safe for a single day. The bounty has already been raised to 1.5 billion US Dollars..."

A hint of a smile appeared on his face, and then he clicked his tongue and shook his head, as if savoring the allure of that 1.5 billion dollars.

"That's really not a small amount... It's enough to drive countless hyenas hiding in the shadows completely insane. We just need to sit back and watch. The show is far from over."

"Then..."

Henry wanted to express his concerns, but Song Heping gave no chance, waving his hand, "Continue gathering intelligence on 'Marlin Fish' by all means, the other matters aren't something you can control, leave them to me."

"Alright..."

Henry still had a lot on his mind, but he was aware of Song Heping's character.

Although this matter seemed extremely urgent, looking back at the previous shadowy battles with the CIA, Song Heping had never really lost.

"I'll be heading out then."

"Mm, go do your things."

After Henry left, Song Heping picked up an encrypted phone and dialed a number.

A few seconds later, Haftar's slightly anxious face appeared on the screen.

Outside the tent behind him, the muffled sound of shelling was faintly heard.

"General."

Song Heping's voice carried no pleasantries, directly cutting to the core with an indisputable tone of command.

"The battle in Sawinu is at a stalemate, and I've seen enough. Your troops are bogged down in urban warfare. Sayif has caught his breath, he's redeployed Benghazi's last 3,000 reserves, heading for Sawinu! He's trying to pin you down here!"

Haftar's cheek muscles twitched violently, a trace of embarrassed realization and deeper anxiety flashed in his eyes, "Mr. Song, the GNA bastards are fighting tenaciously in the ruins! Every street, every building is spitting fire! My men pay a bloody toll for each step forward! Reinforcements..."

"There is no time!"

Song Heping interrupted him, his tone abruptly intensifying.

"Sayif is gambling! He's betting on that ship, betting the Americans will support him, betting on whether you can take Sawinu before the arms reach Benghazi, threatening his base! He's pulled out the last of Benghazi's garrison, going all in to wear you down at Sawinu. Once those weapons land and reinforcements from the west arrive simultaneously... tell me, Haftar, what will you use to stop him?"

"I..." Haftar was speechless.

Song Heping's gaze seemed to pierce through the screen, directly stabbing at Haftar's soul, "Three days! I'm giving you only three days! Within three days, Sawinu must fly your flag! Then, keep going, head straight for Benghazi! Strike him at his weakest! Otherwise..."

He paused, his voice carrying the low pressure of an approaching storm, "...once his guns and cannons arrive, lying in the ruins will be you and your soldiers' corpses! You should be very clear about the stakes."

"Yes! I'm very clear..."

Haftar shivered sharply, the last trace of hesitation in his eyes replaced by resoluteness, he struck his chest heavily in front of the screen.

"Three days! Sawinu must be taken, or I'll personally lead the charge on the third day!"

The screen went dark.

Song Heping sat in the chair pondering for a moment, half a minute later, he put down the phone without any pause, grabbed the desert camo jacket hanging on the chair back and swiftly put it on, "Henry, prepare the car. To Sawinu."

"Now? It's too dangerous!"

Henry exclaimed.

The red and blue circles overlapping on the map of Sawinu presented an interlocking pattern, all concentrated in the city.

"That's right."

Song Heping fastened the last button, his expression terrifyingly calm.

"I feel I must go to the front line to see what's really happening there."

Several hours later.

Sawinu, the antechamber to Hell.

The bulletproof vehicle stopped behind a relatively dominating ruin on the city outskirts, Song Heping opened the door and stepped out, a thick smoky scent hit his face.

The air was also filled with an overwhelming stench of blood and the scorched smell of building dust, making it nauseating.

Explosive bursts of fire flashed intermittently across the city, each flicker accompanied by a muffled boom and a tremor through the ground.

Tracer rounds frantically wove a web of death in the dim twilight and pervasive smoke.

Buildings groaned and collapsed under bombardment, the rising dust obscured the already dim skylight.

Haftar's mobilization clearly had an effect, or rather, Song Heping's "three-day deadline" ignited their determination for a desperate fight.

The Hafter's forces soldiers, clad in dusty yellow combat uniforms, surged wave after wave through the city's ruined entrance like a breached flood.

The mortar shells whistled as they smashed into suspected GNA firing points, exploding into fireballs enveloped in debris and severed limbs.

Armored vehicles covered the infantry, unleashing their heavy machine guns and rocket launchers on any target daring to show itself, a storm of metal tearing through the air.

However, the resistance from the GNA forces was more frantic and effective than expected.

They utilized their familiarity with the terrain, breaking into small groups, lurking in half-collapsed buildings, rubble-filled basements, and the crisscrossing narrow alleyways.

RPG-7 rockets, with ear-piercing screeches, were fired from unexpected corners, precisely flipping over the lead armed pickups, their explosive shockwaves tossing nearby soldiers like ragdolls.

Sniper shots were like the Grim Reaper's scythe, each gunshot almost always meant a soldier's head or chest exploding in a burst of blood, falling lifelessly.

Heavy machine gun positions were cunningly set behind robust concrete rubble fortifications, crossfire blocking critical streets, stubbornly suppressing the assault waves at the intersections, leaving corpses lying in pools of blood and wounded soldiers wailing in pain.

The battle had completely devolved into the most brutal and life-consuming urban combat quagmire.

Every street and alley fight turned into a relentless tug-of-war.

Haftar's forces paid a heavy price, just having cleared one building, they might suddenly be retaken by rockets fired from the flank or GNA soldiers emerging from tunnels with grenades and automatic rifles.

The ruins were strewn with twisted bodies of soldiers from both sides, blood soaked through the rubble, pooling into dark red streams in low-lying areas.

The screams of the injured, the hoarse roars of officers, the thudding of bullets against walls, the roaring of exploding shells...

Intertwined into a nerve-shattering death symphony.

Song Heping stood beside the command vehicle, holding a high-powered binoculars, calmly observing the battlefield.

The firelight illuminated his hard-lined face, his gaze through the binocular lenses swept over every stalemated neighborhood, every window spitting deathly flames.

He saw the bravery of Haftar's forces, and also the desperate resilience of the GNA soldiers.

Time ticked away, each second meaning the loss of more lives, yet the progress of the front lines was frustratingly slow.

While observing the battlefield, Haftar hurried over.

"Mr. Song... I..."

He meant to explain why, since their conversation this afternoon, several hours had passed and the urban combat in Sawinu still seemed to have made no progress.

But Song Heping interrupted him, raised his hand signaling him not to speak, and continued watching the distant clash through the high-powered binoculars, as meticulously as a doctor analyzing an X-ray.

Suddenly, a Haftar front-line commander, face covered in smoke and bloodstains, stumbled over, his voice almost lost to hoarseness: "General! East sector... D3 district! We've charged three times! We've lost almost two platoons! They... they've blown up the building to block the intersection! The machine-gun fire is too strong! There are also sniper shots from the flanks! We can't get through! Requesting artillery cover! Flatten that area completely!"

"We don't have that many shells! Hold on a bit, try using RPGs!"

"Tried it, but the RPG's penetration power is mediocre and it's a direct-fire weapon, its power is not great, not effective at all..."

"I understand!"

Haftar waved his hand: "Go, tell your men to hold the line, stop the offensive for now, wait for the artillery shells to arrive."

"Yes, General!"

After the front-line officer left, Song Heping put down his binoculars, his brow furrowed slightly.

Flatten it?

Just then, the satellite phone in his pocket vibrated.

He opened the message, revealing just one line:

[Wild Dogs Leaving the Nest. Target: Sawinu. Number: Three thousand. Expected Arrival: Within 72 hours.]

Song Heping's eyes slightly narrowed.

Sayif indeed staked everything.

He redeployed all three thousand troops from Benghazi, sending them into the meat grinder of Sawinu with only one goal — to pin down Haftar's elite forces here at all costs!

Previously, he thought it would take at least five days for these reinforcements to assemble, depart, and arrive.

Now it seemed that, on the brink of life and death, Sayif was no fool, knowing the importance of Sawinu and going all-in with his chips on the table.

This implied that the Americans must have made promises, guaranteeing that weapons would soon arrive in Benghazi.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have recklessly redeployed the garrison troops defending Benghazi, thus if they couldn't hold Sawinu, Benghazi would be laid bare, and could fall simultaneously, effortlessly.

But as long as Sayif held out during these most difficult three days, awaited reinforcements from the west, and awaited the life-saving munitions arriving at Jebut Port...

The tide of battle would reverse in an instant!

Time, became the deadliest poison.

Three days, Sawinu must be captured, threatening Benghazi!

Otherwise, all would be for naught!

Unless one could truly destroy the "Marlin Fish," otherwise, what he would face would be a complete mess.

Commanding a battle, victory or defeat often hinges on a subtle key point, a critical turning point, and this key point is clearly Sawinu.

This major town in Northern Libya has become the gambling table for both sides.

Sayif has gone all in.

What about himself?

Should he follow?

If he could successfully destroy the "Marlin Fish," it would be the most effective winning move — Sayif would completely lose any chance of a comeback, and the GNA defenders in Sawinu and those three thousand reinforcements would see their morale crumble instantly.

But...

Jebut Port is heavily guarded by the US Army, its defenses as tight as a drum, and although the bounty stands at 1.5 billion US Dollars, no one knows if anyone dares to touch that forbidden zone...

How likely is success?

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by lotustale.com