Persian Plateau, at the training grounds of the secret camp.
The sky was just getting light, and the cold air was filled with the scent of dust and sweat.
Over a hundred militia from different ethnic groups were undergoing tense tactical training under the reprimands of their instructors: disassembling firearms, group coordination, tactical charges…
Their movements, though still somewhat raw, faintly bore the semblance of elite troops.
Song Heping stood silently on the high ground at the edge of the field, watching everything.
Naxin stood beside him, holding a training log.
"Overall progress is significant."
Naxin reported, with a hint of satisfaction in his tone, "Especially those veteran squads from Samir's old unit, they're learning quickly and have a strong will to fight. It's just... everyone is privately asking, when can we go back to Illiguo to settle accounts with those bastards from Organization 1515?"
