The air in the underground command post was unbearably stuffy.
Everyone's forehead was covered in sweat, and the sour smell of sweat-soaked military uniforms filled each person's nostrils...
The ventilation system had long been out of commission from previous shelling, relying only on a few emergency generators to weakly drive the fans, like a drop in the ocean.
The radio channels were filled with static hissing, and the voices of the staff officers were hoarse, rapidly repeating orders and receiving battle reports, their voices distorted from extreme fatigue and tension.
Song Heping stood before the gigantic operations sand table, his gaze always fixed on the miniature model of Halaib City.
On it, the red flags and arrows representing enemy forces had already, like malignant cancer spots, deeply infiltrated the core area of the city, resembling bloodthirsty red pythons, madly entwining and biting the defensive line marked in blue.
