Chapter 1824 - 1383: Self-Destruction Ritual

After finishing the call with Milosh, Song Heping sat in the dark, watching the hands of the luminous wristwatch on the table.

The second hand moved with each tick, each second like a heartbeat, steadily and inexorably advancing towards some unknown conclusion.

After sitting briefly for three minutes, he decided to go to the briefing room to look over the entire operation process.

Although he sensed that something would definitely go wrong.

5:25.

Baghdad time 5:25 AM, Washington time 9:25 PM.

The lights in the circular hall of the Pentagon's National Military Command Center were set to a soft amber hue.

Twelve senior military officers and civilian officials sat in front of the arc-shaped control panel, each with multiple screens in front of them.

The central big screen displayed real-time footage from Mosul Base command, Duke's video window, and an overhead drone view of Badi Town.

In Duke's video feed, he stood with his back straight, his voice steady and clear: "Target confirmed inside the building. Perimeter lockdown completed. Delta Force has reached the final standby point. Expected breach at exactly six o'clock, contact time within two minutes of breach."

In a small window beside the video feed, a three-star general nodded, his voice transmitted through a secure line with a slight electronic filtering sound: "Approved for execution. God bless those boys."

Duke cut the video link.

In the briefing room at Mosul Base, he took a deep breath and picked up the transmitter.

"All units, operation commence. Repeat, operation commence. Time is now 5:30. Execute as per schedule."

Two kilometers outside Badi Town, a dry riverbed.

Six modified M1152A1 Hummers idled in the riverbed's shadow, the hoods draped with desert camouflage netting.

Twenty-four Delta Force soldiers completed their final equipment checks: each outfitted with an HK416D rifle with SOCOM silencer, AN/PVS-31 binocular night vision, IBA bulletproof vest with ESAPI Bullet-Proof Plate, six M84 shock bombs, and two door-breaching C4 packs.

Each helmet equipped with an IR light, emitting a faint red glow visible in night vision for close-range friend-or-foe identification.

Captain Marcus raised his left wrist, glancing at his military watch.

5:31.

He raised his right fist, then quickly opened his five fingers—disperse and advance.

The team members moved like two streams of black water, silently seeping into the ruins maze of Badi Town.

They avoided the streets and instead navigated through the broken walls of building ruins, using every shadow and every fragment as cover.

The night vision rendered the world in varying shades of green, with thermal imaging displaying signs of life.

A stray cat darted from the rubble, leaving a fleeting orange trail in infrared vision; a few rats rummaged through a pile of garbage; a faint warm light flickered in a half-collapsed house in the distance—it could be some residents already up early.

But there were no thermal signals of armed personnel, no sentries, no thermal signatures of vehicle engines.

The entire town felt like an abandoned cemetery.

This was too smooth.

A faint alarm rang in Marcus's head.

After twenty years in a warzone, he understood one thing, going too smoothly often means you've walked into a trap.

But he suppressed his doubts and continued to advance according to the planned route.

Orders are orders, plans are plans, Delta's motto is "smoothness is the son of preparation," they prepared for three months, it should be smooth.

Team A reached the designated north position, fifty meters from the west wall of the target building. A brick wall half-demolished by shelling provided perfect cover.

The team members crouched, gun muzzles pointed at the building, fingers on the trigger guards, awaiting the final command.

Team B arrived almost simultaneously at the southern position, concealed behind the ruins of an abandoned store.

The drone real-time footage showed two green triangle markers already adhered to the north and south sides of the red square.

"Team A, in position."

"Team B, in position."

Duke's voice came through the headset: "Execute as scheduled. Prepare for breach."

Marcus made a hand gesture.

Two breachers advanced and installed a linear cutting wire on the concrete perimeter wall.

The goal was not to demolish the entire wall but to cut out an 80-centimeter diameter circular opening, enough for an individual to quickly pass through.

The amount of explosive was precisely calculated, keeping the sound under 90 decibels, almost indistinguishable in the early morning wind.

"Breach ready. Three, two, one—"

A low, dull thud, like someone slamming a metal door heavily from afar.

Concrete fragments spattered inward, leaving an almost perfect circular opening on the wall with neat edges.

Almost simultaneously, a similar dull thud came from the south side.

Team B breached the wall in sync.

Marcus was the first through the wall opening, rifle shouldered, night vision scanning the courtyard quickly. The courtyard was empty, with only a few clumps of dead weeds and a rusty gasoline barrel.

He signaled: advance, alternating cover.

The team members filed in, moving in pairs, backs to each other, muzzles pointing toward all possible threat directions.

Windows, doorways, roof edges, courtyard corners.

The tactical flashlight beam flashed momentarily, mainly used to confirm details in the shadows, relying mostly on night vision and the spatial memory formed from long-term training.

The front door on the ground floor was wooden, appearing old and weathered, but as Marcus approached, he noticed the door frame was made of steel channel, and the lock was a German-made ABUS heavy-duty padlock.

This was unreasonable!

Rural residences wouldn't use such a high-grade anti-theft lock.

"Breach."

A team member stepped forward, swiftly installing a C4 charge at the lock position.