330: Communication interference

When the words "Target neutralized, area silent" came through the encrypted channel, Lin Wei was working in the wheel bay of hope.

She crouched on the ground and unscrewed the final bolt.

Hearing this, she didn't stop her hands, but her ears perked up immediately.

The voice was faint, like wind blowing over sheet metal, but she heard it clearly.

Su Ling's mission was complete.

She put down the wrench and crawled out of the wheel bay.

Her glove brushed against the edge of the vehicle body, leaving an oil smudge.

Her twin tails were stuck to her shoulders by static electricity, the ends slightly frizzy.

She ignored this, turned around, pulled open the passenger door, and climbed into the control cabin.

The seat still held the warmth left by the previous person.

She sat down, her back against the cushion, and pressed her fingers directly onto the holographic screen.

The kindling system appeared before her, emitting a faint blue light.

She opened the electronic warfare module, and a frequency graph popped up on the screen.

On the left was a scrolling stream of signals; green for her own side, red for the enemy.

The Imperial Army's communications were concentrated between 7.8 and 8.2 GHz, using frequency-hopping encryption.

But every three minutes, it would return to the base frequency; this was their synchronization time.

This vulnerability was found in equipment Chen Wang had captured in the past, and Lin Wei had memorized it.

She clicked on the "Swarm Jamming Module"; the icon looked like a hexagonal honeycomb, with some wear on the edges.

This thing was originally meant for dealing with drones; its power wasn't high, only capable of covering less than two kilometers.

But it wasn't enough now.

She needed it to hold out for at least five minutes to suppress the command communications of the entire valley.

She entered the background parameter interface and manually rewrote the pulse waveform.

She changed the original narrowband noise to a wideband pseudo-random signal and added three layers of harmonic interference.

This wasn't a built-in feature of the system; it was a method she had repeatedly deduced in her mind last night.

Once running, the core temperature would exceed the safety value within ninety seconds, potentially burning out the circuits.

But she had no other choice.

Her finger hovered over the confirm button for a second, then pressed down.

The system hummed, the vehicle's power dropped by 12%, and the life support system's light flashed yellow.

Lin Wei didn't look.

The interference signal had been sent, and the waveforms on the screen began to jump.

A thick white line crossed the center, perfectly suppressing the enemy's main frequency band.

Three seconds later, the red dots began to flicker.

Down in the valley, the Imperial Army's communications were having problems.

First came piercing noises in the headsets, then intermittent speech, and finally, only static remained.

An officer tapped his tactical tablet, discovering that orders couldn't be sent out.

Artillerymen on the other side tried to call for support, but only their own distorted voices came through the channel.

Someone looked up at the sky, thinking it was weather-related, but there were no clouds, and the wind wasn't strong.

The command system was broken.

With no orders, all units stopped.

The transport convoy dared not move forward, the engineering vehicles stopped working, and the patrol squads gathered together without anyone to command them.

The once-orderly offensive suddenly turned into chaos.

Soldiers crowded onto the ice path, shouting loudly, but because communication was cut off, no one could contact anyone else.

Lin Wei stared at the screen, biting on a pen cap.

This was her habit; whenever she was nervous, she wanted to find something to bite.

There were already several tooth marks on the edge of the pen cap, and the paint had worn off.

Her eyes didn't leave the screen as her right hand quickly swiped across the panel, switching to the signal feedback interface.

Suppression rate: 83.1%.

Still not enough.

The enemy had already started switching to backup channels.

Two nodes had jumped to 6.5 GHz; although the speed was slow, they could barely communicate.

She immediately adjusted the jamming range, pulling the frequency of the Swarm Module down.

At the same time, she activated the second jamming source—a transmitter she had modified from a scrapped radio, hidden in the chassis interlayer of hope.

The second wave of interference was sent, and the red dots at 6.5 GHz went out again.

Suppression rate rose to 87.3%.

She let out a breath, her forehead sweating.

The cabin was cold, but this sweat slid down her temple, gathered into a drop on her chin, and fell onto the console, creating a small circle of moisture.

She didn't wipe it away; her finger remained hovering over the emergency stop button, ready to cut the power at any moment to prevent system backlash.

Outside, it was still snowing and windy, the wind making the vehicle body howl.

hope was hiding in a snow pit, half-buried in the snow, with only the antenna on top exposed, continuously emitting invisible electromagnetic waves.

Lin Wei knew that as long as she didn't stop, the enemy couldn't rebuild their command network.

She glanced at the timer: she had been jamming for 2 minutes and 17 seconds.

According to the plan, this time was enough for the rear to reorganize resources and for other units to redeploy.

But she couldn't stop.

Although the enemy was in chaos, they hadn't dispersed yet.

As long as one channel recovered, they could organize a counterattack.

She had to drag the time out longer.

She called up the module temperature data; the core was already at 91 degrees, and the warning line was 95.

Only 4 degrees left.

She turned the cooling system to maximum, the sound of the liquid cooling pump growing louder, buzzing like an old refrigerator starting up.

The cooling vent sprayed out white mist, which quickly frosted over in the cold air.

She continued to stare at the screen.

Suddenly, a red dot flashed at the 7.1 GHz position, disappearing in less than half a second.

Her eyes tightened.

This was a probing frequency hop; the opposing technician had started looking for a breakthrough.

She immediately activated the preset program—a data packet disguised as a normal signal that would trigger tracking and release a new interference wave once connected.

The data packet was sent out.

Five seconds later, that frequency point lit up again, this time for a slightly longer duration.

This was the moment she had been waiting for.

The interference intensity suddenly increased, and the entire frequency band was completely submerged.

That red dot flickered once and couldn't light up again.

Suppression rate: 91.6%.

Her lips twitched; she didn't smile, but whispered, "Hold on for another thirty seconds, and that will be enough."

Her hand still hovered over the control keys, her body leaning forward, shoulders tensed.

Her protective mask was flipped up halfway, revealing her nose and mouth.

Her breathing was steady enough, but a bit faster than usual.

Her twin tails clung to her shoulders, the static still not dissipated.

She didn't move, and she didn't dare to move.

She didn't even dare to blink, afraid of missing some signal change.

Inside hope, it was very quiet, with only the soft sounds of machinery running.

The light from the main control console shone on her face, reflecting a hint of focus.

She was not a soldier; she didn't go to the front lines, didn't hold a gun, and didn't make decisions.

But she knew that the code and current in her hands right now were just as important as Su Ling's bullets.

Another twenty seconds passed.

The enemy signals dropped to a minimum, with only a few sporadic nodes struggling at low frequencies, unable to form effective communication.

The entire military operation in the valley came to a complete standstill.

Advance stopped, supplies were cut off, and reconnaissance lost contact.

The frontline troops were like a machine with its throat choked; they had strength but couldn't use it.

She finally leaned back and sat against the chair back.

But her hand still didn't come down, maintaining a posture ready to operate at any moment.

On the screen, the interference waveform was outputting steadily, and the suppression rate was maintained above 90%.

She said softly, "Signal suppression rate 87.3%, and still rising... hold on for another thirty seconds, and that will be enough."

She said this very softly, as if speaking to the system, and also as if speaking to herself.

She didn't look away, her eyes sweeping across the small window in the bottom left corner—that was a monitoring port she had added herself, specifically to watch for changes in enemy frequencies.

Everything was normal for now.

The wind blew through the gap, lifting a strand of her hair.

She didn't brush it away.

Her whole person seemed nailed to the seat, quiet, clear-headed, hand hovering, eyes fixed on the screen.

Inside the control cabin of hope, there was only the low hum of machinery and the sound of her own heartbeat.