214: Chapter 214 Vipers and Wildfire

He didn't waste time on empty platitudes, instead diving straight into explaining how to use rubble structures to set booby traps, how to craft directional explosive devices from the simplest materials, how to establish decentralized and hidden communication relay points to avoid interception, and how to utilize underground pipe networks and building wreckage for escapes and counter-ambushes when facing mopping-up operations.

His knowledge was professional and practical, far exceeding anything the local resistance had encountered before. More importantly, he brought more than just knowledge. Within a few days, over a dozen "compatriots" (Junior Death Soldiers) who were equally taciturn, agile, and filled with "gnashing hatred" for Gaza "fled" to join him in various ways. They brought limited but vital supplies: modified explosives, several encrypted and modified vintage radios, a batch of first-aid medicines, and camouflage materials.

Using a relatively intact abandoned repair shop with a complex basement structure as his base (one of the secret properties his "family" left behind, according to the background implantation), Sinwar began working methodically. He selected several quick-witted and determined local youths for intensive training; used the materials and knowledge brought by the Junior Death Soldiers to reinforce the stronghold and establish early warning mechanisms; and carefully wove a small-scale but reliable intelligence network through trusted old connections.

He was in no hurry to launch attacks. Like the most patient hunter, he first consolidated his lair, familiarized himself with the environment, and observed the patterns of his prey. However, everyone could feel that this suddenly appeared "Big Brother Sinwar" and the elite group of "brothers" around him brought a cold, orderly power that was different from the tragic despair of the past. A faint but more resilient sliver of hope began to sprout quietly amidst the ashes of despair.

Meanwhile, in the rugged mountainous region of southern Yemen near the Saudi Arabian border, tribal settlements were scattered across valleys and slopes. Life was hard, inter-tribal relations were complex, and there was a lack of trust in both the central government and external forces. This was also an area where various armed factions intertwined and infiltrated; chaos harbored opportunity.

Houssa's "return" caused quite a stir within his "tribe" (the background implanted by the system). His experience as an "overseas military officer" (rationalized as having received training in a certain Arab country), along with his tragic story of family members "martyred" in border conflicts (rich in detail, with specific times, locations, and "witnesses"), quickly won sympathy and a certain level of expectation. Not to mention, he did not return alone; he was accompanied by twenty to thirty equally fierce "tribal warriors" (Junior Death Soldiers) equipped with modified rifles and rocket launchers. They called Houssa "Commander," and their strict discipline was a stark contrast to the disorganized tribal militias.

Houssa's style was different from Sinwar's low-profile approach; it was more flamboyant and aggressive. He utilized Council of Elders to deliver impassioned speeches, denouncing the interference and border harassment by the Squid Nation and its allies against Yemen. By tying family vendettas to tribal interests and religious sentiments, he was highly provocative.

"Endurance does not earn respect; compromise only makes them push further!" Houssa stood by the campfire, waving his rifle as the firelight danced on his indignant face. "The Saudis' planes fly over our heads, the Squid Nation's spies crawl on our land, and they think we are lambs for the slaughter! It's time their claws hit a nail!"

The "warriors" he brought quickly sprang into action. They selected a valley with treacherous terrain that was easy to defend and hard to attack, establishing a simple training camp. Houssa personally taught ambush tactics, anti-armor team coordination (using RPG-7s and homemade explosive devices), mountain marching, and stealth techniques. The "tribal warriors" he brought served as instructors and the backbone, gradually instilling strict military discipline and tactical thinking into the recruited, hate-filled tribal youths.

Soon, Houssa's small armed force gained prominence for its efficient style and strong desire for revenge. They planned several small-scale cross-border ambushes targeting border militia outposts and patrols supported by Saudi Arabia. The operations were clean and decisive; they would inflict casualties and then quickly withdraw, making full use of the complex terrain to lose pursuers. Although the results weren't massive, they were precise and ruthless, distinct from the aimless harassment of previous tribal militias. This quickly caught the attention of surrounding tribes and the interest of Saudi intelligence personnel.

Houssa's name began to be associated with being "troublesome," "tactically innovative," and "deeply resentful." Some small armed groups, also dissatisfied with the status quo, began trying to contact him. The flames of revenge, fanned by Houssa acting as a "bellows," began to gather and expand in the mountain winds of southern Yemen.

Whether it was Sinwar, lurking like a venomous snake under the ruins of Gaza weaving a web of death, or Houssa, moving like a wildfire through the mountains of Yemen setting fires everywhere, they both strictly followed Zhang Cheng's instructions: take root, grow, and sting. They brought not just the combat power of two hundred Junior Death Soldiers, but an entire set of guerrilla warfare thinking and organizational methods that surpassed local standards.

Far away in Naypyidaw, Zhang Cheng could vaguely sense through the system's space-time-transcending link that the two "seeds" had landed, begun to absorb nutrients, and were extending their roots. He couldn't grasp the specific details in real-time; that would require spending extra points to enable finer monitoring, which wasn't necessary for now.

He stood before the floor-to-ceiling window of his office in the Presidential Palace, looking at the lights of the thousands of homes gradually lighting up in Naypyidaw. Peace and prosperity were the order he had built with his own hands. Meanwhile, in the distant Middle East, two undercurrents of uncertainty ignited by him had already begun to surge quietly. On the news, the Squid Nation's spokesperson was still claiming the "situation is under control," and the USA was still emphasizing "firm support." But true storms often begin as an unnoticed breeze.

When Sinwar opened his eyes, his nostrils were filled not with air, but with the scent of death.

Scorched earth, blood, and the pungent sweet smell left by some chemical incendiary mixed into the unique atmosphere of this land. He lay amidst the rubble of a half-collapsed residence, covered in thick dust and broken bricks. Background memories implanted by the system rushed in like a tide—this was the eastern district of Gaza City, the Hara Family settlement, which had been leveled five days ago by the Defense Forces of the Squid Nation using F-1 precision-guided bombs.

His "family"—seventy-three people in the memories implanted by the system—were all buried under this rubble.

Sinwar didn't get up immediately. Instead, he maintained a posture of unconsciousness, his ear pressed against the cold ground. The roar of a diesel engine came from the distance; it was a "namell" heavy armored personnel carrier of the Squid Nation patrolling the ruins. Closer by, there was the sound of boots stepping over gravel, accompanied by soldiers talking in Hebrew, their tone relaxed, as if discussing which bar to visit after their shift.

"...Those rats should be mostly cleared out by now," a young voice said.

"Don't be careless. The captain said we have to sweep at least three times. Yesterday, B Company caught one under the hospital ruins, covered in explosives," another voice said more steadily.

The footsteps gradually faded away.