324: Chapter 324 Nablus Blood Dawn

...

Naypyidaw, the secret chamber of the Presidential Palace.

Zhang Cheng listened to the report regarding external reactions.

"The reaction from Eagle Sauce was within expectations: diplomatic pressure, escalating economic sanctions, and increased maneuvers in the South China Sea and towards the Philippines," Li Lanzhi summarized. "They and the remnants of Council of Elders are attempting to incite negative public opinion within Thailand, primarily focusing on the burden of reparations and 'loss of sovereignty.' However, based on current intelligence, they seem to attribute the change in the Royal Family's attitude mainly to panic and realistic pressure following the defeat, without suspecting any deeper layers."

"That's for the best," Zhang Cheng commented indifferently. "Let them keep spinning in their traditional analytical frameworks. Reparations can be paid in installments, or even partially converted into resource or project equity deductions. You handle the specific operations; we need to make them feel the pain without actually provoking a popular uprising. Regarding public opinion, let our media partners in Thailand and that 'Prince Advisor' be more active, promoting the job opportunities, technological upgrades, and long-term benefits brought by the cooperation projects. If necessary, let the 'King' give another speech encouraging development and looking toward the future. The common people want bread and hope; hollow slogans of sovereignty have limited appeal in the face of tangible interests."

"Yes. Additionally, feedback from Erikas Team and the 'Weasel' channel indicates that the intelligence networks of Eagle Sauce and Council of Elders in Thailand are in a period of repair and chaos, making it difficult for them to pose a substantial threat in the short term," Old K reported.

Zhang Cheng nodded slightly and walked to the world map. His gaze swept over Myanmar, which was already under blue physical control, passed over Thailand, which was being entwined by thin blue lines, and then turned toward the broader surrounding regions.

"Thailand is just the first step, a demonstration," Zhang Cheng's voice carried the calmness and ambition of a pioneer. "We are showing the entire region, and even the world, a new model of 'integration.' It's not the armed conquest and direct rule of the colonial era, nor the color revolutions and political subversion of the post-Cold War era. Instead, it's about laying the foundation for victory through absolute technological and military superiority, then achieving de facto control and interest transfers through precise political maneuvers and economic binding. The key lies in letting the key nodes within the integrated party make choices that align with our will of their own accord."

"Next, Cambodia and Laos to the east, and even the Malay Peninsula further south, will all look at Thailand and reconsider how they deal with the Federation of Myanmar. The energy corridor between the Dragon Kingdom and us will become more stable, and their influence in Southeast Asia will receive flanking support due to our existence, but at the same time, they will become more wary and... dependent on us."

"As for Eagle Sauce," Zhang Cheng's gaze sharpened, "they won't accept defeat gracefully. But their greatest weakness is their habit of measuring opponents using old-era logic and visible means. The loss in Southeast Asia will force them to shift more strategic resources to other directions, such as putting more pressure on the Dragon Kingdom, or increasing pressure on Houssa and Sinwar in Yemen and the Gaza Strip. Tell Houssa and Sinwar that the contest in the Red Sea and Gaza may escalate, and they should prepare for more intense conflicts. Our victory here will translate into the most direct support for them, and it's also a continuous bloodletting of the entire old hegemony system."

Li Lanzhi and Old K solemnly accepted the orders. They knew the President's gaze had already transcended the Chao Phraya River, looking toward the more turbulent world oceans and the more complex Middle Eastern deserts. The empire's borders had expanded once again in silence, and the opponent's confusion and misjudgment were the best mist and cover on this path of expansion.

The fall of Thailand was like a massive boulder thrown into the pond of geopolitics, the ripples it created quickly spreading globally. A nascent empire forged by Death Soldiers, black technology, and cold-blooded political maneuvering was forcefully rewriting the world's rules and map in an unprecedented way that the old hegemons could not fully comprehend.

On the third day after the ceasefire agreement took effect, dawn arrived in a small village called Nablus on the West Bank.

The village wasn't large, with a population of a few hundred, mostly the elderly, women, and children. The young men were either in Israeli prisons or already buried in the ruins of Gaza. Olive trees at the village entrance swayed slightly in the morning breeze, and a few scrawny sheep foraged for grass roots on the stony ground. If not for the occasional roar of bulldozers in the distance—expanding a Jewish settlement—this morning would have been peaceful.

At 6:17 AM, dust rose from the dirt road at the village entrance.

Three "Humvee" armored vehicles bumped their way into the village, their bodies covered in mud, with machine guns on the roofs pointing lazily at the houses on both sides. The doors opened, and eleven soldiers jumped out.

They wore the uniforms of the Squid Nation Defense Forces, but their collars were open, sleeves rolled up haphazardly to their elbows, some with cigarettes in their mouths and others holding half-empty whiskey bottles. Sharp-eyed villagers took one look from their windows and their expressions changed—these were not regular garrison troops, but routed soldiers who had just retreated from the front lines.

The look in their eyes was wrong.

The leader was a bearded sergeant with crooked epaulettes and dark brown bloodstains on his body armor. He stood in the open space in the center of the village, looked around, and suddenly let out a short, cold laugh.

"Look at these rat holes," he said in Hebrew, his voice not loud, but enough to make the villagers hiding behind doors feel a chill down their spines. "How many brothers did those bastards in Gaza make us lose?"

No one answered. The soldiers fanned out, their muzzles sweeping casually over doors and windows.

A white-haired old man walked tremulously out of a stone house, hands raised high, saying in broken Hebrew: "We... are just farmers. Ceasefire... sir..."

The sergeant tilted his head, looking at him.

"Ceasefire?" He repeated the word as if chewing on a joke. "The day before yesterday, a rocket killed my best friend. His name was Jonah, twenty-two years old. And now you tell me 'ceasefire'?"

He raised his pistol.

The gunshot rang out. A blood flower bloomed on the old man's chest; he looked down as if he didn't understand what had happened, then slowly knelt and fell sideways onto the dirt road. Dust rose and settled again, clinging to his wide-open eyes.

The village fell into a moment of deathly silence.

Then, screams tore through the morning.

The soldiers acted as if they had received some kind of tacit permission, or perhaps a fanatical desire for venting had finally found an outlet. They kicked open doors, smashed windows, and dragged women out from their hiding places in closets. One soldier used a rifle butt to smash a statue of the Virgin Mary in a living room, while another threw a Molotov cocktail into a woodshed. Flames leaped up, and black smoke rolled over the olive grove.

Desperate cries, pleas for mercy, unintelligible curses, and the coarse laughter of the soldiers mixed together.

A girl of seventeen or eighteen was dragged to a corner. Her mother lunged forward but was struck in the forehead with a rifle butt, blood blurring her eyes. The girl screamed, biting the hand that gripped her hair. The soldier cursed, slapped her down with a backhand, and then began to unbuckle his belt.

The sergeant leaned against the hood of the Humvee and lit another cigarette. He watched his men drag the girl away, watched the burning houses, and watched the old man's curled corpse on the ground, his face devoid of any expression. He just smoked.