364: Chapter 364 Morning Light Crushes Pavilion

In the command vehicle at the very front of the convoy, Major General Chatchai Chunhawan, commander of the 1st Mechanized Division of the Thai Army—a middle-aged officer in his early forties with cold, hard eyes—was examining an electronic map by the faint red cabin light.

His finger slid along the contour lines of the Dangrek Mountains, tapping a spot two kilometers west of Preah Vihear Temple.

"The assault battalion will cut in from here," he said to the chief of staff sitting opposite him. "The engineer platoon will clear a path in advance, and the deployment must be completed before 5:00 AM. Artillery preparation—at 5:45 AM. Before sunrise, I want to see our flag planted on that temple."

The chief of staff recorded quickly on his tablet. "What about the command post of the Cambodian 2nd Brigade?"

Chatchai circled a small square on the electronic map with his finger. "Here. Reconnaissance shows it's an underground bunker, reinforced with three layers of concrete. Have the 'Thor' Brigade provide two bunker-buster bombs."

"Received."

4:00 AM. On the south side of the Dangrek Mountains, at the defensive positions of Preah Vihear Temple.

A young sentry from the Cambodian 2nd Brigade, wrapped in a poncho, crouched behind sandbag fortifications, using a flashlight to look at a photo of his girlfriend.

The girl in the photo was wearing her Phnom Penh University uniform, smiling so broadly her teeth showed. The sentry rubbed the edge of the photo with his thumb, humming a Khmer love song under his breath.

The jungle to the north was silent. He looked up—the night was thick as ink, and he couldn't see anything. He lowered his head and continued looking at the photo.

Eight kilometers away, seventy-two 155mm self-propelled howitzers of the Thai artillery regiment had finished setting their firing parameters.

The gun commanders wore noise-canceling headphones, their left hands gripping the breech handles, their right hands hovering over the firing buttons.

On the ammunition racks, each gun was equipped with forty base-bleed extended-range shells—enough to turn every inch of the four square kilometers around Preah Vihear Temple three times over.

A countdown came through the headphones: Five, four, three, two, one.

The gun commanders pressed the buttons.

Seventy-two flashes of fire tore through the night simultaneously. The shells shot out of the barrels at an initial velocity of 900 meters per second, drawing dense arcs in the air as they flew toward the other side of the Dangrek Mountains.

At 5:45 AM, the first shell landed on the Cambodian positions at Preah Vihear Temple.

The sentry who had been looking at the photo never heard the sound of the shell landing. The shockwave arrived before any sound, lifting him and his sandbag bunker into mid-air. The photo curled into ash in the flames.

Immediately after, hundreds of shells rained down like a torrential storm. The entire summit of Preah Vihear Temple instantly turned into an erupting volcano—soil, rocks, broken pine trees, twisted steel, and parts of human bodies were churned into a rising, dark red plume of smoke in the torn air.

The Cambodian 2nd Brigade's command post had just sounded the alarm when two bunker-buster bombs pierced the three-layer concrete roof, exploding inside the underground bunker and burning the entire command staff into charred rolls within a fireball that had exhausted all oxygen.

The communication system was completely paralyzed by the strong electromagnetic pulse from "Vega". Company commanders shouted futilely into their radios, hearing only piercing noise.

Soldiers crawled out of collapsed bunkers, rifles in hand, looking blankly to the north. They could see nothing through their night-vision goggles—electronic interference had already fried the gain circuits of all optical equipment.

Then, the WZ-10 appeared.

Four attack helicopters rose along the ridgeline, like steel locusts crawling out of hell.

The roar of the rotors drowned out the explosions of the shells, and the rocket launchers under the fuselages spat tongues of fire, igniting the remnants of the Cambodian artillery positions one by one.

A WZ-10 hovered over Preah Vihear Temple, banking past the towers; the cannon shells left a string of bullet holes on the tower walls—but not a single one directly hit the main body of the temple. The shells struck the anti-aircraft positions and ammunition stockpiles surrounding the temple, maintaining a precision-to-the-meter restraint regarding the ancient temple itself.

This was not about protecting cultural relics. This was politics.

At 6:15 AM, the artillery fire ceased. Before the smoke had cleared, at the edge of the jungle on the north side of the Dangrek Mountains, Thai Army VT-4 tanks knocked over the last row of bamboo and drove up the hillside.

Infantry fighting vehicles followed closely behind, the automatic grenade launchers on their roofs aimed at the remaining Cambodian fortifications. Assault battalion soldiers, wearing gas masks and carrying QBZ-191 rifles, charged forward, stepping over still-burning craters.

In front of the main hall of Preah Vihear Temple, a Cambodian flag, torn by shrapnel, fluttered down from the flagpole. A Thai Army officer stepped forward, tore down the tattered flag, took a neatly folded Thai flag from his breast pocket, and tied it to the rope.

At 6:20 AM, the Thai tricolor flag was raised atop the Preah Vihear Temple tower. In the smoke, the flag snapped in the morning breeze.

In the strategic command center of the Presidential Palace in Naypyidaw, Zhang Cheng sat before the main console, watching the flag being raised through the high-definition camera of a "Hummingbird" drone. He set the pencil he had been twirling all night on the table.

"Did you record the footage?"

Old K nodded: "Multiple angles, including thermal imaging footage of the Cambodian positions before they were covered by artillery fire, as well as low-light night-vision Lens footage of Cambodian soldiers firing back."

"Edit it. Put the evidence of the Cambodian army 'firing first' at the beginning—find footage of that 122mm howitzer of theirs firing, even if it's just one shot. Then mark the timestamp clearly."

Zhang Cheng stood up and adjusted his cuffs. "Li Lanzhi, Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Call a global emergency press conference. Wording: The Cambodian military openly shelled targets within Thai territory, and the Thai Army was forced to conduct self-defense. The disputed area of Preah Vihear Temple has been recaptured by the Thai Army this morning."

Li Lanzhi was already recording rapidly on her tablet. "What about the chain of evidence?"

"Photos of the craters from Cambodian shells landing in Thailand—have the engineers dig a few over there and then take the photos. Seized encrypted Cambodian communications records—the communications contain orders to launch a preemptive strike against Thailand. Add an original copy of the Cambodian 2nd Brigade's operational orders—have Erica's people 'find' it in the wreckage of the routed command post."

Zhang Cheng's tone was as flat as if he were reading a menu. "These things will be enough to keep the United Nations discussing for three days. After three days, the matter of Preah Vihear Temple will be a fait accompli."

He walked to the window and pulled back the curtains. Morning light flooded in, gilding his entire figure into a golden silhouette.

"Tell Bangkok," he added as a final instruction, "Rama should deliver a televised address. The wording should be tough yet restrained, emphasizing that the Thai side has 'no intention of expanding the conflict,' but regarding the defense of territorial sovereignty, it is 'absolutely unambiguous.' By the way, have him cough twice—to make it seem like he is still physically weak and worrying about the country while ill."

Li Lanzhi acknowledged the order and left.

The command center went quiet again. Zhang Cheng stood at the window, looking at Naypyidaw in the morning light outside. The city was still asleep; only the lights of the Presidential Palace had remained on all night. In the distance, a helicopter was taking off from the rooftop, the roar of its rotors fading into the distance.

He picked up the pencil and tapped it lightly on the windowsill twice.

The powder keg ignited by the fuse of Preah Vihear Temple was just the first blast.

What would explode next was Ream. It was Chen Feng's rumor-mongering mouth. It was the lingering wishful thinking of Cambodia, which had gullibly trusted the Eagle and Japan.