424: Chapter 424 Order Written in Blood

At 06:58, on Zhang Cheng's holographic situational map, the military node icons of Singapore changed color one after another—shifting from red, representing hostility, to blue, representing control.

Changi, Seletar, Paya Lebar Airbase, Woodlands, Sembawang, Tuas—all six strategic points were secured within 41 minutes.

He pressed the button for the third step: "Judgment—execute."

Presidential Palace. Since the electronic jamming began at 6:00 AM, Lawrence Wong had been trapped in the emergency conference room on the second basement level of the Presidential Palace.

Sitting before him were the Minister of Defense Ng Eng Hen, the Minister for Law and Home Affairs K. Shanmugam, and the Minister for Foreign Affairs Vivian Balakrishnan.

On the table sat three satellite phones—all without signal.

He had someone bring in a military radio—after turning it on, only the recording of his own speech at the Bloomberg Forum played over the loudspeaker, playing over and over again, as if someone were mocking him.

At 06:59, the door to the conference room was pushed open. Not with a gun, but with a ceramic composite crowbar—pressure was applied to the pins where the hinges bit into the door frame, and the entire door collapsed with a crash.

Four Shadow Blade operatives walked in, their optical camouflage suits shifting from the color of the corridor's marble walls to that of the conference room's walnut paneling.

The team leader pushed his HUD goggles up onto his forehead and announced to Lawrence Wong in English: "Lawrence Wong—you are hereby issued an arrest warrant by the International Court of the Federation of Myanmar for endangering regional peace, inciting military confrontation, manipulating false information, and for the systemic suppression of ethnic equality in Singapore from the Japanese occupation era to the present. You have the right to remain silent, but everything you say will be recorded and used as evidence in court."

Lawrence Wong stood up, his knuckles white as he gripped his speech draft. He wanted to say something—perhaps "This is an invasion," perhaps "The United Nations will not recognize this," or perhaps "The U.S. military will not sit idly by."

But the team leader did not give him time to speak. He stepped aside, revealing a soldier who had followed him in—not a Shadow Blade operative, but Colonel Lin of the Woodlands garrison, wearing the Singapore Army uniform.

There was no shame or anxiety on Colonel Lin's face, only an expression of relief after being betrayed for thirty years.

He had served in the Singapore Armed Forces for 29 years. He remembered Lee Kuan Yew's words from 1987: "We decide who can stay in Singapore and who cannot"—that was the last thing his uncle heard before being locked in Changi Prison.

He stood before Lawrence Wong and said: "I, on behalf of the Woodlands garrison, am handing over the checkpoint to the Defense Forces of the Federation of Myanmar—this is not a surrender; it is because your legitimacy ceased to exist from the very first gunshot."

Lawrence Wong's mouth opened. Behind him, Shanmugam stood up to say something, but was held down by Foreign Minister Vivian Balakrishnan—because he saw the Shadow Blade operative behind Colonel Lin pull a portable projector from his tactical bag, switch it on, and project a video onto the white wall of the conference room.

The video was a photograph of Lawrence Wong's grandfather, Wong Ah Fook, standing in front of the Japanese Kempeitai headquarters on Syonan-to in 1943—Wong Ah Fook was wearing a Japanese interpreter's uniform, standing under the Japanese military flag, holding a military saber in his right hand and a Japanese flag in his left.

Superimposed below the photo were the file number of the source document, the preservation date, and the position field filled out by Wong Ah Fook himself—Interpreter Employee, affiliated with the Japanese Kempeitai Special Higher Police.

Lawrence Wong slumped back into his chair. He had never seen this photo before entering politics—his family had erased it from their family history. Now it appeared on the wall, in 8K resolution, unblurred and uncut.

The team leader pressed the communication button and reported to Naypyidaw: "Target secured. Guards offered no resistance. Requesting handover procedure."

Zhang Cheng heard this in the command center, picked up the cup of warm Pu-erh tea on the table, and said softly: "Let the whole world witness—this time, no one can whitewash this for them."

He pressed the button for the external broadcast system. On all terminals globally connected to the Shuguang Cloud live streaming platform, a pre-edited ten-minute documentary titled "Judgment Order" popped up simultaneously.

There was no narration, only scan after scan of original archive documents: Wong Ah Fook's Kempeitai personnel file—Lee Kuan Yew's 1987 "Operation Spectrum" detention order—a handwritten appeal to the Queen of England by detention victim Duncan McLaren—a photo of bloodstains in a Changi Prison interrogation room—a screenshot of Lawrence Wong's impassioned speech at the Bloomberg Forum yesterday—and the final line of text at the end of the film.

That sentence was written by Zhang Cheng in Burmese, then translated by AI into English, Japanese, Chinese, French, and Arabic: "Your family's 'international legal order'—whose blood was it written with?"

03:07 AM, radar control room of the Changi Naval Base in Singapore.

Sergeant Muhammad Ali had been staring at the static on the screen for twenty minutes.

He pressed the restart button for the third time—the screen lit up, then was swallowed by static even faster than before. It wasn't an equipment malfunction.

It was that all frequency bands were saturated by some kind of directed energy, as if someone had poured the entire electromagnetic spectrum into concentrated sulfuric acid.

He grabbed the wired internal phone hanging on the wall and dialed the Joint Air Defense Command Center at Paya Lebar Airbase.

What came through the receiver was not a dial tone, but a recording playing on a loop in standard English: "You are currently suffering from full-spectrum electromagnetic suppression. Non-lethal. Please maintain restraint."

He slammed the receiver back onto the base and turned to the duty officer behind him: "Sir, 'Vega'."

The duty officer did not answer. He was looking up out the window—the night sky in the direction of Changi Bay was suddenly torn open. It wasn't an explosion, not a flash of fire. It was the stars going out.

One by one, starting from the handle of the Big Dipper, as if someone were using an eraser to wipe across the sky from left to right.

The position coordinates displayed on the GPS terminal began to jump simultaneously—shifting from 103 degrees 59 minutes 15 seconds East to 104 degrees 3 minutes 42 seconds, an error of 470 meters, and still increasing.

"They have turned off our sky," the duty officer said.

Deep in the Andaman Sea, inside the electronic warfare cabin of the nuclear-powered aircraft carrier "Shuguang", rows of blue waveforms danced on the main screen of the "Vega-3" system.

The electromagnetic spectrum of the entire Singapore territory was compressed into a two-dimensional heat map—red represented radiation sources still working, blue represented suppressed frequency bands.

At this moment, the entire map had turned deep blue, with only three faint orange dots remaining near the Jurong West communication hub, like the last sparks on a stubbed-out cigarette butt.

The operator typed the final confirmation command for "Regional Awareness Fog - Full Coverage" on the keyboard.

Three seconds later, the island of Singapore disappeared from the time synchronization signals of the global satellite navigation system. It wasn't a physical disappearance—it was that the navigation satellites could no longer lock onto this airspace.

All base stations, power grid scheduling systems, and financial transaction servers that relied on GPS timing simultaneously fell into clock drift.

The instrument landing system at Changi Airport automatically switched to fail-safe mode, and all runway approach lights went out.

On civilian aviation radar screens, the flight markers of thirty-seven passenger planes approaching Singapore airspace simultaneously lost altitude data, and the regional control centers in Manila, Jakarta, and Kuala Lumpur issued emergency avoidance instructions within the same second.