468: Chapter 468 An Hua's Slap in the Face on Citywide Broadcast

Army Commander Jamaluddin did not respond.

He flipped the report to the last page and pressed his finger on those two lines of text.

There were only two lines on the last page: The US Military Gray Wolf Group B lost combat effectiveness in the Battle of the Perak River, with specific casualties pending confirmation.

The US side promised to send additional irregular personnel and provide satellite intelligence—but the timing was undetermined.

"Is Mr. Barrett's line still active?" Rashid's voice was laced with desperation.

Army Commander Jamaluddin shook his head.

Barrett's encrypted message had arrived once in the afternoon, and the content was very short: "Need to hold for another five days. International intervention is coming soon."

Then the signal was cut.

Vega did not intercept it—the signal had originally been sent from Washington to London, relayed to Berlin, and then forwarded to Kuala Lumpur; the line took four turns, and the latency reached as high as four thousand milliseconds.

But even with such a large delay, Barrett had only sent this one sentence.

Rashid placed his tea on the table, the bottom of the cup making a dull thud against the surface.

He stood up and walked to the window of the war room, looking at his own reflection in the glass—his eye sockets were sunken, his cheekbones were prominent, and loose skin hung from his jawline.

He had been in office for less than half a month, yet he had aged ten years.

Outside the window was the Kuala Lumpur city center.

It was not a brightly lit city center—the city's power had been intermittent since yesterday, and only a few buildings were sustained by diesel generators.

The searchlights of the Parliament Building were still on, their white light shining on the Malaysian flag atop the building, which was pulled taut by the night wind.

The searchlight housing was covered in dust, and when the beam of light passed through the dust, it scattered into a murky, foggy halo.

Rashid turned around and walked to the microphone.

The microphone was connected to the Parliament Building's public address system—the system's loudspeakers covered Merdeka Square and several surrounding blocks.

He pressed the red button.

"Fellow citizens of Malaysia—I am Acting Prime Minister Rashid Hassan."

His voice was pushed out of the Parliament Building by the loudspeakers, echoing across the empty Merdeka Square.

There was no one on the square—gatherings were prohibited during the curfew, but there were still people in the surrounding residential areas.

"Our enemies have surrounded this city.

They are trying to disintegrate our will with hunger and fear.

They bombed our radar stations, intercepted our weapon shipments, and used drones to hunt down our soldiers.

They think this will make us kneel—"

He paused—not to look at a script.

He couldn't remember the content of the speech he had someone draft five minutes ago.

"But I assure you—Kuala Lumpur will not fall.

Malaysia will not perish.

We will live and die with this city.

Every Malay, every Malaysian—take up arms and defend your homeland!"

The sound of him taking a deep breath came through the loudspeakers.

Then he shouted a slogan in Malay.

The slogan echoed repeatedly across the square, bouncing back to be replayed by the loudspeakers facing the front facade of the Parliament Building, shattering itself as it mixed into the echoes.

He turned off the broadcast and returned to his seat.

Army Commander Jamaluddin handed over a new draft order—the citywide curfew was extended to twenty-four hours, food rationing would be implemented for all residents, and anyone leaving their residence without military approval would be treated as a spy.

"Will you sign it?" Army Commander Jamaluddin asked.

Rashid pulled a pen from the inner pocket of his suit; the cap was gold.

He signed his name.

The cap fell to the floor, and he did not pick it up.

Naypyidaw Command Center.

Zhang Cheng stood in front of the holographic situation map, having finished listening to Rashid's broadcast.

There was no expression on his face as he used his fingertips to mark three locations on the situation map—Merdeka Square, the Parliament Building, and Pudu, the largest Chinese community in downtown Kuala Lumpur.

"Humanitarian corridor." Zhang Cheng tapped the location of Pudu, "Open it from here.

The route follows the Petaling main road northward, passes through the North Road defense zone, and exits the city in the direction of Kepong."

Li Lanzhi stood beside him, the humanitarian corridor contingency plan already open on her tablet.

The plan included evacuation routes, the setup of checkpoints along the way, registration procedures for evacuees, and the coordinates for temporary settlement points prepared for the evacuees.

The settlement point was set up in the federal-controlled zone of Petaling Jaya, where emergency tents had already been set up by the accompanying medical team and United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) coordinators.

"The broadcast script is ready." Li Lanzhi handed over the tablet.

Zhang Cheng glanced at it and did not change anything.

He pressed the microphone for the encrypted channel.

"Broadcast on all frequencies—all mobile phones, televisions, radios, and social media.

Add holographic projection—project it onto Merdeka Square and Pudu.

Cut the feed to Anwar."

In a safe house in Putrajaya, Anwar Ibrahim sat in front of the camera.

When he was rescued from house arrest by Shadow Blade, there were still bruises on his wrists from the handcuffs.

The lights in prison had been kept on, and he hadn't slept well for days, but facing the Lens, his tone was calmer than ever.

"Fellow citizens of Malaysia—I am Anwar Ibrahim, the legitimate Prime Minister of the Federation of Malaysia.

The man sitting in the underground bunker at Merdeka Square—Rashid Hassan—is not your Prime Minister.

He is a coup plotter, a war criminal who has dragged the country into war in the name of anti-Chinese sentiment."

He held a document up to the Lens.

The document was the Malay translation of the "Strait of Malacca Joint Management Initiative," with the parliamentary seal stamped on the cover.

"He burned this document, saying it was a betrayal of the Malays.

But he didn't tell you—this document would have brought Malaysia forty-five years of continuously increasing revenue from the Strait transit tax.

He also didn't tell you—at the same time he was burning this document, his Minister of Defense was receiving a five-million Hong Kong dollar kickback from the American arms dealer Claremont.

The transfer record for this money—is here."

Anwar held the tablet upright in front of the Lens; the screen showed a screenshot of the transfer record.

Recipient: Minister of Defense Ismail Sabri.

Payer: Claremont Defense Group.

Amount: five million Hong Kong dollars, the transfer date was three weeks before the coup.

The remarks column was blank, but in the follow-up email, it was marked with a brief "Good service."

"He asked you to take up arms to defend your homeland.

But he himself—has already prepared a Gulfstream for his escape."

The screen cut to the Kuala Lumpur airport tarmac.

The rear cabin door of the intercepted Gulfstream G650 was wide open, and US dollar bills from a crocodile skin handbag were scattered under the boarding stairs.

Former Deputy Minister of Finance Zainuddin was being taken onto an armored vehicle, the white plastic restraint ties on his wrists reflecting in the searchlights.

The voiceover was a recording from the airport control tower—a conversation between the tower duty officer and the Gulfstream pilot; the pilot claimed there were only "diplomatic personnel" on board, the duty officer asked him to declare the passenger list, and the pilot's original voice replied: "The passengers are classified level, it is not convenient to report."

Anwar put down the tablet and looked directly into the Lens.

"I am Anwar Ibrahim, Prime Minister of Malaysia.

I announce—the resumption of the exercise of constitutional authority.

I order all officers and soldiers of the Malaysian Armed Forces: immediately cease hostilities against the Federation of Myanmar and your own civilians!

Lay down your weapons!

Accept the humanitarian protection of the Federation of Myanmar!

Any act of continuing to execute the orders of the coup regime—will be considered an accomplice to war crimes!"

He held up the text of the "Federal Constitution."

The gold-stamped national emblem on the cover of the constitution flashed under the light.

Then the signal was pushed by Vega to every connected device across Malaysia, etched into all electronic screens, shop windows, and that old emergency broadcast loudspeaker installed on the fishing port breakwater.