279: Side Story ● The Desperate Situation of the Three Kingdoms 6

Ms. Swaraj shook her head with a grim expression.

"Your Excellency, we sent out urgent requests for aid to the Security Council and the major powers at the very first opportunity."

"The USA State Department spokesperson merely 'expressed deep concern,' called for 'both sides to exercise restraint and cease fire immediately,' and emphasized 'resolving the dispute through dialogue,' but there were no promises of any substantive aid."

"They seem to be preoccupied with the Anti-Judea Coalition in the Persian Gulf and domestic election affairs."

"The EU's response was much the same, consisting only of a few lukewarm condemnations."

"Russia... they expressed 'grave concern,' but emphasized that this is a bilateral issue and called for a peaceful resolution."

"Bastards! They are all a bunch of fair-weather friends!"

Patel cursed in despair.

Only now did he clearly realize that when a real crisis arrives, those "strategic partners" who usually call each other brothers and make numerous promises run faster than anyone else.

India, at this moment, is facing alone the thunderous strike launched by a neighbor it has long looked down upon.

"Then... what should we do?"

The Minister of Interior asked in a trembling voice; he was already considering an escape route for his family.

Patel breathed heavily, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.

In the end, a trace of ruthlessness and despair intertwined. He raised his head abruptly.

"Immediately mobilize all garrison troops in New Delhi, including a portion of the Presidential Guard, and urgently reinforce Chandigarh! We must stop them there! At the same time..."

He lowered his voice, carrying a kind of desperate madness.

"Notify the Strategic Command... have our 'Agni' missile units... enter the highest level of alert status..."

This sentence made all the officials and generals present gasp.

Use nuclear weapons?

That would be an abyss of total destruction!

"Prime Minister! Please calm down!"

General Varma hurriedly tried to dissuade him.

"The situation hasn't reached that point yet! We..."

"Hasn't reached that point?!"

Patel roared hysterically.

"Do we have to wait until the Pakistanis park their tanks in front of the Red Fort for it to be considered that point?! Do as I say! That is an order!"

The office fell into a dead silence, leaving only Patel's heavy breathing and the faint, ignorant hustle and bustle of New Delhi, this ancient city of a thousand years, drifting in from outside the window.

A deeper, more lethal crisis was quietly gestating within this desperate decision.

And hundreds of kilometers away, Brigadier General Hassan's steel torrent was racing non-stop toward Chandigarh, toward the fuse that could ignite the final catastrophe.

Gurgaon, this satellite city of New Delhi, was once the IT industrial center and bustling modern metropolis that India was proud of.

Today, however, it had become the forward command hub for Pakistan's steel torrent and the final springboard for its military advance.

Standing on the high ground of a captured Indian Army outpost, Major General Arif held high-magnification binoculars and gazed into the distance toward the east.

At the edge of his field of vision, the vast and blurry outline of New Delhi trembled slightly in the rising heat waves and the faint plumes of smoke in the distance.

That capital with thousands of years of history, carrying the glory and dreams of India.

At this moment, under the military might of the Pakistani war machine, it seemed to be truly trembling.

The air was filled with a complex scent—a mixture of dust, diesel, gunpowder, and an indescribable smell belonging to the outskirts of a big city.

Behind him were countless "Fierce Rhino" tanks and "Fierce Tiger" armored vehicles covered by camouflage netting, as well as high-spirited Pakistani soldiers coming and going.

The noise of radios, the roar of engines, and the sporadic explosions heard occasionally in the distance—possibly the death throes of the remnants of the Indian Air Force—formed a unique symphony of the battlefield.

"Major General," an operations staff officer holding the latest electronic situational map walked quickly to his side.

His voice carried irrepressible excitement.

"Our army has completed the tactical encirclement of the New Delhi urban area."

"The Rohini district in the north and the Noida district in the east are already controlled by our 1st and 3rd Armored Divisions."

"To the south is the natural barrier of the Yamuna River, a tributary of the Ganges; our artillery and anti-tank units have blocked all major bridges and crossings."

"To the west, which is the direction of Gurgaon where we are located, the main offensive force is composed of our main force and the 5th Mechanized Infantry Division, and the combat patrol radius of our 'Sky Dragon' drones has already covered the western suburbs of New Delhi and all major access routes."

"New Delhi has become an isolated city."

Major General Arif put down the binoculars; there was no arrogance on his face, only the calmness of a victor and a sense of historical gravity.

He knew well that having troops at the city gates and capturing the city were two different things, especially since urban warfare in a national capital is extremely cruel and unpredictable.

"What is the defensive strength and morale like inside the city?"

Major General Arif asked in a deep voice.

"According to drone reconnaissance and feedback from intelligence personnel, the New Delhi garrison nominally has two divisions, but one of them was crippled in the previous eastern campaign and has been replenished with a large number of new recruits."

"The equipment consists mainly of old T-72s and infantry small arms, lacking heavy artillery and effective anti-armor capabilities."

"Panic is already starting to emerge within the city; some wealthy districts and foreign embassy personnel are attempting to evacuate, and there is severe panic buying of supplies."

"But the Indian government is still conducting propaganda, attempting to organize militia resistance."

Major General Arif nodded.

He walked to the makeshift command table, looked at the detailed map of New Delhi, and pondered for a moment.

A direct assault on New Delhi would certainly have the potential to destroy India's command center in one fell swoop.

But it would inevitably come at a heavy cost in casualties, and would earn them the infamy of being an "aggressor" in the international community, possibly even triggering unpredictable consequences.

"It is time to apply the final pressure on them."

Major General Arif raised his head and ordered the communications officer beside him.

"Draft an ultimatum and send it to Indian Prime Minister Patel and his government simultaneously via encrypted diplomatic channels and public broadcast frequencies."