Great Power Reclamation

The countdown to the fifth anniversary of the founding of the East African nation is six hours long.

Even before the morning mist had dissipated in Kilimanjaro, a massive security cordon had already been set up within a 50-kilometer radius of "Unity Square".

Yang San stood in front of the giant holographic sand table in the fortress command center. On the sand table, the blue dots representing security units were as dense as a galaxy, and the twelve air control corridors were like invisible hands, guarding all possible airspace entrances to the city.

"All sniper teams in position." The operations chief's voice came through the communications channel clearly and steadily. "Airborne early warning system at full power, thermal imaging scanning radius extended to eighty kilometers. General, so far, no anomalies have been detected."

Yang San did not respond. He stared at a few faint, almost imperceptible signal fluctuations at the edge of the sand table—intermittent electromagnetic interference coming from the direction of Lake Victoria, officially recorded as "meteorological monitoring equipment malfunction," but his intuition was pounding.

"Ye Fei," he said, connecting to the encrypted channel, "what have you found?"

In the underground intelligence analysis room, six screens were displayed in front of Ye Fei. The three on the left showed real-time intelligence summaries from several major powers;
The three panels on the right are for monitoring the data flow of all communication base stations in East Africa—this is the highest level of access that Yang San granted him three days ago.

“Three things,” Ye Fei said quickly. “First, at 2 a.m., the internal communications of the Russian Security Service’s Africa Division surged by 300%, with keywords including ‘East Africa,’ ‘celebration,’ and ‘energy agreement.’”

The currently analyzed footage suggests they are concerned about whether my country's new energy cooperation with the EU will affect their uranium mining rights in East Africa.

“Second,” he switched screens, “a encrypted briefing came from Beijing. Intelligence coordinated by my second brother, Ye Mao, indicates that a special investigation team from the EU’s Competition Directorate-General entered Kenya three days ago on ‘tourist visas’ and is currently missing.”

The head of this group had previously led three investigations into the "monopolistic practices of Chinese capital in Africa."

“Third,” Ye Fei’s voice deepened, “and most importantly—I detected seventeen encrypted terminals using the same rare frequency-hopping protocol in the communications data of the Lake Victoria region. I saw this protocol five years ago when I was tracking terrorist financing chains at the border.”

The command center fell silent. The staff officers behind Yang San exchanged glances, some already placing their hands on their weapons.

"Can you locate it?" Yang San's voice remained steady.

“We’re trying, but the enemy’s counter-surveillance capabilities are very strong.” Ye Fei’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “However, I’ve discovered a pattern—these terminals are only active at two times a day: 5 a.m. local time and 7 p.m. local time. That coincides with the changing of the guard and the handover of the command.

Yang San's pupils contracted slightly. He turned and ordered the chief of staff: "Retrieve the duty records for the past week from the Lake Victoria Naval Base. Focus on the details of the shift changes at 5 a.m. and 7 p.m.

Five minutes later, a report was projected onto the holographic sand table. Anomalies in the data were highlighted in red.

Over the past seven days, there have been three instances of "non-standard delays" in shift change times—the longest being 22 minutes, which were recorded as "equipment maintenance."

"Equipment maintenance takes twenty-two minutes?" Yang San sneered. "And precisely during the time when the encrypted terminal is most active?"

He walked to the command console and pressed three red buttons. This was the highest level of combat alert, meaning all troops had to be on high alert within thirty seconds.

"Pass on my orders," Yang San's voice was like the clash of steel. "First, the Victoria Lake Naval Base is to be placed under complete lockdown immediately; no personnel are permitted to enter or leave. Second, activate the 'Network Cleanup' contingency plan—switch all military communication base stations nationwide to backup encrypted channels and cut off the military interfaces of all civilian signal towers. Third…"

He paused for a second, his gaze sharp as a knife: "Order the entire 'Steel Seventh Company' to change into civilian clothes and infiltrate the twelve major towns and villages along the shores of Lake Victoria within three hours. The mission has only one order: find the seventeen encrypted terminals and the people who use them."

"General!" the chief of staff couldn't help but exclaim, "The Seventh Steel Company is a special operations unit; they haven't received reconnaissance training..."

“They don’t need reconnaissance training,” Yang San interrupted him. “They come from those villages and towns; they know every path, every ferry crossing, every suspicious face. Let them find it their own way.”

The order was given. On the large screen in the command center, the three hundred dots representing the Seventh Steel Company began to move, like water droplets seeping into sand, quickly disappearing into the complex terrain data.

Yang San then reconnected with Ye Fei: "Fourth brother, I need you to do something."

"explain."

"Use your connections in the Russian military—not through formal channels, but through private relationships—to find out one thing: whether any Russian-made weapons, especially man-portable air defense systems and radio jamming equipment, have recently entered East Africa through the black market."

"Understood. I'll give you an answer within two hours."

The communication ended. Yang San stood alone in front of the holographic sand table, watching the slowly moving dots of light. He recalled five years ago, on a similar morning, he stood in the middle of the confrontation line between the armies of five countries, with the aiming lasers of five armed helicopters overhead.

What was he thinking at that time?
It's not death. It's regret—regret that I might not live to see the day this land is unified.

Today, that day has come. And he will not allow anyone to ruin it.
-
At the same time, on the viewing platform of Unity Square.

Ye Rou and Ye Mei were making final preparations. They were wearing formal attire that combined traditional East African clothing with modern military uniforms.

The deep blue robe was embroidered with the golden outline of Mount Kilimanjaro, and the epaulettes featured five encircling stars representing five former nations. Most notably, the sword at his waist had its scabbard engraved with the national flowers of two countries (now one): the orchid of Kenya and the lilac of Tanzania.

"Sister, Xuguang has a slight fever," Ye Mei said softly. Chenxing in her arms was sleeping soundly, but Xuguang's little face was flushed with an abnormal redness.

The medical team immediately stepped forward to examine her. "Low-grade fever, 38.2 degrees Celsius, likely a stress reaction caused by environmental changes," the chief physician quickly reported. "We recommend that the princess stay indoors to rest and avoid attending outdoor ceremonies."

Ye Rou looked down at her daughter, a flicker of struggle in her eyes. This was the first fifth birthday celebration for the East African nation, and also the 100-day celebration for her two children. As queen, she should be holding her children and showing the nation's future to her people; as a mother, she just wanted her children to sleep comfortably.

“Let Ashes remain in the fortress’s medical ward,” she finally decided. “Double the guards. Morningstar… stay as well.”

Ye Mei wanted to say something, but seeing her sister's eyes, she understood—if there was any real danger, the child had to be the safest.

Prime Minister Yang Da hurried over, his face grave: "Your Majesty, I have just received an urgent report from General Yang San. Suspicious communication activity has been detected in the Lake Victoria area, and he believes there may be a security threat. He recommends... recommends reducing the scale of the celebrations and shortening the duration of outdoor activities."

Ye Rou and Ye Mei exchanged a glance.

"Reduce the scale?" Ye Mei repeated, her voice clear and firm in the morning breeze:
“Three hundred million citizens are watching this celebration live, and diplomats and journalists from all over the world are sitting in the stands. If we back down because of a ‘potential’ threat, then tomorrow, all investors will doubt the stability of this country, and all citizens will doubt the courage of their Queen.”

Ye Rou nodded. She walked to the edge of the viewing platform and looked down at the crowd that had begun to gather below—people were dressed in festive attire, waving national flags, children riding on their fathers' shoulders, elderly people sitting in wheelchairs, and everyone's face was filled with anticipation.

“Tell General Yang San.” She turned around, her voice calm yet firm, “The celebration will proceed as planned. His mission is to eliminate the threat, and our mission is to show the world an East Africa that is not afraid of any threat.”

Calond took a deep breath, bowed, and withdrew.

Ye Mei walked to her sister's side, and the two stood side by side. The morning light had already crossed the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro, cascading like a golden waterfall onto the square, illuminating the faces of 300,000 people.

"Do you remember what we said in Arusha five years ago?" Ye Mei asked softly.

“I remember,” Ye Rou smiled. “We said we wanted to build a country where children dare to run in the square.”

“So today,” Ye Mei held her sister’s hand, “we’ll stand here and let everyone see—we’ve kept this promise.”
-
Kigoma, on the western shore of Lake Victoria.

Leison, the Maasai company commander of the Seventh Steel Company, was squatting behind a fish market stall. He had changed into tattered fisherman's clothes, his face smeared with fishy smell and dust, and his eyes, through the gaps in his sunglasses, were fixed on a two-story cement building fifty meters away.

The building bore a sign that read "Fisheries Cooperative," but Lesson remembered clearly that five years ago it was a border post of the Tanzanian border guards. After the merger, the post was abolished, and the building should theoretically have been handed over to the local government, but records show that the procedures were "delayed for some reason."

Even more suspiciously, three people entered the building in the past twenty minutes. The first person was carrying a fish bucket, but the bottom of the bucket was unusually heavy;

The second person was wearing an electrician's uniform, and there were signs of metal friction on the handle of his toolbox; the third person... the third person made Lesson's muscles tense instantly.

He was a white male, around forty years old, who walked with his left shoulder slightly drooping—a muscle memory formed from long-term use of sniper rifles.

Lesson spoke into the microphone under his collar, reporting in a low voice using an ancient Maasai counting system: "Target building, three o'clock. Three people confirmed inside, the last one is a professional marksman. Requesting instructions."

Yang San's voice came through the channel, direct and brief: "Wait."

"What are you waiting for, General?"

"Wait for them to assemble." Yang San's voice echoed in the underground command center. "The 12 groups of the Steel Seventh Company have already identified 11 suspicious locations. I'm going to wait until all the rats have gone into their holes."

Lesson licked his chapped lips. He recalled what Yang San had said to them on the training field three months ago:
"A true hunter is not someone who shoots the moment he sees his prey. He is someone who can hold back, wait until all the prey is exposed, and then wipe them all out in one fell swoop."

He continued to wait.

Time ticked by. The hustle and bustle of the fish market masked the tension; fishermen hawked their wares, women haggled, and children chased each other between stalls. It was all so ordinary it was unsettling. 8:17 a.m. The fourth person entered the building—this time a Black woman carrying a guitar case. But Lysson noticed thick calluses on the web of her right hand, the result of years of handling a gun.

8:23. The fifth, the sixth... In just six minutes, seven more people entered. The small building swallowed them up like a black hole, but no one came out.

“General,” Lysson said in an even lower voice, “ten people have entered the target building. Repeat, ten people.”

In the command center, Yang San looked at the eleven red dots lit up on the sand table—eleven groups from the Steel Seventh Company, all reporting the discovery of suspicious personnel gathering. Next to each red dot was a number of people: a minimum of six and a maximum of fifteen.

Ye Fei's analysis came at that moment: "Third Brother, I've received a reply. Over the past three months, twenty-three sets of Russian-made 'Igla-S' man-portable air defense systems have gone missing on the black market. Seven of them ended up in East Africa. In addition, there are forty 'Topol-M' radio jamming devices..."

Yang San didn't listen to the end. He already understood.

This was not a small-scale terrorist attack. It was an organized, well-equipped military operation with a clear objective. The objective was not to disrupt the celebration, but—to decapitate.

His gaze fell on the Unity Square on the sand table, and on the two golden dots that represented the Queen.

"Attention all teams." His voice boomed through the encrypted channel to the three hundred soldiers. "Operation codename: 'Net Cleansing'."

Mission Objective: Eliminate all threats before the enemy launches an attack. Lethal force permitted. Repeat, lethal force permitted.

He paused for a second, then added the last sentence: "For those children who dare to run in the square."
-
Kigoma, 8:31 a.m.

Leison heard faint sounds coming from the building—the sound of metal clashing, the click of magazines being loaded into guns.

He took a deep breath, pulled the disassembled assault rifle from the bottom of the fish basket, and reassembled it within ten seconds. He removed his sunglasses, revealing the eyes of a Maasai warrior on the hunt.

The countdown came through the earpiece: "Three, two, one—Action!"

They didn't break down the door. Soldiers from the Seventh Steel Company appeared simultaneously from six directions—some rappelled down from the roofs of adjacent buildings, some disguised themselves as water deliverymen pushing carts to break open side doors, and some tumbled out from under the fish market stalls.

Lesson chose the front: he stood up, pulled the pin on the grenade, held it in his hand for two seconds, and then smashed it against the second-floor window.

Delayed detonation.

The moment the grenade exploded indoors, Lesson had already smashed open the door. Through the smoke, he saw at least eight figures assembling weapons—

Three sets of man-portable air defense missiles were spread out on the table, radio jamming equipment was piled up in the corner, and a satellite map of Unity Square was hanging on the wall, with clear firing parameters drawn in red.

"Put down your weapons!" Lesson roared in Swahili.

He was met with a burst of bullets. He rolled to the side, bullets striking the concrete wall and sending sparks flying. As he rose, his rifle spat fire, and two attackers fell.

The battle erupted simultaneously at eleven locations. The soldiers of the Steel Seventh Company gave their opponents no chance—they were hunters, and what hunters excel at is biting off their prey's throat before it pulls the trigger.
-
Unity Square, 8:45 a.m.

The celebration officially began. Cannons roared, flags were raised, and 300,000 people sang in unison. Their voices, like ocean waves, crashed against the foothills of Mount Kilimanjaro.

Ye Rou and Ye Mei stood in the center of the viewing platform, with the old flags of the five countries before their merger behind them and the new, deep blue flag of the East African nation in front of them. This ceremony symbolized the handover between history and the future.

Yang San stared at the screen in the command center. Eleven red dots were going out one by one—each dot representing the elimination of a threat. At 8:50, the last red dot went out.

"Operation Clean Net is complete." Leison's voice came through, slightly out of breath. "All eleven strongholds have been cleared, thirty-seven people killed, twelve captured. Seven man-portable air defense systems, nine radio jamming devices, and... a detailed attack schedule were seized."

"Get to the point," Yang San said.

"They planned to act at exactly nine o'clock, when the Queen began her speech. Phase one: disrupt all city communications. Phase two: attack the reviewing stand with anti-aircraft missiles—not to hit it directly, but to create panic and chaos. Phase three: gunmen mixed in with the crowd would approach in the chaos and carry out the assassination."

Yang San glanced at the time: 8:53.

"The prisoners' confessions?"

"The investigation is ongoing. Preliminary assessments suggest these individuals are from remnants of five former states, and they received funding and equipment support from external forces. Which external force specifically..."

“OM Investigation Team.” Ye Fei’s voice suddenly interrupted. He pulled up a photo. “Third Brother, I just compared the facial recognition data of a white man among the prisoners. He is a member of the OM Competition Command Special Investigation Team. He entered the country three weeks ago on a ‘tourist visa.’ His real identity is a former foreign legionary officer from the Williamsburg Foreign Army, specializing in urban sniping.”

The command center was deathly silent.

Yang San slowly stood up. He looked at the screen showing Ye Rou and Ye Mei beginning their speeches, at the faces of 300,000 people listening quietly, and at this country that had just survived the gunfire.

"Pack up and encrypt all the evidence—weapon serial numbers, communication records, prisoner confessions, facial recognition data."

His voice was as cold as the snow on Kilimanjaro, “One copy to the Royal Palace, one copy to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and one copy… to Ye Fengzai’s brother group.”

"General, should we distribute it to private enterprises?" the chief of staff asked, puzzled.

“Because capital can sometimes be sharper than diplomatic notes.” Yang San turned and looked out at the square. “Tell my brother to spread the word on Wall Street: certain forces are trying to destabilize East Africa and affect the investment environment. Then see how many points the EU stock market drops tomorrow.”

He paused, then added, "Also, anonymously send all the videos from today's internet cleanup operation—especially the footage of the EU mercenaries being captured—to major international media outlets. I've already thought of the title: 'The bullets of neo-colonialism are aimed at the dream of unity in Africa.'"

The command was executed swiftly.

Yang San walked alone to the terrace of the command center. From there, he could see the grand scene in the square, hear the cheers of the people, and feel the vibrant heartbeat of this young nation.

The encrypted terminal vibrated. It was a message from Ye Feng, containing only one sentence: "Message received. Tomorrow, certain people in Europe will pay the price."

Then Ye Mao said: "The Ministry of Foreign Affairs will summon the EU ambassador to East Africa. At the same time, China will submit a draft resolution to the UN Security Council on 'opposing external interference in the internal affairs of African countries'."

Marshal Ye: "The Ukrainian side has expressed its willingness to provide military experts to assist in investigating the origin of the weapons. This is to repay the favor my father did for me back then."

Ye Fei's final report: "The Russian mercenaries among the prisoners confessed that their orders were to 'create chaos, but not cause mass casualties'—which shows that they were also hesitant, wanting to exert pressure but not wanting to completely break off relations."

After reading all the messages, Yang San turned off the terminal.

He looked towards the square; his speech was nearing its end. Ye Rou's voice, amplified through the loudspeaker, resonated throughout the city:
"...Five years ago, we chose to stand together. Today, we have proven that choice was right. The future of East Africa does not lie in the charity or threats of any external power, but in the clasped hands of our 300 million compatriots!"

Three hundred thousand people erupted in a thunderous cheer.

As Yang San watched all this, he slowly raised his right hand and gave a standard military salute towards the square.

This gesture is a tribute to the courage of the two queens.

A tribute to the loyalty of the three hundred soldiers of the Seventh Steel Company.

Dedicated to the 300,000 people who dare to believe.

This is also a tribute to the country that has finally learned to use guns to protect its dreams, instead of using them to create division.

The morning light completely bathed the earth. The snow on the summit of Kilimanjaro shimmered like diamonds in the sunlight.

In the shadows of the mountains, the stench of blood lingered in the recently cleared outposts. This was the price of rebirth—only a crown forged in blood and iron could stand firm against the storms of history.

Yang San knew that today's victory was just the beginning. Undercurrents were still surging, and the enemy had not given up.

But he and his army were ready.

For those children who dare to run in the square today.

For that land that will never have borders again. (End of Chapter)