3 a.m.
Mo Shangjun, who had woken up from a nap, lay on the ground, chewing gum to stay alert.
The night breeze was slightly cool, brushing past her cheeks, with her bangs floating, tickling and slightly obscuring her eyes.
Bzz bzz bzz, bzz bzz bzz.
Swarms of mosquitoes flew incessantly around her ears.
It's December, yet the island's mosquitoes have not gone extinct, buzzing around in groups, frequently replenishing their nutrients from Mo Shangjun.
However, no matter how they tormented her, Mo Shangjun remained as still as a statue, completely ignoring them.
Before midnight, two groups had leveraged the map to inspect the areas they needed to guard. Then, they separately analyzed the most likely breach points, and finally, team members each divided the zones and found the most suitable ambush spots themselves—the goal being to allow no Frogmen to breach the defense line, and how to achieve this was up to them.
This was different from the teams led by Mo Shangjun.
