Meanwhile, back in the unified army HQ, the war room was quiet.
Not silent—but quiet in that heavy, weighted way that meant everyone inside was thinking more than they were speaking.
Stacks of reports lay across the long table. Ink is still drying. Most of them had come in within the last hour, carried by long-range transmission talismans or physical scroll couriers.
Wei Shan sat at the head of the table, hands folded in front of her, eyes moving steadily across the open document in front of her.
The lights above the map table were dimmed, but a glowing projection of the Western Continent hovered in the center of the room, flickering faintly with updates.
Red zones.
Damage markers.
Relief camp pins.
None of it looked pretty.
Her adjutant, Ji Liren, stood quietly to the side. He didn't speak unless she asked him to. He'd learned quickly over the years that Wei Shan preferred silence when she read reports like these.
She didn't skim.
She never skimmed.
