Germany Berlin Wilhelm Street.
Fajin Han's general staff headquarters was in chaos; staff officers were sweating profusely, telegrams were flying everywhere, phones were ringing incessantly, and the air was filled with a stifling and anxious atmosphere—even Fajin Han, known for his composure, was no exception.
Fajin Han paced back and forth at his desk, asking Colonel Moritz, who was pinpointing locations on the map in a deep voice: "Are you sure there are no enemies around Tibet?"
Colonel Moritz hesitated for a moment: "The intel says so; we have an infantry battalion that successfully broke out of the encirclement around Tibet without encountering any resistance."
Fajin Han noted the implication in Colonel Moritz's words: "'The intel says so'?"
"I am not sure, General," Colonel Moritz replied, "It's hard for me to imagine Shire would leave such a large gap; I suspect..."
"You suspect this could be a trap set by Shire?" Fajin Han understood Colonel Moritz's meaning.
