Inside the command center of Shield Bastion, the T'au fortress in the highlands, purplish-red blips representing the Tyranids crept toward their final stronghold from every direction on the holographic tactical map, like a noose slowly tightening.
Suisxing, the Fire Caste commander, had not slept for three days and nights. Dried blood and dust covered his dark red battlesuit, and exhaustion lined his rock-hard face, yet an unyielding fire still burned in his eyes. He stared fixedly at the map, his mind working like the most efficient combat computer, feverishly calculating every possible breakout plan. But every plan ended with a huge cross signifying annihilation.
There were too many bugs. So many that even the most ingenious tactics seemed utterly powerless.
Qingliu, the Water Caste diplomat, had long since lost his usual elegance and composure as well. He sat to one side, staring blankly at the approaching red blips. He understood that no poem, however beautiful, could fill a hungry beast's belly.
"Reconnaissance report..." A Fire Caste staff officer spoke in a voice hoarse with despair. "The swarm to the southeast contains at least three Tyrant-class organisms, as well as... as well as a massive flying unit known as a Venomthrope. Our antiaircraft firepower is insufficient to inflict meaningful damage on it."
"The canyon to the west is already filled with millions of Genestealers. They are... tunneling through the mountain, attempting to infiltrate from underground."
One piece of bad news after another struck the heart of every T'au in the command center like a cold hammer.
Just then, Liu Zhipeng's holographic image appeared in the command center, right on schedule.
He looked even more "wretched" than before. Thick bandages wrapped one arm, realistic wounds had been painted onto his face, and his eyes held the light of someone driven into a