Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1047 The Hunt by the MQ-9 Reaper Drone
The rough aluminum foil lining of the thermal blanket rubbed against Song Heping's cheeks, and the cold wind of the plateau was like countless icy whips, lashing at his limbs that were barely wrapped in the blanket.

He pressed himself against the cold, rough rock wall, curling his body to its limit, making himself look like a lifeless rock.

The MQ-9 Reaper drone relentlessly plowed across the sky above us again and again.

Its enormous wingspan cast a deathly shadow that weighed heavily on Song Heping's every nerve.

Perhaps feeling the altitude was too high, or perhaps the operator at the drone control center in Nevada thought the target had already spotted them and was deliberately hiding, or perhaps there was nothing here that could threaten the drone's safety, the operator began to boldly lower the altitude and conduct a thorough scan of the area.

Each time it flew overhead, the faint hum of its engine transmitted through the air and rocks felt like a cold awl piercing Song Heping's eardrums, announcing the hunter's presence.

Can't move.

Infrared signals are the most deadly beacon.

Time became viscous and long amidst the extreme cold and intense tension.

Sweat soaked through the lining, then quickly turned icy cold in the biting high-altitude air, clinging tightly to the skin.

The muscles stiffen due to prolonged stillness, and even begin to tremble slightly.

He forced himself to breathe the smallest, almost imperceptible breaths, taking each inhale carefully to avoid excessive chest rise and fall.

The infrared camera mounted under the nose of the MQ-9 drone is incredibly sensitive.

He can detect even the slightest amount of infrared radiation emitted.

The thermal blanket blocked most of his vital heat, but at the cost of his body heat not being able to dissipate, and the sweat-soaked clothes created a damp and cold torture inside.

ten minutes.

twenty minutes.

Maybe longer.

Death swept past again, and this time, its flight path seemed to have a very slight pause.

The pause was so brief it was almost an illusion, yet it felt like a bucket of ice water instantly drenching Song Heping's spine!

Locked Out?

Or is it just adjusting the scanning angle?
Can't wait any longer!

Just as the drone's nose turned and was about to begin the next round of scanning, Song Heping moved!

Instead of running, it stayed close to the ground, like a lizard scurrying among the rocks, using the narrow "blind spot" formed by the interlacing shadows of the rocks that it had just observed, and leaped forward using both hands and feet!
The movements were swift yet unusually low, with the thermal blanket trailing behind to conceal the body's outline and any potential sources of heat leakage as much as possible.

Gravel and sharp weathered debris prickled his knees and palms, causing excruciating pain, but he paid no heed.

He rushed out for more than ten meters, then suddenly fell down again, burrowing into the base of another rock with a natural groove, wrapping himself tightly in the thermal blanket again, and burying himself in the deepest part of the shadow.

My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, crashing against my ribs, almost bursting out of my chest.

He held his breath and listened intently.

The buzzing of the drone engine suddenly increased overhead!

It clearly captured that unusual movement just moments ago.

The circling circle suddenly shrank, and the altitude decreased, like a vulture that had smelled blood, staring intently at the area.

The cold "gaze" of the high-precision photoelectric probe swept over the rock where Song Heping was hiding again and again.

Cold sweat instantly soaked Song Heping's forehead.

He gripped the edge of the thermal blanket tightly, each second feeling like an eternity. He could almost feel the cold, electronic gaze piercing through the rock, scanning his silhouette.

The "Reaper" drone circled in the nearby airspace, like a gradually tightening net of death.

We can no longer afford to be passively attacked!
The other party had clearly sensed that something was wrong.

Song Heping's gaze swept over the surrounding terrain.

To the left is a steep, almost vertical rock face, riddled with weathered cracks, difficult to climb and easily exposed.

The terrain on the right is relatively flat, but it is covered with gravel and lacks large shelters, making it an open death zone.

Directly ahead, in the direction the canyon extends, a dry riverbed, about a meter deep, carved out by seasonal floods, meanders forward. On both sides of the riverbed, a large number of rocks of various sizes, transported by the water, have been piled up, forming a natural, discontinuous shelter belt.

That's it!

He took a deep breath, suppressing the surging smell of blood and fear in his chest.

Just as "Reaper" completed another high-precision scan and its nose tilted slightly upward in preparation for the next, larger-scale search—

Song Heping suddenly threw off the thermal blanket, his body springing out like a spring compressed to its limit.

Instead of running in a straight line, he followed the edge of the dry riverbed, using the jagged rocks as jump points and temporary cover, and leaped forward in an irregular zigzag pattern!
step!
Stomp!

roll!

One more step!
jump!

Pounce on him!
Every movement was explosive, and every pause was used to take the briefest possible cover by using rocks or bends in the riverbed.

He was like a gray lightning bolt leaping wildly on the edge of death.

call out--! ! !
A piercing, ear-splitting screech descended from the sky! A Hellfire air-to-ground missile, trailing an orange-red tail flame, shot precisely at the massive rock he had just left less than two seconds ago, like the Grim Reaper's spear of judgment!
"Boom!!!"

A deafening explosion suddenly rang out.

The violent shockwave, mixed with scorching air currents and countless fragments of rock, swept across the entire riverbed like a storm!
The moment Song Heping fell, he felt as if an invisible giant hammer had struck his back. He was thrown several meters away by the shockwave and crashed heavily onto the hard gravel. His internal organs seemed to have shifted, stars flashed before his eyes, and all he could hear was a sharp buzzing in his ears.

Smoke and dust filled the air, obscuring visibility. The acrid smell of gunpowder and rock dust filled the nostrils.

A burning pain shot through my right arm and back; I must have been hit by flying debris.

He struggled to get up, but felt a piercing pain in his left leg. Looking down, he saw a sharp piece of stone deeply embedded in his calf muscle, blood quickly staining his trouser leg. "Damn it..."

He cursed under his breath, the sharp pain instantly clearing his somewhat dizzy mind.

He gritted his teeth, used all his strength, and pulled the stone shard out.

Fresh blood gushed out immediately.

Without even looking, he quickly took out the first aid kit, used his teeth and right hand to remove the bandage, and bandaged the wound to stop the bleeding.

Can't stop!
Stopping means death!
Despite the excruciating pain and dizziness, he used both hands and feet, dragging his injured leg, to scramble and crawl toward a deeper, more hidden bend in the riverbed.

The roar of the drone engine overhead grew closer, carrying a cruel excitement of prey about to be captured.

It is descending, preparing for the final confirmation and decisive strike!

Song Heping leaned against the cold rock, his chest heaving violently, each breath aggravating the pain throughout his body.

He pulled out the heavy, encrypted satellite phone, his fingers trembling slightly from blood loss and the cold, but he still quickly turned it on.

"Du...du..."

The brief few seconds of waiting for the call to connect felt suffocatingly long.

The sound of the drone's rotors churning the air overhead grew clearer and clearer, like the death knell of the Grim Reaper.

Finally, the call was connected.

"Avanti!"

Song Heping's voice was hoarse and cold, filled with uncontrollable rage and a bloody smell, almost squeezed out from between his teeth.

"Where are your men?! Where is your secrecy?! I haven't even set foot on Persian soil yet, and those American bastards in your Revolutionary Guard, and that damned 'Grim Reaper' in the sky, are already throwing me a welcome party! Is this place a fucking sieve?!"

Langley, CIA headquarters, Director's office.

"Confirmed! Director Vincent! The target is in the northwestern part of the Persian Plateau, on the Iligor side of the border between Iligor and Persia! 'Death' has transmitted clear thermal and optical images! It's him! Song Heping! He's injured!"

Williams practically burst through the office door, his voice slightly distorted with extreme excitement, waving a printout of the latest images he'd just retrieved from the tactical intelligence center.

Vincent abruptly stood up from behind the massive oak desk, his bloodshot eyes, swollen from days of setbacks, suddenly flashing with a terrifying light, as if gasoline had been poured onto a dying ember.

He snatched the image from Williams' hand.

On the printed paper, the enhanced image is clearly visible: a figure in a long robe is fleeing in a disheveled state through a rugged canyon riverbed.

Another thermal image clearly outlines his silhouette as he lay prone behind the rocks, as well as the obvious heat trail left by his explosive sprint.

Despite the somewhat blurry and distracting images, Vincent had seen the figure and manner of movement countless times in numerous intelligence files and videos, and it was etched into his memory.

"Song Heping..."

Vincent murmured the name, his fingers almost crushing the edge of the printer paper with his grip.

The anger, humiliation, and anxiety that had been building up for days found the perfect outlet at this moment.

A thrilling, almost ecstatic sensation shot up my spine and to the top of my head.

"Finally... finally caught you, you slippery rat! He's still in Iriegola and hasn't entered Persia yet... Good! Excellent!"

He abruptly looked up, his eyes burning with an undisguised, scorching killing intent: "Williams, immediately coordinate with the 160th Air Regiment's special operations team stationed in Iligo, and have them move out immediately! I want the most elite 'Delta Force' or 'Ranger' squads! Objective: Capture Song Heping alive! If they encounter strong resistance, kill them without mercy! Authorize them to use all necessary means! Immediately! Right now! I want him to be unable to escape!"

"Yes, Chief! I will immediately coordinate with the Bakdad side and the Special Operations Command!" Williams stood at attention, accepted the order, and turned to rush out.

"and many more!"

Vincent stopped him, his eyes flashing with a venomous light. "Notify our 'Gardener' (the code name for the Persian mole) in the 'Garden'! Tell him the target has been locked on the Iligo side of the border, and send him the coordinates immediately! Have him use all resources to keep a close watch on the Revolutionary Guard's movements! That old fox, Afanti, will definitely not sit idly by and watch Song Heping die on the border! He will definitely send someone to meet him! Have 'Gardener' keep a close watch, especially on that Zahari guy's special operations company! Report any movement immediately! I need to know every move of the Revolutionary Guard's support force! Let them run into our guns!"

"Understood! Double insurance! He definitely can't escape this time!"

Williams nodded emphatically and walked away quickly.

The heavy office door closed.

Vincent walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window and looked down at the neatly manicured lawns of the Langley headquarters and the lush forests in the distance.

The bright sunshine created a bizarre contrast with the bloodlust churning within him at that moment.

He could almost see Song Heping being pinned to the ground by special forces, or becoming a cold corpse.

"It's over, Song Heping."

He spoke softly to the scenery outside the window, a cold smile playing on his lips.

"This cat-and-mouse game should come to an end."

Just as Vincent was basking in the thrill of his impending victory, Deputy Director Simon Brennan quietly returned to his office. He locked the door, and the usual gentle, even somewhat sluggish expression on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a deep, calm, and sharp look. He went to his desk, didn't turn on his computer, but instead took out an ordinary-looking old Nokia phone from the depths of a drawer and expertly replaced it with a prepaid anonymous SIM card.

He quickly drafted a text message, extremely concise, containing only two seemingly unrelated sets of words:
"The wolf of Bakda has left its den to hunt in the northwest. Be careful of the low temperatures at high altitudes and take care."

He entered a satellite phone number that was encrypted with multiple layers of redirection and pressed the send button without hesitation.

The indicator light flashed faintly once, signifying that the message had been successfully sent.

Simon immediately turned off his phone, removed the SIM card, cut it into pieces with a cigar cutter from the table, threw it into the ashtray, and lit it with a lighter.

The plastic fragments quickly curled up, charred, and turned to ash in the flames.

He opened the window, letting the breeze dispel the faint smell of burning, and his face regained its harmless, gentle expression, as if nothing had happened.

　Asking for a monthly ticket! Asking for a monthly ticket!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)