Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1072 Martyrs

Smoke, like a filthy shroud, heavily covered both banks of the dry sand river.

On the second line of defense, Song Heping leaned against a solid rock formation, unloading the empty magazine from his SVD sniper rifle.

"Click!"

The cassette made a soft popping sound.

He took a new, fully loaded magazine from the magazine pouch of his tactical vest, skillfully slapped it into the gun, then leaned slightly forward to extend the barrel and reattached his eyes to the sun-warmed rubber goggles of the PSO-1 scope.

In the field of vision, the 1515 militants, hundreds of meters away, temporarily lost the courage to launch a large-scale charge, resembling a pack of hyenas huddled together.

This brief period of calm is a time for both sides to lick their wounds, but it is also the prelude to another storm brewing.

Song Heping's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty, and his chapped lips opened and closed silently, as if gathering the last bit of saliva. He tore off the tube from the water bag, put it in his mouth, and sipped a few mouthfuls—but he didn't dare drink too much. Drinking too much water under the scorching sun would cause excessive sweating and electrolyte loss. Besides, if he drank too much, his bladder would be full of urine, and if a shell landed nearby, it would probably shake the urine out.

He dared not relax his vigilance for a moment, his eyes scanning every suspicious movement on the opposite bank like a hawk.

Just then, something unusual happened on the 1515 militants' position—the billowing smoke and dust intensified, and a sharp, strange whistle sounded, seemingly like a bugle call.

"Ok?"

Song Heping's brows furrowed instantly.

He held his breath, quickly adjusted the magnification of the scope, and focused his vision on the direction from which the sound came—a relatively open sandy area behind the south bank position.

The sight before him sent a chill down his spine.

Hundreds of militants are gathering.

They were completely different from the ordinary soldiers who had been dressed in haphazard clothes before.

They wore uniform black clothes and black headbands tightly wrapped around their foreheads, with scriptures such as "The gates of heaven have been opened" scrawled in white paint.

Their eyes were terrifyingly empty, as if their souls had long since departed, leaving only a morbid thirst for death.

Everyone lined up on the sand and knelt down facing a certain direction.

His lips moved silently, muttering incantations, as if he were making a final prayer, or as if he were hypnotizing himself, or as if he were performing some kind of prayer ritual.

What's even more chilling are their "decorations"—bundles of TNT explosives and tandem grenades covering their backs like armor plates; or simply wearing crude yet deadly explosive vests with the detonator ring hanging prominently on their chests.

Among them, a few priests waving green flags and wearing black robes, like overseers of hell, moved back and forth in the ranks, inciting the crowd with hoarse voices and whipping anyone who was even slightly slow.

The supervisory team, dressed in camouflage and carrying automatic weapons, stood coldly on the perimeter, their guns seemingly pointed at the backs of these strange men.

"Martyrs..."

Song Heping squeezed out these three words between his teeth.

"Samir! Nassin! Attention everyone! The enemy is going all out! It's the 'Martyrs'! Prepare for the charge!"

His voice suddenly rose, carrying an undeniable resolve, instantly shattering the brief silence.

The air on the position seemed to freeze; even breathing became cautious.

They were not afraid to fight to the death, but when faced with this sea of human bombs that charged purely for death and used self-destruction as a means, a fear originating from biological instinct spread uncontrollably in everyone's heart.

"For Heaven! For Eternal Paradise! For the seventy-two holy C-class maidens! Charge—!!!"

A piercing cry, like the wailing of an owl, ripped through the sky.

In an instant, the five hundred "martyrs" moved.

It wasn't a charge, it was a collapse!

It's a black tidal wave bursting its banks!

They spread out of each other to avoid being blown up when they self-destructed, and then, like a moving net, rushed toward the second direction.

A deafening howl erupted from everyone's mouth, a sound devoid of anger or pain, but filled only with a chilling, ecstatic ecstasy of destruction.

"Fire! Fire! Stop them with all your might! Stop them! Don't let them get close!" Samir's voice exploded in the throat microphone, completely distorted, filled with unprecedented panic.

The PKM machine gun in his hand was the first to spew fire, emitting a roar like tearing cloth.

The north bank position instantly erupted in cheers!

All the weapons that could spew death roared!
“Da da da da da—!”

The ammunition belt of the PKM general-purpose machine gun bounced wildly, and the scalding hot cartridge cases cascaded down like a golden waterfall.

“Boom boom boom boom—!”

The DShK heavy machine gun's dull yet powerful roar was like the drums of death, its 12.7mm bullets easily tearing human bodies apart.

"Boom!"

The RPG rocket launcher, trailing a plume of flame, whistled as it crashed into the dense crowd, raising a sandstorm mixed with blood and flesh.

"Bang bang bang-!"

The sound of AKM assault rifles firing filled the air as the suicide squad members, their eyes bloodshot, pulled the triggers all the way down!
Bullet holes flew out from the ejection port, emitting plumes of white smoke as they landed on the sand with a clanging sound.

The web of death formed by the "martyrs" instantly enveloped the riverbed.

The "martyrs" at the forefront fell and were blown apart as if swept by an invisible giant scythe.

Black uniform fragments mixed with scarlet flesh and blood splattered in the smoke.

However, those behind seemed oblivious to the hellish scene. They continued their charge, howling as they stepped over the still-convulsing remains of their comrades and the scalding sand soaked in blood!
Meanwhile, the 1515 armed positions behind them were also firing all their light and heavy weapons, even small mortars, frantically unleashing firepower at the "Liberation Forces" militia suicide squad on the second line of defense, providing fire support for the "Martyrs".

Even after paying a terrible price, the "martyrs" are still relentlessly closing in!

Three hundred meters!
Two hundred and fifty meters!
Two hundred meters!
"Damn it! I can't control them! These guys are lunatics! They're not human!"

Nassin's facial muscles were twitching. As a Persian, this was his first time dealing with these 1515 extremists.

I've heard these guys are perverts.

But I never expected it to be this insane!
He used to despise the Iligos, thinking how could they allow these extremist groups to run rampant on their land? If it were him... humph...

just now……

Nassin felt he had been arrogant in the past...

The barrel of the DShK heavy machine gun he was operating was already red-hot, radiating scorching heat, and the barrel could even be seen to be slightly twisted under the high temperature.

He grabbed his water bottle and poured the precious water onto the gun barrel.

"Zi la——!"

A piercing white mist rose up, only to be instantly evaporated by the scorching heat.

The PKM machine gunner next to him also cursed in despair: "It's jammed! Damn ammunition belt!"

He frantically tried to troubleshoot the problem.

The firepower network inevitably began to falter and develop gaps!

The black tide surged forward even faster, like a school of piranhas attracted by the smell of blood!
One hundred and eighty meters!

160 meters!

One hundred and fifty meters!

Through the billowing smoke, the suicide squad members of "Liberation Force" could even clearly see the extreme desire for death in the eyes of the enemy at the front line—it wasn't fear, it was greed!

It is greed for the glory of "martyrdom"!
A chilling despair, like a venomous snake, coiled around the hearts of many newly recruited suicide squad members.

They were not afraid to exchange fire with the enemy, nor were they afraid of hand-to-hand combat, but faced with these irrational madmen who only sought mutual destruction, and seeing those twisted, fanatical, and ever-approaching faces, their biological instinct for fear of destruction overwhelmed their will to fight.

The defenses began to crack on a psychological level.

"Hold on! God is great! Hold on! Think of your families! Think of the land behind you!"

Samir, his eyes blazing with fury, abandoned his jammed PKM, rushed to another machine gun, roughly shoved aside the nearly exhausted gunner, and personally took up the gun to fire.

His roar was hoarse and laced with blood.

But it's just a drop in the ocean...

The black tide of death had already approached within 120 meters! The ferocious faces of the "martyrs" at the forefront were clearly visible, and some were even grinning as they reached out to grab the fuse ring on their chests!

The defense line is already on the verge of collapse!
At that critical moment!

"Shafar's brother! Ali's brother! Wait for me!!!"

A deafening roar suddenly erupted from a frontline foxhole.

A young militiaman named Taric leaped out like a cannonball!

He was covered in blood, and his left arm hung limply at an odd angle, clearly broken by a bullet.

The image of his comrade choosing to detonate a grenade at the last moment flashed through his mind. With his arm already broken, he knew he had no chance of survival today.

Rather than die, I'd rather take a few people down with me!

At this moment, there was no fear on Taric's face, only determination!

With his remaining right hand, he ripped open his already tattered shirt, revealing his muscular chest—and the countless TNT explosive blocks tightly bound together with tape and rope.

Even more chilling was the sight of a whole ring of RGD-5 grenades with the safety pins removed, hanging around his neck.

The fuse is hissing and emitting deadly blue smoke!
"For Ilgah! Allah is the Greatest!!!"

With a roar like the final war drums, Taric charged down the north bank slope at an astonishing speed, rushing towards the closest and densest group of "martyrs." Despite being hit by several bullets, he pounced on one of the "martyrs" like a wolf, grabbing him and rolling down the sand dune together.

Those "martyrs" who followed saw the two rolling toward them.

All of this happened so suddenly.

The "martyrs" never expected that there were people in the militia who were even more fearless than themselves.

Many people didn't even have time to react, they were too busy firing their guns at the rolling "human ball" to dodge.

next second!
“BOOM Boom Boom Boom!!!”

A terrifying roar that defies description!
A fireball, brighter than the midday sun, suddenly rose less than fifty meters from the front line of the suicide squad.

Time seemed to freeze for a single frame.

Immediately afterwards——

With Taric as the center, everything within a 30-meter radius was instantly torn to pieces by unimaginable, violent energy.

Taric and the unfortunate "martyr" were reduced to dust in the air!

The explosion triggered a chain reaction, affecting other nearby "martyrs," some of whom had their personal explosives detonated.

Rumbling--

The enemies further away were like scarecrows in a storm, violently thrown into the air, their internal organs shattered, blood flowing from their seven orifices, and when they landed, they were twisted wrecks.

That dense, unstoppable black tide was forcibly and brutally blasted open, creating a vacuum zone with a diameter of over 100 meters!
　Asking for a monthly ticket! Asking for a monthly ticket!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)