Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1073 A Battle for Life

"Tarik—!!!"

After the explosion, Samir, who was hiding behind a bunker and almost half-buried in sand, roared in anger.

The scene was too horrific.

Everyone was shocked.

Many people were still in shock for a long time.

The strange silence lasted for more than ten seconds.

Then, someone shouted—

"For Taric! For our brothers! Kill all these beasts! Leave no one alive!!!"

Then, the "Liberation Forces" militiamen, who had been somewhat terrified by the "martyrs'" madness, suddenly felt as if they had been doused with a bucket of chicken blood.

"kill--!!!"

"For our brothers! Avenge them!"

"God is great! Fight them to the death!!"

All the suicide squad members, whether they were seasoned veterans or newly recruited soldiers, had bloodshot eyes at this moment.

Like a pride of lions enraged and driven to madness, they raised their scorching weapons and roared like a landslide and a tsunami at the chaotic enemy below.

No one felt afraid anymore.

The thought of escaping that had flashed through his mind earlier had long been shattered by the explosion.

run?
That is impossible!

Today, it's either me who dies, or those 1515 extremists on the other side who die!
It not only distinguishes between superior and inferior, but also separates life and death!
The bullets of revenge rained down on the remaining "martyrs"!

The PKM's ammunition belt bounced and extended wildly again, the scalding hot cartridge cases clanging and piling up at his feet.

After a brief respite, the DShK heavy machine gun, having cooled down somewhat, roared again with a dull, deadly force, snapping several "martyrs" who were trying to continue their charge in half.

The terrain became the suicide squad's most powerful ally at this moment.

They had a commanding view, a wide field of vision, and no blind spots when firing.

The dried-up riverbed below had become a true hell on earth—the soft sand had become muddy and treacherous after countless explosions and soaking in blood. Thick blood plasma, slippery entrails, and severed limbs covered the ground, making the surviving "martyrs" stagger and sink deep into it, like prey trapped in quicksand, moving as slowly as live targets.

Faced with the merciless storm of steel pouring down from above, their fanatical faith and "courage" to die turned into desperate struggles and meaningless wails in the face of absolute physical destruction.

The battle has devolved into an efficient and brutal one-sided massacre!

In the preceding six months, the 1515 militant group was invincible in northwestern Iligo not because of their outstanding tactical skills, but because of their fearless fighting style and their almost perverse massacre of prisoners and disobedients after capturing towns, which they then filmed and posted online to intimidate the enemy.

It has to be said, this method is very effective.

In Song Heping's view, the "martyrs'" method of charging with bombs strapped to their bodies and guns, and then self-destructing when they got close, is not even a tactic, but rather a foolish one.

However, it must be admitted that 1515 used this simple to the point of being perverse to frighten wave after wave of Iligor government troops and militia, making them invincible in the northwest.

However, the leaders of the 1515 organization seem to have forgotten one fact—

Bloodshed and brutality can breed fear, but they can also ignite the flames of revenge.

This is a double-edged sword.

At this moment, the battlefield situation has undergone a subtle change—

Fueled by vengeance and with the absolute advantage of their terrain, the surviving suicide squad members were transformed into the most ruthless and efficient killing machines.

When the gun barrel turned red-hot and started emitting blue smoke, they would pour water on it or urinate on it to cool it down before continuing to fire.

The shouts of battle, the sounds of gunfire, the explosions of grenades, and the desperate screams of the dying enemy, mixed with the acrid smoke and the suffocating stench of blood, echoed and roared repeatedly in the narrow valley, forming a symphony of death.

Seeing this breathtaking scene from afar, Song Heping was filled with emotion.

It is said that one side of a person is an angel, lest they be a devil. Once a certain stimulus is encountered, certain devilish characteristics in human blood will be triggered, and the dormant killing instinct in the blood will resurface.

The current "Liberation Forces" militia has gone completely mad and become murderous devils.

As the sound of the last grenade exploding faded into the valley, and as the final barrage of vengeful bullets was finished, the gunfire gradually subsided, eventually fading into deathly silence.

In the riverbed, the five hundred "martyrs" who charged frantically had all perished, none of them surviving.

The place where they fell formed a vast, nauseating swamp of death, composed of charred limbs, broken internal organs, and sand deeply soaked in dark red blood.

The intense, almost tangible stench of blood and the putrid smell of burning entrails completely overwhelmed the smell of gunpowder, permeating every inch of air, seeping into the nasal cavities of every survivor, and irritating their stomachs.

The surviving suicide squad members stood on the edge of the north bank fortifications, their hands gripping the scalding hot barrels of their guns, their chests heaving violently like broken bellows.

Many people stared blankly at the hellish scene below, their fingers trembling and spasming from the prolonged, intense firing. Sweat, blood, and tears mingled with mud, streaming down their exhausted faces. Victory! Once again, the enemy's most frenzied attack had been repelled.

However, the taste of this victory was rougher than sand and gravel, so heavy that it was hard to breathe.

Two-thirds of the three hundred militia daredevils have been killed in this battle...

Song Heping slowly put down the equally hot SVD in his hand. The desert camouflage uniform where the butt of the rifle rested on his shoulder was soaked with sweat, and sweat streamed down his face like a small stream.

He took out his binoculars, which were covered with anti-reflective netting, and coldly scanned the desolate southern bank positions on the opposite side.

Several surviving officers from the 1515 guild were hiding behind bunkers, peering out at the deadly wasteland on the north bank that had swallowed up five hundred "jihadists".

One of the commanders, who was obese and wore a distinctive black headscarf, had a particularly striking head. He was also the most active among them, seemingly waving his arms, trying to regroup the team.

Song Heping put down his binoculars, picked up his SVD sniper rifle again, and quickly aimed it at the repulsive black headscarf-covered head. The crosshairs steadily encircled the fat face that was distorted by extreme terror.

The distance is approximately 800 meters.

no problem……

Song calmed his breathing, calculated the ballistic correction value, found the aiming point, and gently pressed down on the trigger.

"boom!"

The crisp, solitary gunshots sounded particularly chilling in the valley where only the sound of the wind and the groans of the wounded could be heard.

The obese commander's head snapped back, a small, scarlet hole instantly appearing on his forehead, while a cloud of blood mist, a mixture of bone fragments and brain matter, exploded from the back of his head.

His obese body collapsed limply as if its bones had been removed, disappearing behind the cover.

After the obese commander fell to the ground, the other men who seemed to be the leaders instantly disappeared behind the weathered rocks like startled gerbils.

Song Heping looked down at his watch.

It has been a full two hours.

Two hours of fierce fighting pushed everyone's will to the brink of collapse.

The annihilation of those five hundred "martyrs" may not have been the end of the battle, but rather the beginning of another protracted struggle.

"They're here again!"

Sure enough, before everyone could catch their breath, hundreds of 1515 terrorists reappeared in the valley.

After his initial fury and disbelief, Ihassan quickly adjusted his strategy; he refused to back down.

I have three thousand men.

The other side seems to have only a few hundred people...

With only a few hundred people, they managed to get stuck here and unable to move an inch.

Although Song Heping's reputation was legendary, Ihassan simply couldn't believe it—

He's just an Asian!

Aren't we all just one head and one life?!

I refuse to believe I can't kill him!

His anger had completely blinded him.

"Attack! Organize an attack immediately! Their defenses are about to collapse! Quick, organize a suicide squad, charge in! Kill them all!"

Rage makes people lose their minds.

Faced with Song Heping, Ihassan's mind went blank; he couldn't come up with any effective tactics.

All he could think about was that he had already lost so many soldiers; if he couldn't take down Song Heping today, if he couldn't destroy these "Liberation Forces" militia, and if he didn't cut off their heads and upload them online, he estimated he would face severe punishment when he got back.

The punishment system within the 1515 armed group is equally harsh, and the methods used are no less merciful than those used against infidels and enemies; in fact, they are often more cruel.

This is also how they maintain their ferocity.

Another wave of militants, under the threat of gunfire from the supervising team, surged toward Ganshahe like a tidal wave.

They no longer had the fanatical mass charge of the "martyrs," but instead spread out into skirmish lines, using any craters, piles of corpses, or debris in the riverbed to infiltrate and suppress the positions on the north bank step by step.

Mortar shells began to fall in a regular pattern. Although they were not very accurate, the continuous explosions and shrapnel were slowly draining the defenders' energy and their already stretched fortifications.

The militiamen not only had to keep an eye on the front to prevent the enemy from rushing up, but also had to be on the lookout for the sound of mortar shells cutting through the air. If they heard it, they had to take cover immediately, otherwise the next shell might land right next to them.

The pressure on the defense line suddenly increased.

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)