Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1150 Night Journey
Eleven o'clock at night.

The convoy moved silently through the desolate night of the Syrian desert.

The wheels rolled over gravel and dry bushes, making a dull, continuous rustling sound, the only melody in the dark night.

The interior of the vehicle was dimly lit, with only the faint, cold light from the dashboard and individual terminal screens illuminating faces covered in camouflage paint, their expressions unreadable.

The heavy equipment was firmly secured to the well-suspended seats, swaying slightly with the vehicle's movements.

Song Heping and the hunter rode in the lead car with Major Petrovsky, "Cold Blade" Sokolov, and "Hawk Eye" Savelyev.

The hunter held his SV-98, closed his eyes to rest, and breathed evenly, as if he had already fallen asleep.

This is his habit.

But Song Heping knew that this old sniper's senses were like the most sophisticated radar, constantly scanning the surrounding environment.

Song Heping himself carefully examined the real-time satellite images received on the terminal in front of "Eagle Eye".

On a black-and-white or infrared overhead view, three green dots representing our side are slowly and steadily moving northeast, and the thermal signals of roads, villages, and even scattered vehicles within tens of kilometers are clearly visible.

"The signal is clear. 'Vine-2' has passed overhead, and there will be no blind spots in coverage for the next four hours."

"Signal," Lebedev communicated from the second vehicle; his voice was exceptionally clear through the noise-canceling headphones.

“Received. Keep monitoring in place, and report any unusual heat sources or radio activity immediately,” Petrovsky replied.

The long silence was broken by a somewhat deliberate conversation in the back of the carriage.

It was the main gunner "Iron Hammer" Volkov and the second assault soldier "Shadow" Yefimov, their voices coming through the internal communication channel, seemingly intended for Song Heping and the hunter to hear.

"Hey, 'Shadow,' remember that unfinished building in Donbas? Those guys with NLAW cards who tried to ambush us?"

"Iron Hammer" spoke in a gruff voice.

"Of course, 'Hammer'. You used PKP (you riddled the wall where they were hiding with holes, along with the furniture behind it. When we went in to clean it up, we could hardly find a single intact body."

The voice of "Shadow" carried a chilling aftertaste.

"That's nothing."

Demolition expert "Thor" Kuznetsov joined the conversation, patting the backpack beside him, which was filled with various explosives.

“I really had a blast in the North Caucasus. A group of militants were hiding in a cave, thinking they were safe. I slipped a little guy in there, calculated the angle of the shockwave refraction... and guess what? A whole platoon of them inside, and not a single one needed a follow-up shot.”

"So inefficient, 'Thor'."

Vanguard "Frost" Morozov coldly interrupted.

“I prefer close combat. Last time in the North Caucasus raid, I ran into a guy with an AK around a corner. My dagger was 0.3 seconds faster than his gun. He could clearly feel the coldness of the blade cutting through his trachea, but he couldn’t make a sound.”

As he spoke, he picked up his knife and made a throat-slitting gesture, though no one else on the channel could see it.

These dialogues are filled with bloody details, serving as both a psychological catharsis for special forces soldiers under high pressure and a clear display of pride and a renewed test of Song Heping and the other two "outsiders"—to see if they have experienced truly brutal and bloody trials.

Song Heping remained calmly watching the screen, while the hunter didn't even lift his eyelids.

Major Petrovsky frowned. He knew exactly what his arrogant teammates were up to, but he didn't say anything to stop them.

Within the special forces community, some barriers need to be broken down by the individuals involved themselves.

At this moment, the medic "Angel" Romanov's gentle voice rang out, trying to ease the atmosphere: "Alright, brothers, let's save some energy for Latamila. The 'guests' there might be even more 'enthusiastic'."

"Iron Hammer" seemed to think the firepower was insufficient, and directly asked, "Boss Song, when you're in Africa, is dealing with those black militias as easy as hunting? I heard they don't even have decent rifles."

Song Heping finally looked away from the screen and said calmly, "We're not just facing militia. We're also dealing with well-trained and well-equipped PMCs. As for the fighting, that's a minor matter, not worth mentioning..."

He paused, as if recalling something.

"The real battle is here. For example, two months ago when I returned to Iligo, I led three hundred men to fight against three thousand men from the 1515 armed group in the dry valley. In the end, we survived. We were quite lucky."

His narrative lacked flowery language and exaggerated details, but his calm, almost ruthless statement was more oppressive than the bloody descriptions given by the SSO members.

The carriage fell silent again.

These Russian special forces soldiers realized that the seemingly calm Asian man before them had probably faced just as many brutal battles as they had.

They all knew the true strength of the 1515 extremist group; they were capable of taking on thirteen hundred men and three thousand men with a single one…

Even these top Russian special forces soldiers couldn't help but feel a chill run down their spines.

"We have one hour left to reach our designated rest stop."

Hawkeye's timely report on the channel broke the silence.

"A dry riverbed has been found 10 kilometers ahead, suitable for a short period of hiding and rest."

Petrovsky nodded: "Notify all vehicles to proceed into the riverbed as planned, maintain radio silence, turn off the engines, and take a fifteen-minute break and external surveillance."

The dried-up riverbed, like a deep scar on the earth, meanders into the distance under the pale starlight.

Three Typhoon-class mine-resistant ambush protected vehicles cleverly concealed their massive bodies by taking advantage of the shadows on the riverbank and a few clumps of resilient drought-resistant shrubs. The engines had long been turned off, and the metal bodies slowly lost temperature in the cold night wind, gradually blending into the infrared signature of the surrounding environment.

This fifteen-minute break was as precious as a spring in the desert.

The team members took turns acting with strict tactical discipline.

They set up a makeshift perimeter in pairs, using vehicles and natural cover, while the others quickly took care of their personal needs, checking the webbing and buckles of their equipment, the silencers of their firearms, and the batteries in their night vision goggles.

No one spoke; the only sounds were the soft clanging of equipment and the rustling of boots on gravel.

Song Heping sat down with his back against the huge run-flat tires of the lead vehicle, the cold touch coming through his combat uniform.

He took off his helmet, letting the night wind blow through his slightly sweaty hair, while still wearing the individual radio headset in his ears to ensure he didn't miss any instructions.

His gaze, like that of a hawk, slowly swept across the jagged outlines of the riverbed on both banks, outlined by starlight. No unnatural movement or reflection escaped his eyes.

The hunter sat not far from him, having woken up at some point, and was meticulously wiping the bolt of his SV-98 sniper rifle with a soft chamois cloth in the dim light.

"How does it feel?"

Song Heping asked in a low voice in Chinese.

The hunter didn't even look up, his voice hoarse from years of smoking, yet unusually steady: "Very strange." "How so?" Song Heping's lips twitched almost imperceptibly, a half-smile playing on his lips as he asked.

"Mysterious..."

The hunter muttered something and precisely reattached the gleaming bolt back into the gun with a crisp click, the sound particularly clear in the silence.

"Have they still not told you what you're going to do in Latamila?"

"No." Song Heping shook his head gently.

The hunter scanned the surroundings but did not see Petrovsky.

"Be careful of the Russians, they can rip you off too."

"I will." Song Heping suddenly smiled: "Aren't you from over there too?"

The hunter snorted and said, "I'm not of Russian descent."

Song Heping did not continue this sensitive topic.

He also knew that all former Soviet republics were wary of Russia after the collapse of the Soviet Union; it was ingrained in their very being and could not be changed. It was best not to argue with them about such issues, as it would only make him look foolish.

The fifteen minutes seemed to be abruptly cut off by an invisible hand.

Major Petrovsky reappeared in everyone's sight. He raised his wrist and flashed a laser pointer at a specific frequency rapidly in the direction of each vehicle.

The team members, like parts in a precision instrument, sprang into action instantly.

The sentries retreated silently, the equipment checkers quickly shouldered their packs, and everyone returned to their respective carriages in the quietest and most efficient way.

The heavy armored vehicle door was gently closed, producing a dull, airtight impact sound.

The engine roared low, but the revs were kept to a minimum. The convoy, like a giant beast awakening from its slumber, slowly drove out of the riverbed and plunged once again into the boundless curtain of darkness.

About two hours after leaving the relatively safe riverbed rest point, the convoy was traveling across a vast and flat gravel desert. While this terrain was conducive to observation, it was also extremely easy to be spotted.

The stars in the night sky are clearly visible, but for modern warfare, the real "stars" are the artificial satellites that are orbiting in space.

Suddenly, "Signal" Lebedev's voice came through the internal channel.

"Major! Report! 'Vine-2' signal strength has dropped sharply... Connection lost! Repeat, contact with 'Vine-2' lost! Attempting to switch to backup channel to 'Vine-1'... Under severe interference! Extremely poor signal-to-noise ratio, extremely unstable data link, and complete interruption of high-definition image transmission!"

The air inside the carriage cooled down instantly.

Major Petrovsky's heart sank.

Satellite support is their greatest asset in this perilous enemy-occupied territory; it is like a "sky eye" hanging high above them.

The sudden blindness of "Sky Eye" has brought enormous psychological impact and practical risks.

"Can you determine the nature and approximate direction of the interference source?"

Petrovsky's voice remained steady, but his speaking speed noticeably increased.

"It's like... targeted broadband jamming, covering a wide frequency band, with the source impossible to pinpoint, but with extremely high power!"

"The signal," Lebedev reported rapidly, his fingers slid quickly across the reinforced plate, attempting to analyze the signal's characteristics.

"It's not just the 'Vine' series; our link with the 'Role' high-resolution optical satellite has also been severely affected! Currently, the effective reconnaissance range has been compressed to less than ten kilometers, and the image delay is as high as ten minutes or more, with very poor image quality, basically losing its value for real-time early warning!"

ten kilometers.

For a convoy traveling at speeds of over 60 kilometers per hour in open terrain, this warning time is fleeting; they may have just detected the enemy when they have already entered the enemy's effective firing range.

The atmosphere inside the carriage was so oppressive that it was hard to breathe; everyone could hear their own heartbeat.

The sense of control that once came from satellite imagery has disappeared, replaced by a sense of uncertainty, like groping forward in a fog.

"Hawkeye."

Petrovsky took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Immediately release the drones to advance three kilometers for reconnaissance, focusing on scanning the flanks of our planned routes A and B. The entire convoy must reduce to forty kilometers per hour, maintain absolute radio silence, and proceed using inertial navigation and offline terrain data."

"Understood! Drones take off!"

"Eagle Eye" Savelyev skillfully operated the control unit, and a faint, almost imperceptible hum of an electric motor came from the roof.

A discreet quadcopter reconnaissance drone, coated with radar-absorbing material, detached itself from the vehicle like a bat in the night, quickly climbed up, and flew towards the unknown dark airspace ahead, becoming the convoy's only reliable outpost at this moment.

Song Heping's brows furrowed tightly as he stared sharply at the satellite map on the screen, which had become blurry and severely delayed.

The probability of losing space-based support at this critical moment being a coincidence is extremely low.

Did the US military detect their movements and activate theater electronic countermeasures?

Or did the Kold'd militants deploy large-scale jamming equipment in a specific area? Or perhaps...

Is there a third-party intervention?

Either way, losing satellite reconnaissance means they have stepped from a relatively safe shadow into a more dangerous spotlight, with the risk level rising exponentially.

The convoy slowed down, and the massive Typhoon tanks seemed to have also subsided, moving cautiously across the gravel beach.

Inside the vehicle, everyone held their breath, relying not only on the onboard equipment but also on all their senses—their ears straining to discern any unusual engine noise mixed in with the wind, their eyes fixed on their assigned sector through the night vision goggles and observation windows, as if trying to penetrate the thick armor to perceive any sign of danger from the outside world.

Infrared images transmitted back by the reconnaissance drone showed that everything ahead was "normal": the cracked and broken earth appeared as a cold, dark blue in the night, the undulating hills resembled the back of a sleeping giant, there were no heat signals of large-scale troop movements, and no obvious vehicle lights.

This “normal” behavior actually makes people more uneasy.

Danger often lurks beneath seemingly calm details.

Just as the convoy was about to pass through a natural pass formed by two heavily eroded rocky hills, a crisis suddenly struck!

The driver of the lead vehicle suddenly lowered his voice and reported urgently: "There was a brief flash of light on the right ridge, at the two o'clock position! It was very faint, like the reflection of a lens or the light from a small electronic device screen! It was gone in an instant!"

Almost simultaneously with his report, "Eagle Eye" Savelyev exclaimed in a low voice: "The drone detected scattered heat sources about 800 meters away on the other side of the pass! There are six to eight of them, moving in a loose formation... Wait! The equipment they are carrying... has abnormal thermal signatures! There is a box-shaped object that is constantly heating up, and it has considerable power; it doesn't seem to be a typical individual weapon!"

Major Petrovsky's pupils contracted sharply. Without hesitation, he immediately issued a series of concise and clear orders: "All units stop! Engines off! Maintain maximum concealment! 'Cold Blade' and 'Frost', advance immediately to conduct tactical reconnaissance! Ascertain the enemy's numbers, equipment, and deployment! 'Eagle Eye', operate the drone to observe closely and prioritize identifying the abnormal heat source! Everyone else, stay in the vehicles and prepare for battle!"

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(End of this chapter)