Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1152 Route C
The terrorists' final cries were like a boulder thrown into a lake, the ripples spreading outwards at an alarming speed.

Major Petrovsky darted forward, nimbly crouched down, and swiftly extended his finger to probe the corpse's carotid artery—

There was no movement, only a deathly, cold silence.

This guy is really done for this time.

His gaze immediately fell on the crude yet deadly radio. The red signal light had been extinguished, but the air seemed to still carry the silent shriek of when it sent a warning signal to the unknown distance.

"asshole!"

A curse in Russian was squeezed out from between Petrovsky's teeth.

He suddenly raised his head and looked around. It seemed as if countless pairs of eyes were lurking behind every shadow, in the mountains, boulders, and dried-up riverbeds.

He was assessing how many vicious wolves, drawn by the smell of blood, the alarm would attract.

It could be a patrol team nearby, or the lunatics from the nearby 1515 armed camp.

Now, we must take immediate action based on the emergency situation.

Time has become the most luxurious thing.

"Clean up the scene! As fast as you can! Drag the bodies and weapons into the crevices between the rocks and cover them with sand! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! We don't have time!"

His voice suppressed a raging rage and an immense sense of urgency, like magma surging underground before a volcanic eruption; every "fast" lashed at the heart of each team member like a whip.

The team members, who had become slightly complacent due to the successful ambush, were completely jolted awake by this sudden turn of events and the major's rare loss of composure.

Everyone realized the seriousness of the matter.

No one spoke, only their movements suddenly accelerated.

The heavy corpses were roughly dragged by the two men, leaving dark red drag marks on the sand and gravel; the scattered AK rifles and magazines were picked up haphazardly and thrown into the deep crevices of the rocks like garbage; the technical sergeant frantically searched the bodies of the reconnaissance soldiers, prying off the cameras on their helmets and taking off the core modules of their individual radios from their waists, stuffing them all into his thick waterproof backpack.

Meanwhile, in a car not far away, Song Heping took a deep breath of the cold, murky air, as if trying to suppress the sudden chill rising in his chest.

He closed his eyes, and countless worst possibilities flashed through his mind.

The worst-case scenario has come to pass in the worst possible way.

The secrecy of their operations is the team's greatest asset for survival.

Now everything seems to be in danger of being disrupted...

However, the keywords "Russians" and "Vehicle A" are like a boulder thrown into a calm pond, which will inevitably arouse the highest level of vigilance and chain reaction among all the surrounding forces—those "1515" extremist organizations that roam like hyenas and are extremely sensitive to any disturbance.

They would set up observation posts all over the area, send out large forces to search for every trace, and then swarm in like sharks that have smelled blood.

The SSO team has now transformed from shadowy infiltrators into prey in the open.

Every kilometer of the journey ahead could lead to a pre-set ambush; behind every mountain ridge, a deadly trap might lurk.

"Hunter, prepare."

Song Heping expertly checked the rifling of the HK416 in his hand again, confirming that the bolt was moving smoothly. "It seems that our good days are over from now on."

The hunter did not reply, not even nodding.

He merely adjusted the mount of the SV-98 sniper rifle resting on the edge of the car window. His cold gaze seemed welded to the high-powered scope, his pupils slightly contracting. Like the most patient predator, he began to scan inch by inch the convoy's rear and flanks, focusing on the most advantageous high points and shadowy rocks for ambush and observation.

His absolute focus and the gun barrel poised to fire at any moment demonstrated that he was in a state of maximum combat readiness.

The convoy dared not linger for even a second longer.

There wasn't even time to conduct a preliminary analysis of the valuable captured thermal imager, trying to glean any information about the enemy's deployment.

After concealing all traces of the battle as much as possible, the three Typhoon K armored vehicles sped away from the cursed place that had brought them bad luck at a speed far exceeding their previous travel standards.

Although everyone understands that under the search and tracking of the 1515 armed forces, such a hasty cover-up is tantamount to burying one's head in the sand.

The atmosphere inside the carriage instantly plummeted to freezing point, heavy and oppressive, as if even the air itself had solidified into a block of iron, making it hard to breathe.

The relaxed atmosphere that the team members had previously shared, tinged with a sense of testing and a bit of showing off, had vanished, replaced by a high degree of tension about the unknown risks ahead.

The radio remained strictly silent, but the suppressed, slightly heavy breathing of everyone on the internal channels conveyed the same message more clearly than any noise: We've been exposed!
After a brief silence, "Shadow" Yefimov's voice came through the encrypted channel, filled with undisguised frustration and deep self-reproach, even sounding somewhat hoarse: "Major...it was my mistake. I confirmed the first target, but...I should have fired another shot, or taken control of the second one faster...to ensure he was completely dead."

As the closest assault operative, he felt an inescapable responsibility.

“It’s not entirely your fault, Yefimov.”

Petrovsky interrupted him.

Although his tone remained stern, he did not resort to blaming; he knew that stabilizing morale was more important than assigning blame at this moment.

"This was an accident... This encounter was completely beyond our initial expectations, and the mistake in the battle was not your fault alone, but the fault of our entire team."

He then shifted the focus back to reality.

"Now is not the time to assign personal blame; that will only hasten our demise! The most urgent task is to calm down, assess our current situation, and decide where to go next!"

He immediately issued a new order: "'Signal,' this is the lead vehicle. Immediately attempt to use all backup emergency frequencies, activate the highest level 'Storm' encryption protocol, and send the shortest alert code to command: 'Rattlesnake.' Repeat code: 'Rattlesnake.' Message content: Possibly exposed, encountered enemy technical reconnaissance unit, brief firefight occurred, enemy has prior warning. Requesting urgent enemy situation updates and route guidance. Repeat, highest priority! Highest!" "Understood! Attempting to establish a link... the jamming is still very strong, the signal is extremely weak, like it's being muffled! We cannot guarantee that the message will be successfully sent and a reply will be received!"

"Signal," Lebedev's voice came through the radio, carrying a clear sense of frustration and helplessness, against a background of crackling electrical noise.

"Should we reacquire images via satellite link?"

"Not yet, it's a window of opportunity. The next connection will be at least three hours later."

"Sokka!"

Petrovsky cursed again.

Keep trying! Don't stop!

Song Heping watched coldly from the sidelines.

That's how special operations work.

Special forces soldiers may seem like divine warriors descending from the heavens, but in reality, they are quite vulnerable.

In real-world operations, even the slightest accident or oversight can cause the entire plan to fail.

How to handle it depends on the commander's on-the-spot response.

Petrovsky also knew at this point that they now needed to rely on themselves more.

Suddenly, he turned to look at Song Heping beside him.

He had previously reviewed Song Heping's background information.

this person……

It seems that it has never failed in previous battles.

"Song, what's your assessment of the current situation? How much room for maneuver do we still have?"

Song Heping had already analyzed that electronic map in his mind countless times.

He did not take the opportunity to ridicule the SSO team members.

This is not the time for infighting or even making jokes.

He pointed to the area marked in deep red on the screen, his tone almost cruelly calm: "Those gunshots, especially that alarm signal that was likely fired, have definitely attracted attention. The nearest place with rapid response capabilities is probably a small town about thirty kilometers to the northwest. According to the intelligence I saw earlier, there are 1515 armed personnel stationed there, equipped with armored vehicles and mortars; or another known stronghold about forty kilometers to the southeast. Although poorly equipped, the personnel are fanatical and familiar with mountain warfare. If that surveillance team was one of them, I estimate they would be at the scene of the previous battle in less than half an hour, and then..."

He shrugged and said in a low voice, "We'll be targeted by mad dogs."

Petrovsky remained silent, his gaze fixed on the map, searching for new, secure infiltration routes.

Song Heping added, "Actually, it's not just the 1515 armed group that will make things difficult for us; the most crucial factor is the US military."

"The US military?" Petrovsky was stunned.

“That’s right. Latamila is a Kold's controlled area. According to intelligence from my own company, the Americans seem to have sent military advisors and even groups like Delta Force or Green Berets to the Kold's controlled areas in Syria recently because of the strong momentum of the 1515 armed forces in the Middle East. I think those strong electronic jammings are actually their doing. After all, this is an area bordering the 1515 and Kold's controlled areas. Maintaining strong jamming is beneficial for them to hinder the 1515's military operations.”

"You mean they'll intercept the radio signals sent by that 1515 surveillance team?" Petrovsky seemed to have guessed something.

Song Heping said, "What do you think?"

Petrovsky fell silent again.

Song Heping continued, "Once they learn that Russians are here, they will be extremely vigilant, like a hornet's nest has been stirred up. They will most likely increase their vigilance and patrols, block all major passages, and immediately dispatch technical reconnaissance means, such as 'Gray Eagle' or 'Predator' drones, or 'Black Hawk' helicopters carrying special forces, to conduct a fan-shaped search and interception in our direction."

Petrovsky frowned as he stared at the electronic map for a long time, then took out a stylus and slowly swiped it across the map, eventually leaving a more meandering path that followed the contour lines almost entirely, deliberately avoiding all known roads, villages, and even seasonal pastures.

“Our original Route A and backup Route B infiltration routes are no longer safe. They are either close to the Koldeid-controlled area or require passing through several relatively flat areas that are easy to monitor by drones. I think... we should immediately and completely abandon the original plan and switch to Route C. You see, it mainly travels along the edge of this ancient geological fault zone and the almost untouched, desolate mountainous area.”

Song Heping glanced at the route and said coldly, "I must remind you that this Route C means extremely complex terrain, full of gravel, steep slopes and dry ravines, which will be a huge test for the vehicle's suspension, tires and engine, and the risk of tire blowouts or even mechanical failures will increase dramatically; the navigation difficulty will increase exponentially, and the GPS signal will become worse in the canyon, and we will likely need to stop frequently and rely on compasses and maps for correction."

"Most importantly, the journey will be at least 80 kilometers longer, which means we'll need to consume more fuel, endure longer periods of exposure, and... potentially encounter unpredictable natural obstacles in complex terrain, such as landslides or impassable cliffs, leaving us in a dilemma. If we encounter the enemy, it will be an even greater disaster..."

Petrovsky stared at the C-shaped path on the screen, which twisted and turned like a dying earthworm, his brow furrowing deeply.

Of course he knew what that meant.

This was practically a high-stakes gamble with the fate of the entire squad and the mission.

They gambled that the vehicles could hold out, that the fuel would last until the destination, and that the enemy's search network wouldn't have time to close in while they were forced to slow down.

The carriage was deathly silent, save for the roar of the engine and the noise of the tires crushing gravel.

All eyes were on Petrovsky, awaiting his decision.

Should we continue along the relatively easy but potentially treacherous original route, or venture into that unknown, desolate land filled with natural dangers?

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)