Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1158 The Eye of Death
Afternoon, dusk.

Located in northeastern Syria, about 30 kilometers west of Hasakah.

In the vast yellow wasteland, a convoy of more than twenty vehicles of various types kicked up clouds of yellow dust as it sped from north to south.

The sunlight shone brightly on the open Gobi Desert, making the sand reflect a golden luster.

Inside one of the Oshkosh L-ATV light tactical vehicles in the convoy, Lieutenant Ronsen leaned back in his seat, squinting at the monotonous, drowsy scenery rushing past the window.

The bulletproof glass windows blocked out most of the outside noise, leaving only the deep, steady roar of the engine in your ears.

He had just ended a less-than-pleasant radio call with the Kold's liaison officer, a half-hour wrangling over the distribution of supplies that had left him somewhat irritated.

As the commander of a SEAL team detachment stationed in the Kold's-controlled area, responsible for guidance and coordination operations, this endless coordination with local armed forces sometimes takes more time and energy than facing the enemy head-on.

Especially these guys, who in his eyes were no different from "barbarians," were in a primitive state in terms of both individual combat skills and tactics.

Ronsen always felt that he would be dragged down by these guys sooner or later.

He hates it here.

I also hate these guys.

These kinds of chores were originally the work of the Green Hats, but the higher-ups sent them instead.

It's a disaster!
Just as he was grumbling to himself, the encrypted channel of the car radio suddenly emitted a series of rapid beeps.

The oppressive atmosphere inside the car was completely broken.

Ronson perked up and grabbed the microphone: "This is 'Razor 01,' please speak."

"Razor 01, this is the Thunder's frontline command center, I'm James."

The familiar voice of my superior came through the earpiece, his tone serious and rapid.

“Listen, Ronson, we have a kill. Five minutes ago, the SkyEye satellite detected a high-speed convoy about 12 kilometers east of the Gunai Mountains. It consists of three Russian-made Typhoon-class ambush protected vehicles, and their characteristics closely match the SSO team we’ve been tracking.”

Langsen sat up straight instantly, all his fatigue vanishing.

Russians, haha, it really is them!

I enjoy dealing with these Russians the most.

"Are you sure it's those 'polar bears'?"

"It's basically confirmed. Their direction of travel is clear; it seems they want to hide in the Gunai Mountains. The terrain there is complex, and once they get in, it will be difficult to dig them out. I guess they also know their situation is bad and want to escape."

Major James spoke faster.

"The Iraqi airbase has urgently dispatched an MQ-9 Reaper drone that was on standby in the nearby airspace to the area. It is expected to arrive within ten minutes and conduct continuous reconnaissance. Your mission is to immediately lead your squad and the cooperating Kold'd assault company to the eastern outskirts of the Gunai Mountains as quickly as possible to intercept and confirm the target. Destroy it if necessary. Under no circumstances should they be allowed to establish a foothold in the mountains or make contact with any local forces."

"Understood, sir! Intercept the SSO team and prevent them from entering the Gunai Mountains."

Langsen repeated the instructions, his brain working at lightning speed, and the geographical data of the Gunai Mountains instantly appeared in his mind.

"Mission priority is highest. Authorize the use of all necessary means. Keep the channel open. 'Death' will provide you with live footage. The Air Force will also use force to intercept this convoy. Perhaps when you arrive, you will only need to clean up the bodies. Good luck, Razor 01."

"Received, Thunder. Razor01 is ending the call."

Langsen immediately switched to the convoy's internal communication channel, his voice firm and decisive: "All units, take note! Immediately terminate the original patrol route. The entire convoy is to turn around and head northeast. Target: the eastern edge of the Gunai Mountains. System coordinates have been updated. Proceed at top speed immediately! Repeat, top speed!"

Once the order was given, the convoy, which had been speeding south, seemed to be controlled by an invisible hand, drawing a huge arc of dust across the vast Gobi Desert. Led by the lead vehicle, all the other vehicles roared to life and turned northeast.

The rising yellow dust grew thicker and thicker, almost swallowing the convoy whole.

Ronson grabbed the tactical tablet, pulled up the electronic map, and quickly drew a circle around the location of the Gunai Mountains with his finger, while yelling at the driver, "Faster! Faster! We need to stop those Russians before they hide in the mountains!"

……

At almost the same time, about sixty kilometers south of the Gunai Mountains.

A large convoy was parked at a crossroads in the gravelly Gobi hills.

The vehicles were a mixed bag, mainly pickup trucks equipped with heavy machine guns or recoilless rifles, interspersed with a few slightly dilapidated military trucks.

The vehicle was packed with armed men dressed in motley clothing, most of whom wore headscarves and carried various automatic weapons.

They belonged to the eastern branch of the 1515 Armed Seria, and their leader was Abu Omar, who was known for his cruelty and fanaticism.

Omar stood beside his iconic Toyota Hilux pickup truck, which was equipped with a DShK heavy machine gun. His rough fingers rubbed the sling of the AK-47 rifle hanging on his chest, his brow furrowed as he stared ahead.

A thin but unusually agile man stood up from the ground and jogged back to Omar's car.

He is the best tracker in the team, Khalid.

"Emir (meaning leader in Arabic)."

Khalid turned around and pointed to the marks on the ground not far away, reporting.

"It's confirmed. About an hour ago, three heavy armored vehicles passed through here. The tire tracks were deep and wide-spaced, exactly the same as those left by the group that found and killed our surveillance team at the pass. They headed north."

Omar's face darkened. He turned around, took a crumpled military map from his deputy, and spread it on the hood.

Rough fingers traced across the map; the southern part of Hasakah province was a vast expanse of flat desert, with almost no natural defenses and nowhere to hide.

His finger finally stopped at the Gunai Mountains in the north.

"To the north... Mount Gunai."

Omar muttered to himself, then snorted coldly, "That's right, only there can hide these rats."

The deputy, a middle-aged man with a large beard, stood beside him, his face filled with worry: "Emir, further north in the Gunai Mountains lies the territory controlled by the Kold'd heretics. Although it's considered a buffer zone, we've had constant conflicts with them over the past year. With such a large army pressing in now, what if…?"

"What?!"

Omar abruptly interrupted him, his eyes flashing with malice. "Khords? A bunch of pathetic worms living off the charity of the Americans! They dare call themselves warriors? The Qunai Mountains have never been their territory! God above, this land belongs to the Caliphate! It belongs to us!"

He spoke with spittle flying, making no attempt to conceal his contempt for the Kolds.

In the eyes of an extreme ideological armed group like 1515, all those who are not of their race are heretics, and the Kolds are also targets for elimination.

“But our target is that Russian squad. If we clash with the Kolds, it might distract us…” the deputy tried to persuade him again.

"enough!"

Omar waved his hand roughly, "Find that Russian squad, get what they might be carrying, hang their bodies or behead them. That's how you make a name for yourself, that's the top priority! If the Kolds dare to stop us, send them to hellfire with them!"

He ignored his deputy's concerns and directly ordered the communications officer: "Connect me to the Supreme Leader Bakdadi's command post!"

After a brief wait, the radio connection was established.

Omar reported the situation and his assessment at top speed, emphasizing that a "highly valuable target" had been discovered, and requested reinforcements.

On the other end of the radio, Bakhdadi's voice was calm and authoritative: "Abu Omar, my brother, your judgment is correct. The warriors of Allah are fearless. I will immediately order all available forces in Hasakah province, at least two thousand warriors, to assemble at the Gunai Mountains as quickly as possible and be under your command. Go ahead and do it, let the infidels see the sharpness of the sword of Allah!" Having received the Supreme Leader's affirmation and the promise of reinforcements, Omar felt reassured, a ferocious smile spreading across his face.

He jumped into the car, drew his pistol from his waist, and fired a shot into the sky, attracting the attention of all his men.

"Warriors of Allah!"

He roared hoarsely, "The prey is ahead! To the north, Mount Gunai! Follow me, catch them, and wash away the shame of our fallen brothers with their blood! For the Caliphate!"

"Allahu Akbar!" More than four hundred militants shouted in unison, their voices echoing across the desolate Gobi Desert.

Engines roared to life, emitting a piercing din. The massive, chaotic convoy, like a desert behemoth awakening, kicked up even more dust as it hurtled madly toward the Gunai Mountains to the north.

It is located a dozen kilometers east of the Gunaishan area.

Three camouflaged Typhoon-K ambush protected vehicles were speeding across the undulating Gobi Desert at over 70 kilometers per hour.

The massive vehicle lurched and jolted, kicking up dust that left three long trails of dirt behind it.

Song Heping gripped the handrail inside the carriage tightly, his body swaying with the vehicle's bumps.

The atmosphere inside the car remained tense. After all, before entering the Gunai Mountains, driving across the vast Gobi Desert would make them an easy target.

Everyone knew that being discovered was only a matter of time.

Suddenly, Alexei, the SSO member in charge of electronic reconnaissance, spoke over the radio, his voice tinged with tension:
"Warning! Airborne radar signal detected... It's a drone! Altitude approximately 5000 meters, southeast orientation, speed... very fast! It's rapidly approaching us!"

"Suka! We've been discovered after all!"

Petrovsky stood up reflexively, then climbed out from under the roof, poked half his body out, and picked up his binoculars to look in the direction Alexei was reporting.

Through the high-powered telescope's field of view, against the backdrop of a clear blue sky, a tiny, cross-shaped black dot moves at a steady yet deadly pace, appearing and disappearing beneath the thin, high-altitude clouds.

Petrovsky was very familiar with that unique airfoil and tail structure.

"Suka is the American's 'Grim Reaper'!"

He retreated back into the car, his face ashen as if he were constipated, and ordered that the order be immediately relayed to everyone via the in-car communication system.

"Attention all personnel! We've been targeted by 'Death'! High alert! All vehicles, accelerate and get into the Gunai Mountains as quickly as possible!"

"Damn it! The Americans found us after all!"

As he cursed, machine gunner Volkov leaned out from the machine gun muzzle on the roof of the vehicle, immediately inspected the large-caliber machine gun covered in sand and dust, released the safety, chambered a bullet, and turned the gun to aim at the drone high in the sky.

Of course, he also knew that doing so was unnecessary.

Using a 12.7mm machine gun as an anti-aircraft weapon is barely better than nothing; it's practically useless.

"It seems our whereabouts have been exposed."

Demolition expert Maxim spat and began quickly checking the equipment around him, especially the sensitive explosives inside the vehicle.

If hit by a drone's Hellfire missile, these explosives would undoubtedly be the ones sending them to their deaths.

The atmosphere inside the car instantly tensed up, like a fully drawn bowstring.

Everyone knows what being targeted by the "Death" drone means—it's a tireless eye of death hovering thousands of meters in the air, carrying Hellfire missiles that can fall from the sky at supersonic speeds without you even noticing.

Song Heping took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

This wasn't the first time I'd dealt with the Death Drone.

That thing is really hard to deal with. No matter what kind of special forces soldier or terrorist leader you are, it's a matter of one shot, or two if necessary.

Several times I've narrowly escaped death from this thing by sheer luck.

I wonder how my luck will be this time.

If it's good, then it's alright.

If it’s not good…

Attending a banquet...

He immediately adjusted his breathing and looked into the distance.

There, the dark blue-green outline of the Gunai Mountains was already faintly visible; it was their only way to survive.

"Stay calm, observe the ground carefully, and look for undulating terrain that you can utilize."

Song Heping pointed to the rolling sand dunes on the right, each ten or twenty meters high, and said in fluent Russian in a deep voice, "Keep close to those hills, go through the gullies, and kick up as much dust as you can. The mountains are just ahead. Hang in there, and we have a chance to survive."

Petrovsky glanced at Song Heping, nodded slightly, and added, "Did you all hear Mr. Song's orders?! Open your eyes! It's time for us to race against death!"

Thousands of meters above the ground.

The MQ-9 Reaper drone flies smoothly at a cruising altitude of about 5000 meters, like an elegant and ruthless hunter.

With a wingspan of 20 meters and a fuselage length of 11 meters, it uses a turboprop engine and has a flight endurance of more than 24 hours.

At this moment, its MTS-B multi-spectral targeting system under its fuselage, including high-definition white light, infrared thermal imaging, and laser rangefinder/designator modules, is firmly locked onto the three Typhoon armored vehicles that are frantically fleeing across the Gobi Desert below.

The clear, real-time footage was instantly transmitted to the U.S. Joint Air Operations Center (CAOC) in Iligo via an encrypted data link.

On the huge display screen, the dust kicked up by the three "Typhoon" trucks was clearly visible.

The operator skillfully adjusted the focus, magnifying the image and revealing the distinctive features of the Russian-made armored vehicle.

"Command center, this is 'Death' 1-1."

The drone operator calmly reported, "Target confirmed. Three Russian-made Typhoon ambush protected vehicles are moving toward the Gunai Mountains at a speed of approximately 85 kilometers per hour. Requesting further instructions."

The CAOC duty commander stared at the large screen, his face expressionless.

Based on the established rules of engagement and the previous orders to intercept this Russian squad, he did not hesitate.

"Death 1-1, target confirmed as high-value hostile unit, authorized to use weapon. Repeat, authorized to use weapon. Eliminate them."

"Death 1-1 received. Authorization to use weapons. Prepare for attack."

Inside the control station, the operator pushed the joystick, and the "Reaper" drone began to descend and enter its attack path.

The weapons control officer then skillfully began operating the interface, powering on the AGM-114 Hellfire missiles mounted on the underwing pylons and inputting target data.

"Target locked...Prepare for launch."

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(End of this chapter)