Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1161 Internal strife
This news was like a huge block of ice, instantly crashing into the hearts of every team member, almost freezing the already heavy atmosphere.

What losing satellite support means is clear to every veteran of modern warfare—they lose their "God's-eye view," unable to discern the real-time location and threat axis of drones overhead, unable to obtain information on the movement and deployment of enemy forces within tens or even hundreds of kilometers around them, and, more fatally, unable to call for support from any rear forces.

In this unfamiliar and dangerous place, surrounded by powerful enemies, this was almost tantamount to a death sentence, albeit with a reprieve.

The situation is extremely difficult.

Petrovsky's face instantly turned ashen.

Desperate situation!

This is a fucking dead end, where no one can help us!
The immense pressure weighed on his heart like a mountain.

"what!"

In the midst of this deathly silence and despair, a mocking laugh, full of sarcasm and ridicule, lashed out like a whip at the nerves of every SSO member.

The hunter, who was sitting on a rock nearby, carefully wiping the sniper rifle in his hand with a small piece of velvet cloth, raised his eyelids.

His face wore undisguised contempt. His gaze swept over the disheveled "Signal," then settled on Petrovsky, whose face was as black as the bottom of a pot. In his heavily accented Kazakh Russian, he spoke slowly:

"What did I tell you? Huh? You Russians, apart from the efficiency of your vodka production lines and the number of alcoholics who still barely maintain the 'glorious tradition' of our Soviet grandfathers, everything else, especially these sophisticated gadgets that require brainpower, is getting worse year by year! When did the great Soviet Red Empire ever get so easily messed up by this little bit of electronic interference, like a swarm of wasps whose nest has been raided, so dizzy and disoriented that they can't even contact the command center?"

These words were incredibly harsh, and they struck right at the most sensitive and complex wound in the hearts of Russians—their complex feelings about the Soviet era and their sense of loss about the present.

But what the hunter said was absolutely true, and the SSO members wanted to refute it but couldn't find any reason to do so.

The SSO team members, already under immense pressure due to their desperate situation, were instantly blown away!

The pent-up fear, exhaustion, and uncertainty about the future found an outlet at this moment.

"You son of a bitch! What did you say?!"

"You want to die? You Kazakh shepherd bastard!"

"Suka! If we hadn't been driving like crazy, you would have been roasted like a whole lamb by that 'Hellfire'!"

Several of the youngest team members, including the hot-tempered Volkov, suddenly jumped up from the ground, glaring at the hunter with eyes blazing with fury, and spewing out profanities like bullets.

Volkov took a large step forward, his nearly 1.9-meter-tall, imposing body like a wall, exuding a strong sense of physical oppression, almost touching the hunter's face.

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, as if a single spark could trigger a violent explosion.

Faced with the crowd's anger, the hunter not only did not back down, but instead stood up with a cold smile.

He wasn't very tall, but he met Volkov's almost fiery gaze without fear.

"What? Now that I've hit a nerve, all you can do is rage like a rutting camel?"

The hunter's tone was full of provocation.

"Besides waving your muscular arms and using brute force, what else can you Russian gentlemen who live off the legacy of the Soviet Union do? Even your own communications are being humiliated by the Americans. What face do you have to swagger around here?"

As a Kazakhstani, I have a complex and complicated history with Russia. All the former allied nations that were separated from the Soviet Union have a strange sense of hatred towards the old Soviet Union.

In this desperate situation, the latent discontent and regional antagonism are amplified to an extreme degree.

"court death!"

Volkov drew his fighting knife in a flash, the gleaming blade reflecting a cold light in the moonlight.

"enough!"

A sharp shout suddenly rang out, drowning out all the arguments and curses.

It wasn't Petrovsky who spoke, but Song Heping.

He had turned around without anyone noticing, his movements so fast that only a blur remained.

The muzzle of the HK416 assault rifle in his hand was already raised, the cold, dark muzzle not pointed at the provocative hunter, but directly at the SSO members who were out of control and about to fight!

Especially Volkov, who was at the very front!
The other SSO members also raised their guns and aimed them at Song Heping.

This scene stunned everyone; the air froze instantly.

"Put down your guns! Suka! Did you hear me!"

Petrovsky roared almost simultaneously with Song Heping's movement, stepping between his teammate and Song Heping's guns.

Although he was also burning with anger at the hunter's hurtful words and wanted to punch him himself, reason told him that Song Heping's approach, though brutal, was the fastest and most effective way to stop the infighting.

If a conflict breaks out now, the only result will be the annihilation of the entire army.

The SSO members were completely stunned by their captain's unprecedented rage and Song Heping's emotionless gun barrel, which seemed ready to pull the trigger at any moment.

Volkov's facial muscles twitched violently, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked, but in the end he gritted his teeth and slowly took a step back with extreme reluctance. The other team members also froze in place, not daring to move.

Song Heping's gaze swept over each SSO member, finally settling on the still defiant Hunter.

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority, each word striking deep into everyone's ears:
"Want to die? It's simple, just make a scene and you'll die."

His tone was as calm as if he were stating a fact, “If you don’t want to die, you’d better stuff your pathetic little bit of self-esteem back into your assholes! Cover it up tightly!”

He paused, then slowly lowered the gun.

"Look at the situation clearly! We're all in this together! Below us are the damn US Navy SEALs and Kold's forces, behind us are those 1515 gang of rabid dogs that eat people alive, and overhead are 'Reaper' drones watching us! Fight among your own people? You've got a death wish?"

His words were harsh and direct, but like a bucket of ice-cold water poured over everyone's heads, they instantly extinguished the anger that had almost detonated explosives. The immense pressure of being in such dire straits made everyone realize that any form of internal division was the most foolish and quickest way to their demise.

Petrovsky took several deep breaths to forcefully suppress his surging anger and rage. He turned to his team members, his voice low but carrying an undeniable command: "Did you all hear what Song said? Are you deaf? Quit your tempers! What time is it now? Huh?! Song is right, anyone who fights amongst themselves is everyone's enemy! Enforce discipline!"

He practically shouted his last sentence.

The SSO members looked at each other, and eventually all silently lowered their heads or turned around to organize their equipment, demonstrating their obedience through their actions.

Volkov glared at the hunter, spat, and then sat back down in silence.

Petrovsky then turned to Song Heping: "I'm sorry, I didn't manage my men well. Now... you see the situation, what do we do?"

He threw the biggest challenge back to Song Heping.

Surprisingly, Song Heping smiled.

"How to do?"

He gave a soft hum, with a peculiar, teasing tone.

"This is a good thing, no need to do anything!"

This answer stunned everyone, even Petrovsky looked bewildered and incredulous, thinking he had misheard.

"Good...good news?"

Petrovsky stammered, repeating doubtfully, "Losing satellite communication, being completely electronically suppressed, we're deaf and blind... how the hell can this be a good thing?!"

He almost swore again.

"Of course it's a good thing."

Song Heping found a relatively flat rock to sit on, slowly pulled out the water bag's suction tube, took a sip of water, and even said in a tone that seemed to say, "How come you guys can't even figure this out?"

"first--"

He held up his index finger. "This proves that there are indeed American electronic reconnaissance aircraft lurking over this airspace, and they are working at high intensity, around the clock. They are not only interfering with us, but also like hunting dogs, with their ears perked up, trying to capture any faint electronic signals that we might leak—whether it's satellite phones, individual radios, or even sidelobe signals leaked from GPS receivers—and then precisely pinpoint our location, sending people to pin us to the map."

He paused, looking at the mixed expressions of confusion and "what kind of good thing is this?" on everyone's faces, and continued to explain in a tone as if he were lecturing new recruits:

"Brothers, use your brains. Why did we risk our lives to get into these mountains? Was it really just to find a cave to hide in and become cowards?"

He answered his own question, “No! It’s to muddy the waters! The muddier the waters, the better! Let the Americans, the Kolds, and those hyenas from 1515 who are drawn by the smell of blood collide in these mountains and tear each other apart! The more chaotic their fighting, the more opportunities we have to slip away in the chaos and escape! So, being ‘tracked’ by the Americans, making them think they have our movements, is the most important part of our plan! It’s the bait we deliberately threw out!”

As he spoke, he took out a tactical tablet and pointed precisely at an area on the map that was surrounded by countless dense contour lines, resembling the core of a maze.

“Manier Canyon Area”.

Song Heping's voice lowered, carrying calmness and confidence.

"Here, an 80-square-kilometer death maze, with seven or eight canyons running north-south and intersecting east-west, it's damn complicated enough. This is the gladiatorial arena we've carefully chosen for our pursuers. It may not be their final resting place, but it's definitely the perfect stage for them to wear each other down."

"As long as we calculate the distance, speed of movement, and approximate direction between ourselves, the 1515 pursuers behind us, and the US special forces flanking us from the side, and seize that crucial moment, we can, like the most skillful shepherd, lead both packs of wolves into this Mannier maze."

He paused for a moment, then posed a crucial question.

"Imagine, on a night with extremely poor visibility, in a complex canyon terrain where echolocation can confuse the enemy, several highly tense, well-equipped armed forces, each believing the other to be prey, suddenly collide head-on at a corner or a pass... What do you think will happen? They don't have an 'internal communication channel' like we do that can instantly confirm identities."

Images flashed through the team members' minds instantly—flames from gun barrels in the darkness, a sudden firefight triggered by a misjudgment…

In the darkness, in an unfamiliar environment, with unclear information, multiple forces at play...

Any small misunderstanding could ignite an uncontrollable brawl.

"Think about it more deeply."

Song Heping added, his tone carrying a hint of relief mixed with lingering fear.

"If it weren't for that damn electronic reconnaissance plane 'acting' for us from the sky, if we wanted the Americans to bite, we'd have to take risks every now and then, find an unshielded hilltop, deliberately turn on the radio to show our faces, or let the satellite phone flash for a moment. That would be real suicide, gambling that the 'Reaper' drone operator would fall asleep, or that the missile would just jam! Who can guarantee that they'll always have the same good luck as they did in the Gobi Desert and dodge 'Hellfire'?"

At this point, everyone suddenly understood!
The disruption that caused them to lose contact was not a dead end; on the contrary, it made their risky move of "luring the enemy in deep and using them to devour the tiger" go more smoothly and safely!
This is practically turning the enemy's advantage into an advantage for our own tactics!

"so……"

Song Heping stood up abruptly and put away the tablet.

"Everyone, shut down all electronic devices that might actively transmit signals—personal radios, satellite phones, GPS positioning modules, even Bluetooth-enabled watches. Anything that can emit a wireless signal, disconnect the power and remove the batteries! Without my order, no one is allowed to turn anything on before reaching the designated location! From now on, we are 'silent bait'! Relying solely on maps, compasses, and our own two legs, we will follow the predetermined route and escort every 'guest' from behind and the sides into the super VIP suite of Mannier Canyon!"

After saying that, he took out the satellite phone and, in front of everyone, removed the battery without hesitation.

Next, he turned off the power to the individual radio and even removed the battery from the GPS module.

Petrovsky took a deep breath and, without any hesitation, immediately did as instructed.

The hunter gave Song Heping a deep look, then silently turned off his satellite phone and radio.

Other team members, including Volkov who was still furious, also took action.

For a moment, a faint "beep" sound indicating shutdown and the soft sound of the battery compartment cover opening and closing rang out from the rock depression.

When the indicator light on the last piece of equipment went out, the entire team seemed to have undergone a transformation, truly and completely merging into the unchanging silence and darkness of the Gunai Mountains.

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)