Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1166 The Art of Tracking

Late at night, the Mannier Valley region was shrouded in a deathly silence, around 2 a.m.

A crescent moon hung in the sky, casting its pale light, yet it could not penetrate the deep shadows in the valley.

A cold wind swept across the rocky ridge, emitting a low, mournful wail, adding a touch of desolation to the night.

Song Heping and the hunter are staging a meticulously planned "escape" in this rugged and treacherous land shrouded in darkness.

Using the eerie green vision provided by their night vision goggles, every step they took revealed a sense of meticulously calculated "rush."

This is not a blind rush, but a deliberate act of attraction, a high-stakes gamble with oneself as bait.

The "escape route" was meticulously planned by Song Heping long ago.

The winding bends of the valley offered the possibility of instantly escaping the pursuers' sight. The severely weathered rock ridges cast twisted and menacing shadows under the moonlight, providing cover for the two men, but also leaving scratches that were difficult to completely erase; constantly guiding the relentlessly pursuing American special operations team and the Kold'd people behind them.

Both men put on the ghillie suits they had prepared in their backpacks. These suits could block most infrared radiation, and their body temperature remained high due to the strenuous exercise. This was very dangerous under the infrared detection of drones, and it was a signal they needed to carefully conceal.

"Hunter, three o'clock, that scree slope."

Song Heping's voice was deep and steady. Even while running at full speed, he controlled his breathing rhythm very well, showing amazing physical strength and lung capacity.

His gaze, penetrating the four-eye night vision goggles, sharply scanned the gloomy green world ahead and to the sides. His brain, like a high-speed computer, processed the terrain, wind direction, the pursuers' positions, and... how to leave the perfect "gift".

This is a technical job.

They had to avoid being seen by their pursuers while also managing to shake them off completely.

The hunter didn't respond, he just nodded.

Years of fighting side by side have made the two of them understand each other perfectly.

That scree slope had a gradient of over sixty degrees and was covered with loose rock fragments of varying sizes.

For snipers seeking stealth, this is an absolute no-go zone; every step they take will create a sound that travels far in the silent night and leave an indelible mark.

But at this moment, for bait that needs to be "seen" and "tracked" occasionally, this is undoubtedly the perfect signpost to its destination.

The two exerted their strength almost simultaneously, pushing off with their feet, and "rushed" up the scree slope.

The tactical boots pounded underfoot, creating a jarring sound in the still of the night. Countless pebbles tumbled, leaped, and collided along the steep slope, forming a clear, moving trail, like a striking arrow drawn on a gray canvas.

"The tracks are obvious! They went up the scree slope on the east side! They just left not long ago!"

Soon after, the first scout from the "Razor" squad to track down the trail discovered the almost blatant presence and immediately reported it to Captain Ronson via his personal radio.

He crouched at the bottom of the slope, using his panoramic night vision goggles to warn of possible sniper shots as he cautiously raised his gun and looked around.

Captain Ronson quickly followed, kneeling on one knee on the cold rock. He lightly brushed his tactical glove across a piece of shale, freshly crushed by the sole of his boot and still damp with night dew, before looking up at the top of the slope, where a wisp of dust seemed to linger.

"They seemed to be in a hurry... but the marks they left were a little too 'generous'..."

A hint of professional unease flashed through his mind. As a veteran who had experienced numerous hunting and counter-hunting missions, he instinctively sensed something amiss—the enemy's escape seemed to carry a guiding connotation.

However, Major James's unequivocal orders over the radio and his deep-seated desire to complete the mission quickly overwhelmed any doubts he might have.

Moreover, he had more than two hundred soldiers from the Kolde Company following him.

In terms of troop strength, our side has an absolute advantage over the enemy.

Moreover, there are drones assisting from the sky.

Even if there's only a little risk, it's worth taking.

"Continue tracking! Maintain maximum vigilance! Group A on the left flank, Group B on the right flank, advance with cross-cover! Watch out for booby traps and flank ambushes! They seem to be deliberately leading us..." He decisively issued the order.

The "Razor" squad immediately sprang into action, operating like a sophisticated killing machine.

The six-man team instantly split into two three-man tactical formations and advanced upwards along the relatively stable areas on both sides of the scree slope with skillful alternating cover maneuvers.

Their movements were stealthy, aided by night vision goggles, with gun barrels constantly moving with their line of sight, pointing at every possible threat.

Meanwhile, in the sky, the silent Grim Reaper—the Reaper-2 drone—was hovering at an altitude of 15,000 feet.

Its high-resolution photoelectric sphere and infrared sensor lock onto this area like the eye of God.

The terminal screen on Ronsen's arm displays real-time thermal and low-light enhanced images transmitted by the drone, contrasting every undulation of the terrain ahead, every rock, and any possible remaining traces.

"Command, 'Reaper-2' reports: The target continues to move northwest into the heart of the Mannier Valley at a speed of approximately seven kilometers per hour. No signs of support personnel or pre-established positions have been detected. The thermal contrast is clear at night, but the terrain is severely obstructing the view, and the exposure time is too short to effectively lock onto and attack the target."

In the rear command center, the drone operator's calm voice rang out over the channel.

Major James, seated in his command chair, stared at the two heat source signals on the large screen that stood out against the cold background, representing Song Heping and the Hunter. A cold smile, as if he had everything under control, curled at the corner of his mouth.

"Trying to shake us off under the cover of night and in the mountains? How naive! Ronson, keep a close watch on them! Koldren, immediately accelerate your flanking maneuvers from both sides, close them off like pincers, compress their space, and force them into a corner!"

He was unaware that the two heat sources in the image were actually Song Heping and his mercenary buddies.

He still believed that his current opponent was a Russian military special forces team.

If James had known it was Song Heping, he might have been more cautious.

Unfortunately, there are no "what ifs" on the battlefield.

As James gave the order, a large number of local Kold's armed men, like a flock of sheep being driven, began to shout and move faster along the ridgeline on both sides.

Although their training level and discipline cannot compare with the "Razor" squad, they are familiar with every blade of grass and tree here, and their large numbers make them like a huge and rough net, working in conjunction with the sharp spear of "Razor" to try to completely ensnare their prey.

The pressure increased exponentially in an instant.

"Whoosh-bang!"

A stray bullet came from an unknown direction and struck a weathered limestone rock to the hunter's side.

The bullet sprayed a string of sparks and stone chips, then disappeared into the darkness in the distance with a sharp, distorted whistling sound.

The hunter didn't even lower his head; his body made a slight, natural evasive maneuver as he ran, his steps perfectly steady.

He immediately reported to Song Heping, who was not far away: "Kold's men are on the left ridge, about 400 meters away, about a platoon, with light machine guns. Their night vision equipment is so-so."

"Ignore them. Keep the pace."

Song Heping's tone remained completely unchanged, as if the whistling bullets were merely annoying flying insects in the night.

“If I’m not mistaken, Major Petrovsky’s party should have already started. We can’t let our ‘guest’ miss the main course.”

As if to confirm his words, a muffled explosion could be faintly heard from the east side of the Mannier Valley, interspersed with the faint roar of machine gun fire.

Song Heping and the hunter's "escape" route began to point more clearly to their final destination—the central area of ​​the Mannier Valley, an ancient basin carefully selected by Petrovsky's team, filled with huge weathered rock pillars and deep natural caves.

That will be the climax of this drama of death.

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)