Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1277 The Brutal Three Hours

Chapter 1277 The Brutal Three Hours
"Move into position! Prepare for battle!"

Jiang Feng's roar drowned out the initial gunshots.

The first wave of infantrymen from the 1515 armed force charged with howls under the cover of fire from pickup trucks.

They were equally insane, equally reckless with their lives.

"Fire!"

At Jiang Feng's command, all weapons still capable of firing in the town opened fire simultaneously.

Rifles, machine guns, RPGs...

It wove itself into a sparse yet deadly net of fire, crashing fiercely into the charging crowd.

The terrorists at the forefront fell like felled wheat, but those behind them immediately stepped over their fallen comrades and continued their charge.

The bullets struck the pickup truck, clanging and sparks flying.

A pickup truck attempted to force its way across the dry riverbed and drive directly into the town.

"RPG!"

Samir roared, his eyes red.

A militiaman carrying an R-7 rocket launcher suddenly stood up from behind a low wall, aimed, and fired!

call out--

boom!
The rocket hit the side of the pickup truck, but did not completely destroy it.

The pickup truck came to a stop at an angle. Although the machine gunner on board was dazed and confused by the shock, he still struggled to operate the heavy machine gun and fired wildly in the direction of the rocket launcher.

"Da da da da——"

The low wall was instantly sliced off by bullets, and the militiaman didn't even have time to scream before his upper body was almost completely destroyed.

"Son of a bitch!"

Jiang Feng turned the PKM's muzzle and fired a precise long burst, turning the machine gunner into a sieve.

But soon more pickup trucks and infantry surged forward.

The battle went straight into a fierce stalemate from the very beginning, without any chance to pause or gradually escalate.

Both sides were determined to fight to the death to kill the other, and to prevent the other from being annihilated. They went all out from the start, fighting for their lives without any hesitation.

On the outskirts of town, every house and every section of ruins was the subject of fierce fighting. Local residents who could find a place to hide in cellars had already done so, while those who couldn't hide in the innermost part of their houses, fearing they would become innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire.

Some of the 1515 militants have stormed some of the outer buildings and engaged in close combat with the militiamen who were holding out there.

The grenades exploded in the confined space with deafening force; the flashes of automatic weapons flickered in the darkening sky; the roars, screams, and dying groans of soldiers from both sides intertwined into a symphony of death.

The 1515 troops had an overwhelming numerical advantage, and they seemed completely unconcerned about casualties.

After the first wave was repelled, less than ten minutes later, more soldiers, supported by pickup trucks and old BMP-1 infantry fighting vehicles, launched a new attack.

Jiang Feng and Samir have now become firefighters, rushing to wherever the defense line is in danger.

Jiang Feng's PKM barrel was red-hot and he had to replace it with a spare barrel. His arm was numb from firing for a long time, and his uniform was covered with blood, whether his own or that of the enemy, he didn't know.

Samir's voice was completely hoarse from shouting, and he could only give orders through gestures and shoving.

Militia casualties are rising sharply.

The defense line was breached multiple times, but the reserves and officers fought back with their bare hands, bayonets, entrenching tools, and even fists.

The town's narrow streets and courtyards were piled high with corpses, and the flowing blood made the ground muddy.

Time seemed to freeze amidst the extremely fierce fighting, yet it also seemed to flow by swiftly.

Three hours passed.

The area controlled by the "Liberation Forces" has been compressed to a radius of less than 500 meters around the town center.

With fewer than 5,000 combat-ready personnel, over 1,000 were lost in three hours.

Jiang Feng leaned against a wall that had been partially destroyed by the bomb, panting heavily as he loaded the last bullets into his empty ammunition belt.

His face was cut open by shrapnel, and blood covered half of his cheek, but he was completely unaware of it.

Samir staggered over and collapsed next to him, panting, "Jiang... can't hold on... eight hours... it's too long..."

Jiang Feng raised his head and looked south, in the direction of Bai Yiji, which was also the direction Song Heping might come from.

In the distance, only the sounds of enemy gunfire and shouts of battle could be heard.

"He will come."

Jiang Feng's tone carried an undeniable conviction: "My old squad leader has never broken his promise."

He abruptly stood up, hoisted the loaded PKM onto his shoulder, and roared at the numb-eyed soldiers around him:

"Brothers! Every kill now is a bonus! For the fallen brothers, and for the sake of ourselves who can still breathe—"

He pulled the bolt, and the sound of a bullet being chambered could be clearly heard during the brief lull in the fighting.

"Fight to the end!"

The militiamen's enthusiasm was reignited, and they responded with hoarse shouts.

Just then, a series of muffled explosions suddenly came from outside the town!
Immediately afterwards, several faint white trails streaked across the sky, landing precisely in the area where the 1515 armed forces were assembled outside the town!

boom!
boom!
boom!
A huge fireball rose into the sky!

It's a tank cannon!

And multiple rocket launchers!
Upon hearing the explosion, Jiang Feng and Samir abruptly raised their heads, their desperate eyes instantly blazing with disbelief!

On the radio, the voice they had been waiting for finally came through:

"01 Calling Jiang Feng! We've arrived! Hold on, we're opening a passage from the west! Prepare to receive him during the breakout! Repeat, prepare to receive him during the breakout!"

Song Heping!
coming!

A deafening cheer erupted in the town of Kiri!

To the west of the town, two fully-equipped mercenary battalions, along with two thousand men from the Abuyu Brigade, formed a mixed force of nearly three thousand men.

After all, Baiji still needed to leave a thousand men to guard the area.

Leading this support force were several armored personnel carriers that had been modified beyond recognition, with various sizes of machine guns and even automatic grenade launchers welded onto them.

A long line of pickup trucks followed behind, with old DShK heavy machine guns, AGS grenade launchers, and even a few recoilless rifles mounted in their cargo beds.

The tires rolled over the soft sand that had been repeatedly tilled by artillery fire, and the dust they kicked up stretched for kilometers behind the convoy like a giant, yellowish-brown dragon.

Song Heping was sitting in the armored command vehicle in the middle of the convoy.

In front of him was a reinforced tactical tablet, the screen of which was divided into several sections. The most important section was displaying real-time images transmitted back by a high-altitude drone.

In the footage, the town of Kiri looks like a half-eaten cake, with black smoke billowing from multiple spots.

Outside the town, countless tiny black dots, like ants, were wriggling and surging wave after wave toward the few remaining areas inside the town that were still putting up a fight.

The muzzle flash was not conspicuous under the midday sun, but the flames from the explosions rose up from time to time, and you could almost feel the despair and intensity even through the screen.

Song Heping zoomed in on the footage of the western battlefield transmitted by the drone with his finger.

The militants in 1515 clearly believed that the area was a safe zone. Their attack formation was dense, and several pickup trucks with steel plates could even be seen lined up, relentlessly unleashing firepower into the town.

"They didn't expect us to arrive so quickly."

Song Heping sneered, "Fine, let's catch them off guard."

He activated the full-frequency communication, and his voice instantly resonated throughout every corner of the convoy:
"Attention all units, this is Song Heping. We will engage the enemy in five minutes. Artillery, keep a close watch on the assembly points and firing positions marked by the drones. Assault group, stay close to me and pierce their flank! Everyone, stay alert and show those lunatics what professionalism is!" The order was concise and brutal.

As the convoy deployed behind a slightly raised hill, the drone operator's voice came through the communication channel:
"The drone has arrived at its attack position. The enemy situation has been updated, and the priority target list has been sent."

"receive."

Song Heping responded, then switched channels, "Artillery Group, this is Death One, authorized to fire. Repeat, authorized to fire. Blow their shit out!"

The first to speak were not the rattling rifles in the soldiers' hands, but the various cannons hidden in the makeshift artillery positions in the rear.

Using drones to provide coordinates to guide artillery fire is a completely different tactic from the indiscriminate firing that the 1515 militants are accustomed to, which relies on sheer numbers to cover a large area.

High in the sky, several small quadcopter drones, modified by Dongda Huaqiangbei and painted in desert camouflage, hovered like ghosts at an altitude of thousands of meters.

Their rotor noise was perfectly masked by the gunfire on the ground.

This is Song Heping's trump card—the "Shadow" drone team.

This small team consists of many skilled operators of electronic devices and drones, and is the "eyes" that Song Heping has trained at great expense.

At this moment, next to a vehicle behind the attacking force, a member of the "Shadow" team, wearing noise-canceling headphones, was intently staring at the screen in front of him.

In the footage transmitted from the high-definition camera, every moving target on the sand below is clearly visible.

He could even see a bearded man waving an AK and urging his men to charge forward.

The drone operator's fingers flew across the touchpad, the crosshair firmly positioned behind a sand dune where a squad had just fired a mortar shell.

"Target B2, mortar position confirmed, coordinates updated, three-person operation, requesting firing support!"

His voice was steady, as if he were playing a highly realistic game.

The artillery command center immediately responded: "Received, B2 target, one test shot, set parameters... Fire!"

A few seconds later, a 100mm mortar shell pierced the sky with a piercing whistle and landed about fifty meters from the sand dune, exploding in a cloud of dust.

Without even blinking, the operator immediately corrected, "Test firing point confirmed! Fifty centimeters to the right, nearly ten meters. Coordinates corrected to XXX, YYY. Requesting salvo from the entire company!"

"Bullshot approved! One shot from the entire company, fire!"

Pass--

This time, at least six 100mm mortars roared simultaneously.

Mortar shells fly at a low speed and have a relatively high trajectory.

After a long time, the mortar position in the drone footage, which was preparing to fire a second shell, along with the three militants next to it and their pickup truck loaded with shells, was instantly engulfed by a huge cloud of dust.

The explosion triggered the ammunition on the pickup truck, causing an even more violent explosion.

The gunner and the cannon went up into the sky together, scattering petals everywhere like a shower of flowers...

"Target B2, clear."

The drone operator recorded the data expressionlessly, then switched to the next target: "High-value target detected, suspected command center, near a white pickup truck, at least five people..."

Same process, same precision.

"Target C4, command node, coordinates XXX, YYY, fire!"

"Approved! One test shot!"

"Hit! A corner of the building has collapsed! Target confirmed not completely inoperable, requesting coverage fire!"

"Full company, three rapid-fire rounds, fire!"

Boom boom boom!
The shells seemed to have eyes, hitting the pickup truck one after another with pinpoint accuracy.

In an instant, the pickup truck was reduced to a pile of smoking scrap metal in the explosion.

people?
It didn't even have a chance to scream before it exploded on the spot.

Another group of about twenty or thirty 1515 militants had just assembled in a depression and were preparing to launch a new attack under the command of a minor leader.

Before they could even spread out, a deadly whistling sound came from the sky.

call out--

Phew—!
At least four mortar shells fell, directly covering the depression.

The explosions were almost continuous, and the fire and smoke instantly enveloped the group.

The shrapnel swept across the area from every angle.

In an instant, severed limbs mixed with blood and internal organs flew everywhere, and screams were completely drowned out by the deafening explosion.

After the explosion, the depression looked as if it had been washed in blood, with dark red liquid soaking into the sand and soil, leaving only a few scattered, twitching, mangled bodies.

The militants of 1515 were completely stunned when their flank was attacked!

They were accustomed to chanting "Allahu Akbar," and with their fanatical enthusiasm and overwhelming numerical superiority, they swept through the enemy's defenses like a tidal wave.

They were used to their opponents lacking precision firepower and having to rely on heavy machine guns and limited mortars for interception.

But now, the attacks from the flanks are not only fierce, but also incredibly accurate!
The shells were like roll call, specifically targeting crowds, firing positions, and places where people who looked like leaders were located!
"Where are those demons?!"

"Where did the shells come from?!"

"Run! Run quickly!"

Chaos spread like a plague through the attacking forces of 1515.

Some people tried to hide behind the rocks, but from the drone's perspective, any gathering was impossible to conceal.

Some people were firing their rifles blindly into the sky like madmen, until they emptied their magazines, which served no purpose other than wasting bullets and attracting more attention.

Even worse, some started turning back and running, crashing into their comrades, just to get away from the deadly artillery fire.

"Extend the artillery fire! Assault teams, advance! Crush them!"

Seeing the opportunity, Song Heping issued another order.

The mercenary convoy, which had been waiting impatiently, roared like wolves that had smelled blood, and charged out from behind the high ground!
The first few armored vehicles, equipped with 12.7mm heavy machine guns on their roofs and 14.5mm anti-aircraft machine guns modified for direct fire, opened fire first!
Visible to the naked eye, the tracer bullet chains lashed out like scorching whips at the chaotic 1515 members who were running around in disarray.

A person hit by a bullet of this caliber will be instantly shattered!

The vehicles continued their charge, and the well-trained mercenaries used the vehicle-mounted cover to fire precise bursts with their automatic rifles.

Snapped!
Snapped!
Snapped!
Short, rhythmic gunshots are often accompanied by distant targets falling to the ground.

Their tactical maneuvers were so practiced they seemed instinctive: disembarking, finding cover, providing crossfire cover, advancing...

The entire process was seamless, efficient, and deadly.

The meticulously constructed western encirclement of 1515 was torn open with a huge gap by the storm of steel and fire.

The once-fierce attackers instantly became prey caught in a pincer movement, their morale completely collapsed, and their organized resistance quickly disintegrated into a widespread rout.

"Move into position! Prepare for battle!"

Jiang Feng's roar drowned out the initial gunshots, sounding particularly hoarse in the scorching midday air.

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(End of this chapter)