Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 881 High-Altitude Interception
in the valley.

Ross felt like his lungs were on fire.

Each breath felt like swallowing a scalding hot lump of coal, and the AN/PRC-163 tactical radio on his back felt like a red-hot branding iron, rubbing against his tactical vest, which was already soaked with sweat.

A piercing pain shot through my right leg—seconds earlier, a 7.62mm bullet had pierced through it, taking away a fist-sized chunk of flesh.

"Ten meters to go"

He gritted his teeth and dragged his injured leg through the rubble.

Bullets kept whizzing past him, chiseling sparks from the rocks.

He knew perfectly well that he had become the primary target of the entire "Musician" defense mercenary group.

A bullet suddenly struck his left shoulder, and Ross staggered, but miraculously did not fall.

He glanced down at the wound; blood was gushing from the edge of the bulletproof plate. The ceramic armor plate had already stopped at least three bullets, but now, like himself, it had reached its limit.

"Rose! Hurry!"

The shouts of my comrades came from behind me, which were then drowned out by a burst of gunfire.

Rose knew without turning around that his brothers, with whom he spent every day, were risking their lives to buy him those last ten seconds.

He took a deep breath, used all his strength to lunge forward, and finally his hands gripped the rough surface of the granite.

"I'm up there! I'm up there!"

Ross shouted into the radio, his voice hoarse from blood loss.

Song Heping's eyes sharpened as he stood atop the cliff.

"Focus fire on that rock!"

He gave the order into the microphone.

"Stop him from sending the signal at all costs!"

In an instant, at least six rifles simultaneously turned their muzzles.

Bullets rained down on the granite surface, sending shards and sparks flying everywhere.

Ross huddled on the back of one side of the rock, clinging to it like a lizard, his hands trembling as he removed the radio from his back.

His fingers were stained with blood, but his rigorous training still allowed him to remain as steady as a rock when operating the equipment.

"Mayday! Mayday! This is the Green Berets' Seventh Task Force, 'Raven' Squad."

Ross's voice stood out clearly amidst the gunfire.

"Coordinates XX°XX'N, XX°XX'E. Requesting emergency air support. Repeat, requesting emergency."

puff!puff!puff!
Three bullets hit his back almost simultaneously.

The first shot pierced the right lung, the second shot broke the spine, and the third shot hit the back of the heart directly.

Ross's body shuddered violently, and blood spurted from his mouth, splattering onto the radio's display screen.

But incredibly, his fingers were still moving.

Using muscle memory, he completed the final frequency adjustment and transmission procedure.

The green indicator light on the radio lit up—the signal had been transmitted.

"Task Complete"

A slight smile appeared on Ross's lips as he slowly slid down beside the rocks. At least fifteen bullet holes were scattered across his torso and limbs, and blood pooled beneath him, forming a dark red lake.

Song Heping put down his binoculars, his face ashen.

“The signal has been sent,” he said over the radio. “Execute Plan B.”

Meanwhile, at the Usera Air Base.

The piercing alarm blared throughout the entire flight squadron.

The two pilots—Major Anderson and Captain Williams—rushed to the tarmac at top speed.

Ground crew had completed the warm-up of the F-15E Strike Eagle fighter jet, and the two F100-PW-229 engines roared deafeningly.

"We have received the distress signal from Green Berets," the lead pilot, Anderson, said to the control tower while fastening his seatbelt. "Heading 145, full speed ahead."

Two fighter jets accelerated down the runway, several small diameter bombs (SDMs) and two JDAM precision-guided bombs gleaming in the morning light beneath their wings.

With the afterburner activated, the fighter jet soared into the sky at a near-vertical angle.

“Estimated arrival time: 18 minutes.” Williams checked the tactics display. “Hopefully they can hold out until then.”

Soon, two Strike Eagles took off rapidly into the morning light, soaring into the sky.

Minutes later, just as the F-15E formation approached the border, the radar warning receiver in the cockpit suddenly emitted a sharp alarm.

"Warning! Warning! Ground fire control radar has locked on!"

A synthesized female voice from the electronic warfare system reported urgently.

Type identification: Air defense system!

Anderson glanced at the ground instinctively.

I could vaguely see several long white smoke trails rising from the ground.

He reacted immediately: "Deploy chaff! Activate electronic countermeasures! Rapidly ascend to 30,000 feet!"

Hundreds of aluminum-coated fiberglass foil strips were released from the tail of the fighter jet, forming a silver cloud in the sunlight.

At the same time, the AN/ALQ-135 electronic countermeasures system began operating at full power, transmitting jamming signals to the ground.

This is a fully automated, in-flight electronic warfare system that can manage and defeat multiple threats simultaneously, prioritizing and centrally handling the nearest incoming dangers. It uses a new PowerPC system with significantly improved processing speed and storage instead of a multiprocessor. Originally developed for the U.S. Air Force, it is currently equipped on all F-15 fighter jets of the U.S. Air Force and the Royal Air Force of Camel Nation.

"Missile launch! Repeat, missile launch!" Williams shouted. "Four missiles launched, azimuth 275!"

The Ferrari on the ground kept its eyes glued to the radar screen.

As an air defense expert at "Musician" Defense, he knew very well what kind of adversary he was facing.

The SAM-6's "Flush" radar had locked onto the target, but modern fighter jets' electronic countermeasures capabilities far surpassed this old Soviet-era system.

He knew very well that these SAM-6 missiles could only serve a jamming purpose, and the chance of shooting down the two F-15Es was probably no more than 10%.

"Prepare to relocate," Ferrari ordered over the radio. "The launch vehicle will immediately evacuate from its current position. The radar vehicle will continue to lock on for three minutes, then withdraw!"

Four 3M9 missiles, trailing orange-red plumes of flame, soared into the sky, but in the complex electronic jamming environment, their semi-active radar seekers quickly lost their targets.

Two missiles detonated prematurely due to the lure of the chaff cloud, while the other two self-destructed due to the interruption of guidance signals.

"Missile threat averted." Lead pilot Anderson breathed a sigh of relief. "But we need to replan our flight path; they seem to have deployed air defense systems here." "So we're not going to attack their ground launchers?"

The wingman asked a question.

"Attack them, and we'll waste ammunition. Then how will we attack those guys who're besieging the Green Berets?!"

"That air defense position is in the same direction as the distress signal source, and it's a necessary flight path, which means..."

“This means our Green Berets are in big trouble,” Anderson interrupted, adjusting the communication frequency. “Command, this is ‘Death 01,’ requesting authorization for cross-border strikes.”

Meanwhile, in the canyon, Song Heping had already received Ferrari's report.

"The anti-aircraft missiles missed, but they successfully bought them time."

He put down the radio, his face grave. "The F-15Es will arrive in ten minutes at most."

Song Heping nodded, his gaze sweeping across the battlefield in the direction of the mountain road.

The battle is nearing its end.

everything is over.

There were only sporadic, isolated gunshots.

They all disappeared soon after.

"headmaster."

The platoon leader of the special operations platoon came to report.

"The Green Berets are all done for; I haven't seen any retaliation."

"Enter slowly, clean up the battlefield, and retreat immediately once you're sure everyone is dead. We only have less than ten minutes."

"Yes! Principal!"

In the valley, Jason, leaning against the Hummer, felt like his whole body was riddled with bullet holes, like a deflated water bag, gushing blood.

The gunfire has stopped.

Look around.

All my brothers are dead.

He heard footsteps and slowly turned his head.

Several blurry figures slowly approached.

He wanted to see more clearly, but due to excessive blood loss, his vision was blurred.

He wanted to find a gun.

He found his assault rifle lying two meters away.

He tried to struggle over to grab the gun, but found that he couldn't even move his position, let alone grab the gun.

After several attempts, he finally gave up.

"Jansen?"

A dark figure walked up to him and stood in front of him.

Jason looked up and saw it clearly this time.

That's right.

It was the Chinese man I had seen in intelligence briefings many times—Song.

"Song..."

Jason suddenly smiled and quietly reached for the M67 grenade at his waist with his right hand.

"Do you know the White House has issued a 'death warrant' for you? Even if I die here today..."

He wanted to distract Song Heping with words.

Then we can all perish together...

boom!
Song Heping didn't give him a chance and shot him.

The bullet precisely severed Jason's wrist.

The severed hand, still attached to a grenade with the pin still in place, fell onto the sand, its fingers still twitching reflexively.

"I will record your deaths and send the footage to the White House."

Song Heping walked up to the writhing, agonizing Jensen and pressed the gun to his temple. "Let them know that not everyone in this world is afraid of you."

bah—

The final gunshots echoed through the desert, startling a flock of ravens that had been perched on the rock face.

everything is over.

The bodies of Jason and McCarthy lay silently on the sand, and all the other Green Beret members were also killed.

But the victory came at the cost of seven “Musician” mercenaries dying and twelve wounded.

"Evacuate immediately," Song Heping calmly ordered. "Proceed to Assembly Point B along the predetermined route."

The hunter approached without warning; the wound on his left arm had been re-bandaged.

"That communications soldier."

He hesitated.

Song Heping looked at the blood-stained granite; Ross's body remained in the same position as when he sent the signal.

“He’s a true warrior,” Song Heping said softly. “Let’s go; we can’t stay here any longer.”

A few minutes later, when the first rays of sunlight fully illuminated the canyon, the "Musicians'" troops had vanished without a trace.

Only the burning wreckage of vehicles and the shell casings scattered on the ground bear witness to this brutal battle.

The roar of jet engines echoed in the distance as two F-15Es sped toward them at supersonic speed, but they were destined only to collect the bodies of their fallen comrades.

On the other side of the border, Ferrari watched the receding fighter jet signals on the radar screen, a cold smile playing on his lips.

“Mission accomplished,” Ferrari said over the radio. “Proceed to Assembly Point C.”

Meanwhile, ten kilometers away, Kandar's camp was engulfed in flames.

As the sun fully rose, the Gulagal Canyon returned to its surface tranquility, with only newly added bullet holes in the rock walls and burning vehicle wreckage at the bottom of the valley serving as testaments to this brutal battle.

(End of this chapter)