Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 921 The Gun from Behind

Ibrahim al-Haji stood on the back of an armed pickup truck, holding an AK-47 assault rifle equipped with an EO 552 sight in his right hand and a walkie-talkie in his left. His eyes, hidden behind a black cloth mask, were fixed on the outline of Islamya gradually appearing on the horizon ahead.

"Falcon! Falcon! This is 'Sandstorm,' please respond!"

There was only a hissing sound from the radio, with no response.

"Damn it!" Ibrahim kicked the metal body of the carriage hard, the metallic clanging sound particularly jarring in the sweltering air.

His second-in-command—a bearded man with a face full of scars—came closer and whispered, "Lord Ibrahim, the Falcon Squad has been out of contact for over an hour. They might..."

"Shut up!"

Ibrahim turned his head sharply, his bloodshot eyes flashing with furious rage.

"They'll be fine! The government troops in Islamabad have all fled long ago; those cowardly dogs wouldn't dare to resist!"

At this moment, corpses appeared on both sides of the dirt road.

Ibrahim, seething with rage, raised his hand and fired a burst of bullets at the corpses, tearing them to shreds.

The convoy continued to move forward.

The "Storm" squad, consisting of fifteen armed pickup trucks and two modified trucks, kicked up billowing yellow sand in the desert.

More than ninety soldiers, fully armed, were in high spirits.

They had just defeated a remnant of the government forces near the town of Dola, and their morale was high, so they led their troops toward the strategic town of Isriyah.

Ibrahim's mind raced with calculations.

Isriyah is the gateway to the ports of Latakia and Damascus. Taking it would completely open the entire northern Syria to the 1515 militants.

More importantly, this is also a key channel for the government forces to transport supplies to Deir ez-Zor. Once cut off, the defenders of Deir ez-Zor will be completely isolated and helpless.

The civil war has been going on for more than half a year.

With NATO's covert support, the Free Army and the Kold'd forces, who had been hiding in the northeastern mountains, finally broke through the Sierra Leone government's defenses and marched south from the northwest and northeast, heading straight for Damascus.

The 1515 armed group, which has been entrenched in the eastern border region, certainly wouldn't let such a good opportunity pass by.

Taking Damascus meant occupying the capital, which had extremely important symbolic significance.

Currently, there are only three truly powerful opposition groups in Syria. Whoever takes Damascus will have more leverage and a stronger voice when it comes to dividing up Syria in the future.

Therefore, the 1515 militant group suspended its previous expansion plans in western Iligo and deployed a large number of troops to Cyria, preparing to seize a large amount of territory and establish its own extremist sphere of influence in the future.

Unexpectedly, they encountered a tough nut to crack as soon as they advanced into Deir ez-Zor. The defense of Deir ez-Zor was led by the old general Issam, and under his leadership, the 1515 forces suffered heavy casualties and were unable to break through for a long time.

In the end, Bakdadi could only order his men to temporarily besiege Deir ez-Zor, and then send some troops to bypass Deir ez-Zor and advance towards the center. The "Storm" squad was the vanguard responsible for attacking Isriyah.

Therefore, this important town must be captured.

By controlling this area, the 1515 militia could not only cut off Damascus's supply lines to Deir ez-Zor, but also maintain control over the offensive against Damascus and other coastal towns.

As the vanguard, Ibrahim was determined to capture Islamiyah.

"Speed ​​up!"

He yelled into the radio, "Everyone, get into battle mode! If Falcon Squad is really in trouble, it means there's still resistance in the city! Whoever it is, kill them all!"

The convoy engines roared, and the speed increased once again.

About twenty minutes later.

The eastern entrance to Islamiyah.

A dead silence.

Ibrahim raised his hand to signal the convoy to stop, then took out his binoculars and began to observe the town's entrance.

The streets were deserted, with no one in sight, except for a few civilian corpses lying haphazardly by the roadside, clearly cleared out by the Falcon Squad he had sent out.

"Something's wrong..."

He murmured quietly.

"Sir, should we send someone in to scout?" the deputy asked.

Ibrahim sneered: "Of course."

He picked up the walkie-talkie and switched channels: "'Martyrs,' prepare for action!"

Five minutes later, a dilapidated old pickup truck, riddled with bullet holes and loaded with explosives, was pushed to the front of the line.

Two fanatical young soldiers got into the car, their eyes filled with not fear, but only fervent excitement.

“Allahu Akbar!”

They shouted in unison, then stepped on the gas, and the old pickup truck roared toward the town entrance.

Ibrahim watched this scene coldly, a sneer creeping onto his lips.

Suicide car bomb attacks are one of the most classic tactics in 1515.

No matter what ambushes are laid in the city, they will be torn apart by this mobile bomb.

There must be an ambush at the entrance.

Let the suicide bomber car rush in and see if the enemy fires.

If you don't fire, you'll be bombed.

If we fire, we can locate the enemy's firing positions.

However, the car had only gone less than twenty meters into the town entrance—

boom--! ! !
With a deafening explosion, a fireball shot out from the bottom of the pickup truck and into the air.

The car was blown to pieces, and flames shot into the sky!

But Ibrahim astutely noticed that the explosion was far more powerful than the amount of explosives in the car itself.

"Landmines!" the deputy exclaimed.

Ibrahim's face darkened.

"There really was an ambush..." he gritted his teeth. "Those useless government troops wouldn't have set up such a trap. They must be mercenaries!"

He immediately picked up the walkie-talkie: "Attention everyone! There's a minefield at the town entrance! 'Martyr' Team Two, get another vehicle on board and blow up the minefield!"

The second suicide car rushed forward, and in the violent explosion, a path was blasted through the minefield.

The third pickup truck launched the attack.

All the 1515 militants' eyes were fixed on the pickup truck...

Fifty meters...

Thirty meters...

ten meters...

Go in.

No explosion...

Da da da--

A flame shot out from a building near the entrance.

A burst of bullets pierced the windshield of the pickup truck, hitting the driver.

The pickup truck went out of control and crashed into a ditch by the roadside, where it exploded violently a few seconds later.

boom--

"Now!"

Ibrahim grinned maliciously and waved his hand. "The mines have been cleared! Begin the attack! Slaughter them all! Let the blood of these infidels be a sacrifice for our warriors!"

"Kill!"

The armed pickup truck squad launched an attack.

The fanatical members of the 1515 armed group were as excited as if they had been injected with stimulants.

They like this feeling.

Death is not scary to them at all.

After all, they firmly believed that they would go to heaven after death, where they would be served by countless nymphs...

What they enjoyed even more was that every time they breached a city, they could execute those who disobeyed them, binding them like livestock, dragging them to the wilderness, and slitting their throats one by one...

Only then will their nerves, numbed by killing, be excited again, and the frenzied release of dopamine will make them feel as if they are on drugs.

Inside the city of Isriyah.

Eames crouched at the window of a three-story building, his SVD sniper rifle resting steadily on the windowsill.

His palms were sweating.

Deep down, he was unwilling to face the madman of the 1515 armed force.

In terms of cruelty, the Free Army, Kold, and 1515 are far inferior to the other two.

In the eyes of the 1515 armed group, anyone who does not submit to their organization deserves to die, and should be dealt with in the most cruel way.

"They're coming."

He took a deep breath and spoke softly into the radio.

"Don't panic, Lieutenant," came Song Heping's calm reply through the headset. "Proceed according to plan and stall them."

Eames took a deep breath, and the crosshairs of his scope locked onto a 1515 soldier jumping off a pickup truck.

boom!
The bullet struck the target precisely in the chest, and the man fell to the ground.

"Fire!"

Eames roared.

Instantly, flames shot out from the windows of buildings on both sides of the street!
Bullets from machine guns, rifles, and sniper rifles rained down like a storm, instantly riddling the dozen or so 1515 soldiers at the forefront with bullets, who fell screaming in agony.

"There's an ambush! Take cover!"

A minor leader roared, but before he could finish speaking, a bullet ripped open his skull.

Ibrahim stood at a distance, holding binoculars, his face ashen like a zombie.

"Snipers! Machine gunners! Suppress their firing positions!"

He put down his binoculars and roared out the order.

All the heavy machine guns on the 1515 armed pickup trucks were firing at full power, relentlessly targeting the buildings near the town entrance.

Large-caliber bullets struck the building's exterior wall, sending debris flying.

But Eames's group had an absolute advantage in terrain, and their crossfire made any enemy who tried to charge a sitting duck.

In just five minutes, more than twenty bodies lay on the street.

"Damn it!"

Ibrahim slammed his fist into the car door.

"These bastards are definitely not government troops!"

In his view, the government forces simply did not have such a tenacious will to resist.

In the previous town of Dora, the defending forces collapsed at the first touch, offering no respect whatsoever. More than a thousand men were chased like dogs by their own force of less than a hundred.

The deputy was pale: "Sir, we've suffered too many losses. Should we retreat first...?"

"withdraw?!"

Ibrahim suddenly grabbed his collar, his eyes flashing with a fierce light.

"Isliya must be taken! At all costs! Keep the attack going! Bomb their strongpoints with RPGs!"

Several RPG shooters immediately stepped forward and fired at the building windows.

boom!
boom!
boom!
The second-floor windows of a building were shattered by the explosion.

The attack appears to have had some effect.

Just after the explosion, when the 1515 members launched another attack, the previous firing positions seemed to have gone silent.

Soon, they rushed into the town entrance.

"Hahahaha! I knew they were all cowards. As long as we're ruthless enough, they'll be scared out of their wits!"

Ibrahim was extremely pleased with himself. He picked up the walkie-talkie and shouted, "All of you, push forward! The entrance has been breached, enter the city, and kill!"

Just as he was going mad with the fall of the city, about a kilometer away from the battlefield, on the other side of the sand dunes...

Song Heping put down his binoculars, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Ibrahim has taken the bait."

Utkin, lying on the roof of a BMP-97 infantry fighting vehicle, chewed on a dry, compressed biscuit and mumbled, "Is this guy crazy? So many people have died and he's still charging?"

“Because Isliya is too important,” Jiang Feng said coldly. “He can’t afford to lose.”

Song Heping nodded, his gaze fixed on the pickup truck in the distance, surrounded by more than a dozen armed men—Ibrahim was standing there, waving a walkie-talkie and hysterically directing the battle.

"The time has come."

Song Heping reached out and took the SVD, walked up the sand dune, lay down at the top, and set up the gun...

I left the city early, hid here, and lay in wait in the scorching sand dunes for so long, all for this moment.

The fish is hooked.

Now, the "Storm" squad has pushed all its forces into the city, leaving Ibrahim with only a dozen or so kittens by his side.

For Song Heping, this was exactly the scenario he needed.

The arrow in the PSO-1 scope caught Ibrahim, who was still shouting and laughing wildly while holding the walkie-talkie.

Song Heping did not rush to fire the gun, but instead looked around and half-closed his eyes.

The wind brushed across his face.

"Distance 900... Left crosswind... Wind speed 3 m/s... Temperature 41..."

Utkin glanced at Song Heping, then looked in the direction of Ibrahim.

It's very far away.

He couldn't help but ask, "It's so far away, are you sure you can handle it...?"

bah—

Before he could finish speaking, Song Heping fired a shot.

"Sokka!"

He cursed under his breath, turned his head sharply, raised his AK-12 assault rifle, and looked through the scope.

But no matter how he looked, he couldn't see Ibrahim anymore. All he saw was a chaotic mob of 1515 members surrounding the pickup truck in a panic, like a swarm of ants whose nest had been trampled.

Song Heping holstered his gun, quickly rushed down the sand dune, and said in a calm tone like a hunter who had just shot a bird and was on his way to retrieve the carcass, "It's our turn!"

(End of this chapter)