Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 925 Psychological Warfare

The convoy drove into the mountains and stopped at the bottom of a secluded valley on the western side of Gelby, a valley filled with huge wind-eroded rocks and deep ravines.

As soon as the engine was turned off and the car door was opened, the scorching desert wind, carrying sand and gravel, immediately enveloped everyone.

Song Heping jumped out of the car, the gravel under his feet making a "crunching" sound.

He quickly looked around.

The jagged, interlocking rocks form natural shelters and blind spots, while the enormous shadows provide invaluable shade.

"Vehicles disperse and concealed! Cover with camouflage netting! All personnel, remain silent and stand by!"

Song Heping gave the second order in a low voice.

Mount Gelbi is located to the west of Deir ez-Zor, with the closest point of the mountain range less than five kilometers from the city boundary.

This is a natural strategic location.

If he were the Issam brigade commander defending the city, he would definitely send men to occupy the entire mountain. After all, if this place were lost, it would mean that the enemy could use it to suppress Deir ez-Zor from a high vantage point, which would be very disadvantageous for the defenders.

Since there is practically no intelligence, we must stop here and send out a reconnaissance team to obtain firsthand battlefield information.

If we continue driving blindly forward and happen to crash into the territory occupied by the 1515 armed group, our numbers won't even be enough to fill their teeth.

"Jiang Feng, pick two people to go and scout ahead. The rest of you, immediately camouflage the armored vehicles."

The soldiers of the "Death Squad" immediately sprang into action, their movements swift and silent, like precise gears meshing together.

The thick desert camouflage netting was quickly unfurled and covered several armored vehicles and armed pickup trucks, blending into the surrounding gray-brown rocks and gravel.

The hood was open to cool the engine, but no one spoke; the only sounds were the faint metallic clanging of equipment and the soft clatter of boots on gravel.

"Utkin, where are your men?"

The most important thing now is that one Wakner mercenary.

If he could join them, Song Heping believed he could make good use of the battalion's strength and accomplish something significant, unlike now, where all the men combined only had thirteen guns, three of whom were wounded and unable to do anything.

“It will take another two hours,” Utkin said. “They’ve reached Sukhnae.”

Tell them to hurry up!

Song Heping turned around and walked up to Jiang Feng.

Jiang Feng had removed most of the unnecessary equipment, carrying only a tactical backpack, an observation device with a telephoto lens, a laser rangefinder, an assault rifle with a silencer, and a pistol for self-defense.

His face was covered with thick desert camouflage paint, only his long, sharp eyes, hidden by the paint, gleamed with a calm light, like a cheetah lurking behind a sand dune.

"Jiang Feng."

Song Heping's voice was very low, almost drowned out by the howling wind and sand.

“Look carefully. Troop deployment, firing points, heavy equipment locations, especially possible infiltration routes and evacuation routes. Keep your eyes open and your ears perked up. Deir ez-Zor is now a den of wolves and tigers. Whether we survive this time depends on how sharp your eyes are. If the intelligence is wrong, we will all die here.”

Jiang Feng nodded vigorously, without saying a word more.

"Understood, old squad leader. You still don't trust me?"

He turned to Eames and said, “Send two smart guys who know this place to me.”

Imams did as he was told and soon brought two soldiers to Jiang Feng.

"Their hometown is all around here."

After saying that, he turned to his two subordinates and said, "From now on, you will obey Jiang's orders!"

"Yes, sir!"

After the three finished speaking, they immediately set off, disappearing into the dark mountains like ghosts, and soon vanished from Song Heping's sight.

Time becomes sticky and long while waiting.

Only the eerie howling of the wind whistling through the cracks in the rocks and the slight rustling of the camouflage netting remained in the valley.

Song Heping leaned against the back of a huge, sun-baked rock, squinting as he gazed at the ridgeline where Jiang Feng and the other two had disappeared.

The woman's heart-wrenching cries on the streets of Islamiyah, and the words "I curse all those who pick up guns," surged up from the depths of my memory again without warning, carrying a cold, suffocating weight.

He clenched his fists unconsciously, his knuckles turning white from the force, his nails digging deep into the flesh of his palms, trying to use this slight pain to dispel the persistent demonic sound.

"Still feeling uneasy?" Utkin's voice sounded behind him, tinged with hesitation. He handed over a bottle of water, then a pill, shaking the water in the bottle as he said, "This pill will help."

Song Heping glanced at the medicine in his hand.

Under the moonlight, it was a white, diamond-shaped pill.

Clearly, this is a stimulant intended for military use.

"For use by our Russian special forces."

Utkin raised his hand, gesturing for Song Heping to take it.

Song Heping finally reached for the bottled water, but pushed the pills away, saying, "I don't want to take this stuff."

Utkin seemed to have guessed Song Heping's choice. He smiled, put the pill in his mouth, and mumbled, "It's better not to take it. This stuff is really addictive. If you take it, you'll want to take it again when you go to the battlefield. It's a bit psychologically dependent."

Song Heping watched him swallow the pill like it was a candy and reminded him, "All stimulant drugs have side effects, Utkin, be careful."

"Too late!"

Utkin took a swig of mineral water and shook his head, saying, "I ate this stuff for the first time in Grozny. I might have died there without it. I'm used to it now."

Song Heping fell silent.

He knew that saying anything would be superfluous.

They are all adults and have the right to make their own choices.

Once a choice has been made, it is best for others not to interfere in the other person's cause and effect, as it is neither beneficial nor necessary.

He unscrewed the cap of the mineral water bottle and took a big gulp.

This locally produced mineral water, with its distinctive desert earthy smell and the taste of plastic containers, glides down a dry throat.

Utkin said in a low voice, "We did nothing wrong in Isliya. Remember, if it weren't for us, and the 1515s entered the city, many of the people inside wouldn't have been able to escape, and probably would have been beheaded. We were saving people; we were the right side, weren't we?"

Song Heping looked into Utkin's eyes, where there was the weariness of a veteran.

He was silent for a few seconds, then finally nodded: "Don't worry, I won't let these awful things affect my mood."

His voice was low and weary, avoiding the unanswerable question. Right or wrong?

In this cursed land, there is no right or wrong.

It was something that had long been soaked in blood and was now indistinct.

An hour later, Song Heping heard a faint buzzing sound from the miniature communicator in his ear, followed by Jiang Feng's deliberately low, almost whispered voice:

"Scouting party calling wolf den...Scouting party calling wolf den...Arrived at observation point. Good visibility. Target area...Confirmed."

Song Heping's heart sank suddenly, and an ominous premonition gripped him instantly.

Beneath the familiar calmness in Jiang Feng's voice, there was a hint of suppressed tension.

That was definitely not just a reaction to seeing a large number of enemies.

"Wolf's Den received. How's the situation?"

Song Heping responded immediately, his voice also extremely low, as if the wind in the valley had held its breath.

There was a suffocating silence on the other end of the communicator, broken only by a faint electrical noise.

Then, Jiang Feng's voice rang out again, each word sounding as if it had been pulled from an ice cellar:
"Deir ez-Zor...is surrounded. A complete defensive perimeter. Initial observations...at least three reinforced battalion-sized defensive perimeters in the east, south, and north of the city. Numerous armed pickup trucks, mortar positions...and..."

Jiang Feng's report ended there.

"what else?!"

Song Heping sensed something was amiss and immediately pressed, "Tell me quickly."

"Tanks confirmed, at least three T-55s, deployed scattered around the main intersection in the north of the city and the outskirts of the old airport in the south... Their role is estimated to be to suppress the airport with artillery fire and prevent air support..."

Song Heping's breath hitched slightly.

tank!

Hey!
This is beyond the equipment level of ordinary militants!
In less than two years, 1515 has become so wealthy?
It's gotten this far?!

I underestimated Bakdadi, the guy I almost killed back then.

It seems that 1515 has invested an astonishing amount of money this time!
With only a dozen or so people and a few light armored vehicles, charging in would be like throwing eggs against rocks.

Even if there were an additional battalion of Wakkana mercenaries, they would likely pay a heavy price to break into the city...

"Have you found the penetration point?"

Song Heping continued to press for answers, his voice revealing a urgency he himself was unaware of.

"Difficult...very difficult."

Jiang Feng's voice was filled with frustration and solemnity.

"The outer defenses are very deep, with dense outposts both visible and concealed, and patrols providing overlapping coverage with virtually no blind spots. The west side borders the river, and they control the riverbank, where heavy machine guns are mounted. The only area that seems slightly weak... is the western edge of the city near Gelby Hill, where the terrain is complex, with numerous abandoned buildings and collapsed factory areas. But..."

Jiang Feng paused, and a faint sound of clothes rubbing against rocks came through the communicator, as if he had adjusted his observation position.

Then he spoke again:
"But... Sergeant, they're... they're killing people. Right there on the open ground in front of that abandoned factory on the western edge of the city... they're executing... civilians."

The words "execute civilians" were like four cold bullets, piercing Song Heping's ears. His blood seemed to freeze instantly.

Almost simultaneously, in the background noise on Jiang Feng's end of the communicator, an extremely faint but incredibly clear scream, piercingly shrill, came through—

That was a woman's scream, filled with extreme pain and fear, at the last moment of her life!
The voice, like a ghostly hook, instantly stirred up memories that Song Heping had just suppressed in his mind.

On the streets of Islay, the heartbreaking cries of a mother holding her dead daughter echoed in his mind, while the distant yet clear death screams coming through the communicator now seemed to transcend the distance of space.

The same despair, the same heartbreak, the same accusations.

Curse all those who pick up guns…

Curse this damned war…

Curse everyone!

A bone-chilling cold, mixed with an indescribable rage, shot from Song Heping's feet to the top of his head.

He suddenly straightened up from behind the rock, the movement so forceful that it knocked over a small pebble, the soft "thud" sounding unusually clear in the deathly silent valley.

The team members around him immediately looked at him alertly, their eyes filled with questions and tension.

"Location! The exact location!"

Song Heping grabbed the high-powered binoculars handed to him by a teammate, went to the edge of the valley behind a large rock with a relatively open view, and eagerly held the binoculars up to his eyes.

The greyish-yellow ridgeline of the Gelby Mountains undulates in the field of vision.

In the distance, the outline of Deir ez-Zor appeared distorted and blurred by the rising dust and heat.

The telescope's field of view struggled to penetrate the air's disturbances and distance, focusing on the abandoned area in the west of the city that Jiang Feng had described.

In front of a huge, desolate factory ruin, there is a relatively flat, open area.

Surprisingly, a large number of bonfires appeared on the flat ground, one after another, piled up in the open area.

At the edge of the open area, several armed pickup trucks, riddled with bullet holes and rust, were parked—the signature "tech vehicles" of the 1515 militants.

A group of armed men dressed in black or camouflage and wearing headscarves, like hyenas surrounding carrion, were roughly shoving a dozen people toward the center of the open space.

Those people were dressed in rags; there were men and women, old people, and even children who were only a teenager.

Their hands were tied behind their backs, their faces filled with extreme fear and numb despair.

In the center of the open space, several armed men were forcibly holding down a struggling and crying middle-aged woman, while someone next to her was filming with a DV camera.

Her robes were filthy, her hair was disheveled, tears and snot streamed down her face, and she uttered incoherent pleas and curses.

A burly man who looked like a leader, with a face full of scars, was holding a machete and was grinning maliciously at the camera, shouting something loudly and excitedly, as if he was showing off something or performing some kind of evil ritual.

"What are they talking about?"

Song Heping squeezed out his voice through clenched teeth, asking Jiang Feng on the other end of the communicator.

Jiang Feng's voice was icy cold: "That beast with the knife... is shouting, 'This is what betrayal pays off! This is what infidels pay off! Traitors of Deir ez-Zor, watch closely!' Sergeant, I think they're playing psychological warfare. Record this and upload it online for the city's garrison..."

Song Heping's breathing immediately became heavy...

(End of this chapter)