Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 939 The Battle to Lift the Siege
Two hours later.

Silja, lower reaches of the Hailgan River, unnamed riverbank.

The icy river water soaked every inch of Song Heping's skin, temporarily suppressing the excruciating pain churning within his body.

Although he successfully escaped the contamination, the immense impact of the low-altitude parachute opening tore his muscles, and the exhaustion caused him to struggle between consciousness and unconsciousness.

He was like a heavy piece of driftwood, swept along by the turbulent and murky Hailergan River, crashing against the rocks, being swept into the whirlpool, and then struggling to float up again.

Fortunately, Song Heping had received the most rigorous survival training, including how to handle various emergencies on and under water.

The benefit of training is that it can save your life in critical moments.

Finally, a relatively calm undercurrent pushed him onto a desolate riverbank covered with pebbles.

The morning sun shone on the riverbank. Song Heping tried to sit up, but found that his body felt like it was falling apart, and he was so exhausted that he couldn't muster any strength.

The last image I saw before losing consciousness was of that mountaintop hell completely engulfed in flames, and the silhouette of an F-15 hovering high in the sky like a vulture...

A dark figure cautiously approached Song Heping, who was lying on the riverbank.

The shadow blocked the sunlight.

Song Heping wanted to look up to see who the other person was.

But my eyelids betrayed me, and everything went black before my eyes; I fainted.

Nine o'clock in the morning, in the town of Asara, in eastern Syria.

Intense gunfire echoed through the dilapidated streets, like the drumbeats of death.

Utkin's massive body moved nimbly along the ruins, his PKM general-purpose machine gun spitting fire as it tore apart an iron door that was trying to close, along with the militants behind it.

"Forward! Wakkana! Destination—the town hall building!"

His roar drowned out the gunfire, carrying the ruggedness and unquestionable decisiveness characteristic of the Slavs.

Jiang Feng was like a ghost, his figure appearing and disappearing amidst the smoke and flashes of the explosion.

His movements were fast, accurate, and ruthless; the AK-12 assault rifle in his hands was stable and terrifying.

As soon as an armed militant with an RPG poked his head out of a second-floor window, he was hit in the face by a precise three-round burst from Jiang Feng, and fell to the ground screaming.

"Clear the flanks! Old Russian, the main gate is yours now!"

He yelled into the communicator, his voice calm and utterly emotionless.

The outer perimeter has been breached. According to the confession of the 1515 prisoners we just captured, the last resistance force in Asara Town is reportedly hiding in the town government office building.

Wackerna's mercenaries displayed astonishing tactical skills and a fierce fighting style.

After all, most of these guys are experienced veterans, and Utkin, as one of the founders of Wakner, was also in charge of training the group's mercenaries, using the standards of the old GRU.

Furthermore, this military group is strictly disciplined, and those who fail to advance in battle or betray the organization will be punished with extremely cruel penalties.

However, for those who dare to fight, risk their lives, the group's rewards are equally generous, ensuring their families receive sufficient resettlement allowances.

Demolitionists precisely blasted through obstacles, assault teams made cross-cover advances, and snipers relentlessly shot down any enemy attempting to mount a counterattack from high ground. The Wakner mercenaries, like a red-hot dagger, easily pierced the defenses of Asara Town, which were now weakened by the redeployment of the main force.

The militants were stunned and retreated in disarray, leaving behind a scene of devastation and corpses.

Boom!

After Utkin blasted away the last 1515 militant stronghold in front of the town government's administrative office building with an RPG-7, he picked up his gun and was the first to smash open the rickety door.

Amidst the billowing smoke and dust, he was the first to rush in, his machine gun barrel scanning the dark corridor warily.

"Cook! Are you still breathing?! I am Utkin!"

His response came from a weak but unusually clear roar coming from an office deep in the corridor: "Suka! 'Tsar,' keep your voice down! I'm not deaf!"

Immediately following was a violent coughing fit.

"Tsar" is Utkin's nickname.

Utkin and Jiang Feng, who was right behind him, exchanged a glance, both seeing the ecstasy and lingering fear in each other's eyes. They kicked open the door to the office at the end of the hall, and the scene before them made their hearts sink.

The cook sat leaning against the corner of the wall, several streaks of blood running down his distinctive bald head. His left arm was hastily bandaged with torn clothes, and the bloodstains had turned black.

His face was pale, his lips were cracked, but his eyes remained as sharp as an eagle's.

Several empty magazines lay scattered around him, and he clutched a fighting knife with only half a blade remaining tightly in his hand. His gun was leaning against the wall, its barrel scorching hot.

The room was filled with the strong smell of gunpowder and blood.

"Damn it... This morning, those bastards from 1515 launched a fierce attack. If you guys had come any later, I would have had to fight them with this thing."

The cook grinned, revealing a smile that looked more like a grimace, and brandished the knife in his hand, his voice hoarse.

Jiang Feng rushed forward and quickly checked his injuries, his movements professional and swift.

"Penetrating wound, excessive blood loss, but no vital organs damaged. Russians, first aid kit!"

As he spoke, he took out a kettle and carefully fed the cook water.

Utkin tossed over a first-aid kit, his massive frame blocking the doorway as he grumbled, "You lucky bastard! I'm glad you're still alive! It's been so many days, I thought your body would rot by now!"

The cook greedily drank a few sips of water, feeling some relief in his burning throat.

He was panting heavily, his gaze sweeping over Utkin and Jiang Feng, filled with deep doubt and a hint of barely perceptible worry: "How's it going outside? Where's the main force of 1515?"

While skillfully re-treating and bandaging the cook's wounds, Jiang Feng said in a deep voice, "My old squad leader used himself as bait to pin down Bakdadi's main force of several thousand men on Mount Gelby, luring them away from the mountain so that we could take advantage of the situation."

"Dead?!" The cook's pupils contracted sharply, and he asked urgently, "Where...where is he now?"

The bandaging action paused for a moment.

Jiang Feng and Utkin at the door both fell silent.

The air in the room seemed to freeze instantly.

Jiang Feng raised his head, looking at the cook with a complicated expression, his voice lowering: "The plan... succeeded. The US military deployed F-15s, using thermobaric and cluster bombs to... completely plow the mountaintop on the eastern slope of Gelby. The main force of 1515... is finished."

The cook's face drained of color instantly. He grabbed Jiang Feng's arm with astonishing strength: "Where's Zang?! I'm asking you, where is he?!"

As he spoke, he looked past Utkin and Jiang Feng and back.

Apart from a few Wakner mercenaries guarding the entrance, Song Heping was not seen.

Utkin's rugged face was etched with gloom: "Communications... were cut off. His last call before the bombing was to order us to attack. Then... he lost contact. The rest... we... don't know."

"do not know?!"

The cook seemed to have all his strength drained away. He let go of Jiang Feng's hand, slumped back against the wall, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

"Damn it... damn it..."

He murmured, his voice filled with immense loss and an indescribable fear.

Has Song Heping, the man who seemed to have flawless plans, gone missing?

Under such devastating bombing?
The cook felt like the whole world was unreal.

While Jiang Feng and Utkin led the Wakna mercenaries into Asara Town, a fierce battle was also breaking out in the direction of Deir ez-Zor.

With a hoarse yet powerful roar from General Assam: "For Celia! For our homeland! Attack!"

The regular soldiers of the 104th Brigade, who had been holding back their anger for a long time, launched a massive counterattack against the 1515 siege force outside the city, which had become thin due to the main force being transferred away, like a flood that had burst its banks.

The pent-up anger and desire to survive finally erupted.

The shouts of battle were deafening, and the sounds of gunfire and cannons were incessant.

The militants of 1515 were caught off guard. They were used to sieges and harassment and never thought that the defenders, whom they regarded as trapped beasts, would dare to launch such a fierce counterattack!

Lacking heavy weapons and effective command, the 1515 armed siege force collapsed instantly, abandoning its armor and weapons. Under the vengeful fury of the 104th Brigade soldiers, it was driven out of the city's outer defenses that it had been building for many days and fled in disarray into the depths of the desert.

The siege of Deir ez-Zor has been lifted!
(End of this chapter)