Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 966 The Blessing of the Heavenly Eye!

"Damn it! Their eyes are in the sky!"

Ferrari slammed his fist on the table; the casualty figures and equipment loss curves of his own troops were rising sharply on the screen.

With the support of British satellites and data links, Lumar's armored forces were able to unleash several times their previous offensive power.

"We're at a huge disadvantage!"

Under the cover of precise artillery fire, Lumar's armored group, like a steel torrent, began to sweep across the front lines. The carefully constructed flank defenses of the ambush perimeter were in grave danger, and the casualty figures rose sharply.

Several government BTR armored vehicles were precisely targeted by anti-tank missiles and turned into burning torches.

An anti-tank missile team, along with their RPG launchers, built against the rocks, was blown into the air by a direct hit from a shell.

Just as the defensive line was teetering on the brink of collapse, and Song Heping's eyes were bloodshot as he prepared to order the reserves to plunge into this bloody maelstrom—

buzzing-

The satellite phone that Song Heping carried close to his body, which was encrypted with multiple layers of security, emitted a rapid and distinctive buzzing sound!

That sound was like heavenly music!
This is the call he's been waiting for!
Without the slightest hesitation, Song Heping answered the call in a flash: "Captain, speak!"

"Boy!"

A deep, rapid sound, processed with complex scrambling, came through—it was thunder!
"The 'skylight' is open for you! Access bus port: XXXXX. Access key: 'Sky Eye'! Limited bandwidth, overpass time window of fifteen minutes! It will let you see the jackal's fangs! Act fast!"

After saying that, Lei Ming didn't waste any more words, and the communication was instantly cut off.

"Henry! Highest clearance! Access me immediately!"

Song Heping yelled at Henry, repeating the information he had just received.

"Roger that!"

Henry's ten fingers moved like afterimages as he frantically operated on the dedicated tactical terminal.

A few seconds later, the screen flashed and a simple black interface appeared. Then, a high-resolution, near real-time satellite overhead image was clearly displayed!

The entire Rift Valley battlefield, especially the movements of the Lumar counterattack forces, the positions of the artillery positions, and the SAS teams that lurk like vipers in hidden corners to provide laser guidance, were all on full display!
"Found them!" Henry's voice was filled with elation. "The Lumar heavy artillery group! Coordinates XX! Two howitzer batteries! And an SAS guidance team, two locations on the reverse slope of the ridge at three o'clock! And one location at the bend in the valley at eleven o'clock!"

"Immediately order the government artillery to concentrate all remaining firepower on these coordinates! Blow them into silence!"

Song Heping's voice was like a sharp blade drawn from its sheath, precisely aimed at the fatal target on the screen.

bang——

bang——

bang——

bang——

The remaining Soviet-made M46 130mm cannons of the government forces roared in belated fury!

As an artillery piece that was widely deployed in Africa during the Cold War, this gun has a range of over 27 kilometers, is towed and mobile, and is well-suited for use in most of Africa's terrain.

Guided precisely by the "Sky Eye" satellite imagery, the shells slammed into Lumar's artillery positions and the SAS guidance team's hiding places!

A violent explosion and flames instantly engulfed the target area!
Lumar's fierce artillery support came to an abrupt halt!

Without precise guidance, the momentum of the Lumar armored group's charge clearly stalled, becoming blind and chaotic.

Meanwhile, the battle in the sky also reached its climax.

Thanks to their superior maneuverability and electronic countermeasures capabilities, the four Typhoon fighter jets successfully evaded the first and second waves of SAM-6 missile interception.

It must be said that although Great Britain has declined considerably, the skills and mental fortitude of its Royal Air Force pilots are still top-notch.

"Ferrari! Tiered interception! Segmented attack! Group C missiles launch three seconds later! Group B, block their escape routes! Listen, if the British lose even one aircraft—and remember, just one—they'll definitely retreat! They can't afford the risk!"

Song Heping stared at the radar screen and calmly gave the order.

Once the four Typhoon missiles reach their attack positions, the already heavily stressed defenses will definitely be breached.

Now, Song Heping is gambling!

Although the British had a strong air superiority and satellite assistance.

But they are not without weaknesses.

Their weakness is their will to fight.

I'll do it myself.

But they dare not!
He was betting on the "Musician" defense company. Even if he lost this round, he could simply retreat to Darfur or even leave Africa and return to South America.

But if the British lose this battle, and even one Typhoon is shot down, they will lose the interests of an entire nation!
They can afford to lose, but the British can't, and that old woman on floor Q of the MI6 building can't afford to lose even more!
The SAM-6 position employed more complex and flexible tactics.

The third wave of attacks!
Two SAM-6 missiles, launched from different directions and altitudes at extremely tricky angles, blocked a Typhoon aircraft attempting to evade a large-angle roll maneuver, much like perfectly coordinated hunters.

The pilot made an extreme escape maneuver, and the decoys were scattered like flowers from the sky!

boom--! ! !
A SAM-6 exploded at approximately ten meters! But a violent fragmentation storm, like the Grim Reaper's scythe, swept fiercely across the right fuselage and engine exhaust area of ​​the "Typhoon"!

"Mayday! Mayday! Albion 3 has been hit! Right engine malfunction! Hydraulic system alarm! Airframe damaged! Repeat, airframe severely damaged!"

Inside the cockpit of the Typhoon, which had been hit by debris from a nearby explosion, warning lights flashed wildly, the pilot's voice was filled with shock, the fighter jet was trailing thick smoke, trembling violently, and its altitude was dropping rapidly.

This scene was transmitted in real time via a high-definition tactical pod from the Typhoon's lead aircraft back to the British Joint Tactical Command (JTAC) at its rear base in Africa and to MI6's strategic intelligence room in London. "My God! They actually hit one of the fighter jets!"

The JTAC air force commander looked at the battered and wrecked Typhoon on the screen, its face turning ashen.

London, Q-level Strategic Intelligence Room.

Hammond watched the live feed, his eyelids twitching wildly, a chill rising from the soles of his feet.

Colonel Blackwood slammed his fist on the table: "These bastards!"

"enough!"

A cold voice came through the encrypted communication; it was Ms. M.

The old woman's voice, laced with suppressed rage and unwavering resolve, screamed: "Immediately order all aircraft to withdraw from combat! Repeat, all air units, disengage immediately and return to base! A warplane worth hundreds of millions of pounds, representing the glory of the Royal Air Force, shot down, and while supporting a 'secret operation'? Do you want tomorrow's BBC headlines and the UN Security Council to become a slaughterhouse for the British Empire?! The political risks of this operation have exceeded the threshold! Execute immediately!"

Orders are absolute.

The remaining three Typhoons, including the lead aircraft that desperately covered the injured wingman, under the relentless, death stare of the SAM-6 radar, reluctantly but swiftly turned their noses, increased thrust, and hastily retreated towards the southern base.

The damaged Typhoon, escorted by friendly aircraft, struggled to disappear from the edge of the radar screen, trailing a long plume of black smoke.

"The typhoon has receded! They've left!"

Ferrari's hoarse roar exploded in the communication channel, like a red-hot iron rod piercing through the almost solidified suffocating atmosphere in the command post.

On the radar screen, the four menacing dots representing the Typhoon fighter jet were fleeing southward in a sorry state.

"A paper tiger is still just a paper tiger!"

Song Heping felt a slight weight lifted from his heart, but his face remained unperturbed, his gaze fixed like a hawk on the tactical terminal in front of Henry.

That small screen was, at this moment, the only window through which God looked down upon the world—a high-resolution satellite view clearly marked every corner of the battlefield.

He wasn't looking at the fleeing "typhoon," nor at his own troops still enduring sporadic artillery fire at the front lines. His gaze pierced through all the chaos and smoke, locking onto the heart of the Lumar armored group behind the Rift Valley battlefield!

A massive, meticulously camouflaged wheeled command center is surrounded by several main battle tanks, with communication antennas standing tall and vehicles coming and going frequently, like the busiest node in an anthill.

Beside them, several armored medical vehicles marked with red crosses only served to further confuse the situation. Henry's fingers flew across the keyboard, and a precise coordinate frame instantly locked onto the target—the Lumar brigade command post!

"'Sky Eye' window remaining time: 12 minutes and 37 seconds."

Henry's voice was taut like a piano string, and the bright red countdown numbers on the screen jumped relentlessly.

Every second is a flow of life and a battle opportunity!
Song Heping abruptly grabbed the encrypted radio transmitter, his voice like a roaring torrent beneath the ice, instantly drowning out all the noise in the command post: "Alexander! Alexander! Respond! This is forward command post!"

After a brief hiss of electricity, a young but suppressed and hoarse voice rang out: "Alexander received! Speak!"

His voice carried a forced, suppressed weariness and a deeper, impending eruption of fire.

That was Alexander, Vasily's wingman. Not long ago, he watched helplessly as Vasily's MiG-23 turned into a burning meteor and crashed to the ground.

"'Sky Eye' is activated! Locked onto 'Alpha Wolf'!" Song Heping spoke rapidly, like machine gun fire. "Coordinates XXXXX, Lumar Brigade Command! Repeat, Brigade Command! Less than fifteen minutes remain in the 'Sky Eye' window! You must destroy it before it shuts down! Do you understand?"

There was a deathly silence on the other end of the communication line, with only the sound of heavy breathing.

A few seconds later, Alexander's hoarse voice boomed with a desperate cry: "Alexander understands! Coordinates XXXXX! Take down the 'alpha wolf'!"

The last few words were almost like beads of blood spurting from between his teeth.

"Excellent! Stand by! Await my attack signal! Make sure to approach the enemy covertly and evade low-altitude air defenses!"

Now, Song Heping must also resolve a critical issue before Alexander's planes reach their attack positions—the man-portable air defense systems (MANPADS) in Lumar's forces.

Those were equipment brought by the SAS.

It must be SAS using it.

We must divert the attention of the SAS special forces to create an opportunity for Alexander.

Thinking this, Song Heping's fingers didn't pause for a moment. He immediately switched to another low-frequency channel used only by the government forces, and his voice suddenly rose, carrying an unquestionable, iron-fisted command: "11th Brigade! 11th Brigade! Brigade Commander Karim! Respond immediately!"

A series of static noises and faint sounds of artillery fire came through the channel. After a few seconds, a voice, clearly hesitant and fearful, finally rang out: "Ka...Karim received. Please speak."

"Brigadier Karim! I don't care what methods you use!"

Song Heping's voice was resolute, each word like a hot steel nail pounding into the other's eardrum, "Immediately! I mean immediately! I order your entire brigade, all mobile infantry and armored vehicles, to cross the 'Gray Rock' mountain range from the right flank! Launch a full-scale assault on the left rear flank of Lumar! Objective—cut them in half! Separate the vanguard at the rift valley exit! Coordinate with the frontal counterattack! You have only ten minutes! Within ten minutes, I want to see your troops wedged into Lumar's flank! Tear apart their defenses! Draw all fire! Understand? This is an order!"

"Forward..."

Karim's voice instantly turned like a rooster being strangled, filled with panic, "Gray Rock... the slope over there is too steep, Lumar... Lumar's defenses are very strong! Their firepower is heavy! My troops... my troops have suffered heavy losses and need time to rest... we need artillery support... requesting..."

"No support! No time!"

Song Heping abruptly interrupted him, his voice so cold it could freeze the air, “'Sky Eye' window is the greatest support! The enemy’s eyes are blind now! This is your only chance! And your last chance! Ten minutes! Brigade Commander Karim, in ten minutes, if I don’t see your assault arrow appear at the impact position marked by 'Sky Eye,' court-martial him! Now, execute the order!”

He slammed the communication cable shut, his chest heaving violently, not from exhaustion, but from a rage that seemed to burst from his chest.

The command post was deathly silent, except for the real-time footage transmitted by the "Sky Eye" on the tactical terminal in front of Henry, which was playing silently: the blue-marked group representing the 11th Brigade was still huddled at the edge of the departure position, only symbolically crawling forward a short distance, as if the front was not a battlefield, but a bottomless lava hell.

The marked "limestone" impact route was completely empty.

Time is ticking away.

"Time remaining in the Sky Eye window: 10 minutes and 15 seconds."

(End of this chapter)