Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 967 Supervisory Team, Charge!
Can't wait any longer!
Those cowards from the 11th Brigade!

If we wait any longer, we will definitely miss the opportunity!

We must launch an attack on the flank at all costs, using a flood of attacks to draw the attention of the SAS special forces and create the best opportunity for that orphaned MiG-23 in the air!

Song Heping suddenly picked up the radio walkie-talkie.

"Jiang Feng!"

Song Heping's voice lowered, but contained a chilling killing intent that was even more terrifying than his previous roar.

"exist!"

Jiang Feng's voice was harder than rock.

"Bring 200 people!"

Song Heping spoke each word slowly and deliberately, each syllable imbued with a chilling coldness.

"Form a commando team! Immediately proceed to the 11th Brigade's attack line! Find Karim! Tell him—"

Song Heping's eyes were sharp enough to pierce steel. "My knife only cuts necks! Either his troops charge up the limestone within ten minutes, tear open Lumar's flank, and draw all the SAS and anti-aircraft fire; or, ten minutes later, I will personally use his head to pay tribute to the brothers who died today! You are in charge of carrying out this mission!"

"understand!"

Jiang Feng did not hesitate at all.

After ending the call, he turned to the group of mercenaries behind him, who were already fully equipped and ready to go, their eyes equally fierce and ruthless, and roared: "Follow me! Target—11th Brigade Command Post! Quickly!"

Two hundred well-equipped mercenaries, exuding an aura of steel and gunpowder, surged out of the command post like a silent black torrent, led by Jiang Feng, and rushed toward the right flank of the front line, where smoke filled the air and gunfire was intermittent.

Inside the command post, the air seemed to have solidified into lead.

Ferrari looked at Song Heping's bloodshot eyes, which looked like those of a trapped beast ready to devour its prey, and his throat went dry.

Henry's fingers were almost spasming as he typed on the keyboard. The satellite images kept refreshing, but the blue markings of the 11th Brigade remained frozen in place.

"Time remaining in the Sky Eye window: 8 minutes and 02 seconds."

"Forward, this is 'Razor'!"

Alexander's voice came through the encrypted channel again, accompanied by a forced, suppressed engine roar in the background. Clearly, his MiG-23 had taxied onto the runway and was ready to be launched at any moment.

"Target coordinates locked! Requesting sortie orders! Repeat, requesting sortie orders!"

The voice was filled with an urgent, surging force.

Song Heping stared intently at the unmoving 11th Brigade insignia on the screen, then glanced at the bright red countdown, his jaw clenched, his cheek muscles bulging sharply.

He took a deep breath and spoke into the microphone, his voice suppressed like a volcano about to erupt: "'Razor'! Stand by! Repeat, stand by! Remain concealed! Do not enter the battlefield airspace without my order! Await signal! Over!"

He practically yelled out the last two words before abruptly cutting off the communication.

Waiting! Another damn wait!

Every passing second felt like a dull knife cutting into flesh.

The "Sky Eye" offers a view that is the eye of God, but it is also a Damocles' sword hanging overhead.

Once it's extinguished, our advantage will vanish, and the British will once again unilaterally make the map transparent!

At that time, my situation will be more difficult than ever before.

Time, mercilessly, slides into the abyss.

"Time remaining in the Sky Eye window: 6 minutes and 50 seconds."

The front right wing, at the foot of the "limestone" mountains.

The atmosphere here is like a completely different world from the main battlefield of Rift Valley.

The sounds of gunfire were pitifully sparse, with only a few sporadic mortar shells occasionally landing in the distance, kicking up a few symbolic clouds of dust.

The soldiers of the 11th Brigade, like frightened ostriches, mostly huddled in foxholes, rock crevices, or behind armored vehicles. Occasionally, someone would peek out nervously at the steep, jagged slopes of "Gray Rock," only to immediately retreat back inside. Fear, like a tangible poisonous fog, permeated the breath of every soldier.

The brigade's temporary command post was located behind a BMP-1 infantry fighting vehicle that was half-buried in an earthen embankment. Brigade Commander Karim's obese body almost filled the small interior space of the vehicle.

His hand holding the communicator trembled slightly, his forehead covered in greasy sweat. He stammered into the microphone, "...I know! I know the Wolf's Den's orders! But Colonel...Greyrock can't get through! Lumar has at least two armored battalions there, plus anti-tank teams...My soldiers...they'll die! I need more artillery fire...I need..."

"What do you need? Do you need to go back to your mother's arms and nurse, Brigade Commander Karim!"

A cold, flat voice, like the hiss of a viper, suddenly rang in Karim's ear.

It wasn't coming from the communicator, but from outside the car!

At the same time, a cold, hard, round object, carrying the aura of death, pressed heavily against his temple!
Karim's entire body of fat shuddered violently, and the communicator fell to the floor of the car with a thud.

He stiffly and extremely slowly turned his neck, and a face as if carved by a knife and axe, devoid of any expression, appeared outside the car door. Those eyes were like ice caves in the Antarctic permafrost, unfathomable and piercing straight into his soul.

What was pressed against his temple was the dark muzzle of an AKM assault rifle!

Jiang Feng!

Outside the vehicle, two hundred menacing mercenaries had already dispersed, their dark gun barrels intentionally or unintentionally aimed at every government officer and guard who tried to approach.

The air was thick with the suffocating smell of gunpowder, more suffocating than Lumar's artillery barrage.

"The command post's order is to tear open Lumar's flank within ten minutes."

Jiang Feng's voice wasn't loud, but it clearly pierced through the engine noise and the distant artillery fire, reaching Karim and every officer around him who had their ears perked up: "Now, there's only..."

Jiang Feng didn't even look at his watch; he simply pressed the muzzle of his gun harder against Karim's burning temple.

"Less than six minutes."

Karim's face drained of color instantly, his lips trembling as he stammered, "You...you can't do this...this is...this is..."

"This is a battlefield, brigade commander."

Jiang Feng interrupted him, his voice completely flat.

"Either you order a charge now and prove your loyalty and courage with the blood of the Lumar people; or..."

He paused, his icy gaze sweeping over Karim's pale, chubby face: "I'll use your blood, and the blood of all the officers who refused to carry out orders, to consecrate the flag, and then my men will personally 'supervise' your soldiers as they charge. Choose one."

The chilling touch of death, like a venomous snake, coiled tightly around Karim's neck.

He had no doubt that the man in front of him, who was like a machine, would pull the trigger in the next second.

He saw the eyes of the mercenaries behind Jiang Feng—those weren't the eyes of soldiers, but the eyes of butchers, hyenas eyeing lambs to the slaughter!

He had no doubt that with just a gesture from Jiang Feng, his command post would be wiped out in a matter of seconds!
"Charge! Charge!"

Karim suddenly erupted into a hoarse, piercing roar, his voice distorted by extreme fear. He grabbed the dropped communicator and screamed into the microphone with all his might, spittle flying onto it: "Attention all! This is Brigade Commander Karim! Attack! Attack! Target: the top of Gray Rock Mountain! Charge at all costs! Charge! Tear those Lumar bastards to shreds! Anyone who retreats will be executed by the commandos! Charge—!"

That desperate shout of "Charge!" was like a fuse that ignited a powder keg.

The government officers, already terrified by the guns of the supervising officers, began shouting at the top of their lungs to urge their soldiers on: "Get up! Bastards! Charge! Now! Charge!"

The muzzles of the supervisory team's guns swayed behind the soldiers like the forked tongues of venomous snakes.

Fear instantly transformed into another form of hysterical madness.

Driven by gun barrels and officers’ roars, the soldiers, like a flock of sheep being whipped, emerged from foxholes and behind rocks, scrambling chaotically and recklessly toward the steep “limestone” slope!
The armored vehicles roared, their tracks kicking up dust as they clumsily crawled uphill, searching for a relatively gentle path.

The chaotic, desperate charge finally began to crash down on Lumar's left rear flank!
"Time remaining in the Sky Eye window: 4 minutes and 18 seconds."

Henry's voice trembled slightly, almost imperceptibly.

On the screen, the blue arrow representing the 11th Brigade finally moved, like a wounded but enraged python, twisting and struggling, but resolutely lunging toward the marked point of impact—the vulnerable junction on the flank and rear of the Lumar armored group!

(End of this chapter)