Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 969 The Undercurrents and Countdown in the Command Center

Inside the command vehicle, the piercing alarm had stopped, but the tension was so thick it was as if it had been frozen in place.

The pale, bluish light from the screen illuminated the sweaty, ashen faces of the staff officers.

The air was filled with the smell of burnt machinery, the stench of sweat, and a sense of panic that seemed to be "out of control."

Brigadier General Lumar stood in front of the huge tactical screen, his face turning ashen under the blue light.

On the screen, the red alert signal, symbolizing fierce fighting, flashed wildly in the area representing the right-wing limestone highlands, forming a blinding sea of ​​blood that stood out starkly in the darkness.

The radio was filled with calls and reports from troops in all directions, creating a chaotic scene like a marketplace. Staff officers were urgently reporting casualty figures and ammunition consumption.

Each cold, hard number was like a small hammer, pounding on Lumar's seemingly resilient nerves.

His proud defensive line and the carefully arranged firing points were being gradually eroded and worn down by those soldiers he considered "country bumpkins," who, under the cover of night, used the most primitive and barbaric human wave tactics.

This reckless night raid completely exceeded his meticulous calculations, filling him with a sense of rage at being trampled on by inferior beings, as well as an uncontrollable panic at the loss of control over the situation.

"Sir! The machine gun emplacement on Hill C3 reports that they've run out of ammunition! Repeat, out! Resupply needed! Urgent!!"

"The D1 anti-tank team is completely wiped out! The heatsink is gone! The government army's BMPs are charging into the second-line trenches!"

"The right-wing air defense sentry reports that they didn't see any aircraft with night vision infrared, but they spotted an engine heat source moving behind the government troops! It looks like a truck is moving!"

Bad news kept coming in one after another.

Lumar pursed his lips, his knuckles turning white from gripping them so tightly.

He felt his fingertips were dazed, but he was still trying his best to calm himself down, his mind racing.

The pressure on the right flank of the defense is at its maximum, but the core defense line remains intact.

As long as they can withstand this wave of frenzied night attacks and exhaust the government forces, the odds of victory will still be theirs.

The SAS air defenses have been moved to the right as ordered. The low-altitude air defenses are not good at night, but with them in a strong defensive position, there shouldn't be any problems.

As long as the government forces' MiG-23s don't dare to come over, the right flank defense line can still be held!

His gaze swept across the green sector on the screen, representing the air defense coverage area of ​​his own forces, confirming that it was firmly covering the direction of the limestone.

A subtle, almost imperceptible confidence in his own judgment returned.

He picked up the communicator, his voice regaining its usual coldness and hardness, exceptionally clear in the quiet command vehicle:
"Order the reserve force to immediately reinforce the right flank, Sector D! All mortars and flares, keep firing! Concentrate fire on the eastern slope of the limestone cliffs! Crush their follow-up echelons at the foot of the mountain! Air defense positions, maintain maximum alert! Night vision and infrared all on! Don't miss a single bird's thermal shadow!"

He had to stay calm; he had to be the anchor in this dark night.

On the other side of the rift valley, in the government army's forward command post, nestled in the shadow of a massive rock, the atmosphere was so heavy it seemed like water could be wrung out.

The air was polluted, filled with the smells of sweat, cheap tobacco, and rust.

A few small red lights provide a dim light.

On the main screen, the blue arrow representing the 11th Brigade's attack is slowly and heartbreakingly "arching" against the red wall representing the Lumar defense line.

With every tiny bit of forward movement, the signal representing a certain unit dims or disappears.

Satellite images and thermal images transmitted by drones clearly show the blood trail left by the blue arrow on the limestone highlands, paved with cold corpses (dark blue) and burning debris (bright white).

Song Heping stood like an iron statue in front of the screen, his bloodshot eyes like two burning embers in the dim red light, staring intently at the hell marked by blood and fire.

He witnessed the horrific scene of the 11th Brigade soldiers crashing their flesh and blood against the steel walls in the darkness, and the despair of seeing the offensive momentum gradually extinguished by Lumar's superior firepower and terrain.

Every second that passes means more lives are lost and the offensive power is waning.

His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, his nails digging into his palms, but the stinging pain was nothing compared to the anxiety in his heart.

Now he understood the immense pressure that commanders leading large-scale battles had to endure on the battlefield.

The deaths of those people, each one adding a mountain-like weight to one's nerves.

Anyone with even a slightly weaker will would have collapsed long ago.

"Alexander calling! 'Razor' has reached the combat zone airspace! Requesting sortie orders! Repeat, requesting sortie orders!"

The MiG-23 pilot Alexander's anxious roar came through the communicator again, with the deep, furious roar of the engine in the background, like a beast that had been suffocating in the darkness.

Song Heping did not reply immediately.

His eyes, like the most sophisticated radar, repeatedly scanned the situation transmitted back by the "Sky Eye" satellite imagery.

The depth of Lumar's forces...

Spectral diagram representing air defense fire density…

High-risk red dots representing SAS special operations teams…

Suddenly, his eagle-like pupils contracted sharply! The deadly red dots on the edge of the screen, marked with SAS guidance groups and man-portable air defense missile groups, had clearly changed their positions!
Moved!

They've finally been mobilized!

The vast majority of them, which had previously maintained a fairly even state of alert, clearly and in clusters moved towards the boiling sea of ​​blood on the right flank of the limestone cliffs! Like a school of sharks attracted by the smell of blood, they were all sucked into the night sky on the right flank!

"1 minute and 55 seconds remaining in the 'Sky Eye' window!"

Henry's voice, hoarse with despair, rang out like a death knell. The bright red countdown numbers on the screen, dripping like blood in the dimly lit command post, pulsed mercilessly, a knife hanging over everyone's hearts, the eyes of God closing in the darkness!
Now! Darkness is a double-edged sword. The enemy's eyes were completely drawn to the night battle on the right flank, and a deadly gap was torn in the anti-aircraft net!
This is a one-time, fleeting opportunity!

it's time!

A terrifying glint flashed in Song Heping's eyes. All his scheming, all his patience, and all the intelligence he had risked his life for were now twisted into a ruthless force that soared to the sky!
He grabbed the encrypted communication microphone, his voice booming like thunderclaps, exploding in the narrow, dimly lit command post, each word carrying sparks:
"'Razor'! 'Razor'! Attack! Target—'Alpha Wolf'! Coordinates XXXXX! Attack! Kill it! One blow to the death! For victory! Strike—!"

Behind the Lumar position, in a well-camouflaged observation post, the SAS team leader, codenamed "Shepherd," was intently watching the bloody tug-of-war on the limestone highlands through high-magnification low-light/thermal fusion night vision goggles.

Government soldiers surged forward like a tide, leaving behind layers of cold, burning corpses under intense fire, just as the tide receded.

His headphones were filled with the static of Lumar's troops at the front lines crying out for help and reporting casualties, which was especially clear in the dead of night.

"Caesar Team 2 reports: No abnormalities found in low-altitude infrared scan on the right flank. Blowpipe gunner has a clear field of vision, and thermal imaging is stable."

A calm voice came from one of the team members.

"Roger. Keep surveillance on. Nighttime is the Mig Rats' favorite time for infiltration; remain highly vigilant."

The captain responded calmly, his voice carrying a professional composure and a hint of wariness towards potential threats.

As an experienced special forces commander, he instinctively carried out Lumar's orders, focusing primary air defense attention on the most stressful right-wing night skies.

This is the logic of the battlefield.

However, just as he moved the heavy observation scope and swept it across the relatively calm left flank and frontal depth, where only sporadic heat signals were visible, a very subtle and fleeting sense of unease, like a cold snake, quietly slithered down his spine.

The right wing is too "hot," drawing all the "attention."

So……

What about other places?
Especially that overlooked low-altitude blind spot near the rear of the command vehicle?
Under the cover of night, isn't the place eerily quiet?

He subconsciously moved the crosshairs of the observation mirror towards the command vehicle. In the thermal image, the huge wheeled container was a stable heat source outline.

Lumar's order was very clear: keep a close watch on the right flank at low altitudes.

As an "assistant," he has no right to question, much less to arbitrarily allocate precious air defense resources.

But the battlefield intuition honed through countless nighttime infiltrations and hunts sharply sounded the alarm.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his finger twitched slightly, and he almost ordered a certain group to shift their detection direction slightly towards the command vehicle.

Just then, at the edge of the observation scope's field of view, a government army position on the limestone highlands that was about to collapse suddenly exploded with dense muzzle flashes and grenade fire!

The heat signal is flashing violently!
"Kaiser Team Three! Area D7 is under emergency! Heat signature indicates a small enemy force infiltration! Requesting fire support at the coordinates!"

The urgent report abruptly interrupted the shepherd's thoughts.

The SAS captain's attention was immediately drawn back to the urgent need for combat.

That nascent sense of vigilance was overwhelmed by more direct and specific threats.

He quickly made a decision to refocus all his energy and resources on air defense and fire control on the right flank.

That fatal gap was briefly and completely ignored due to his professional focus, the constraints of his commander's orders, and the distraction of the sudden situation.

A fatal fraction of a second weighs more than a thousand pounds on the scales of war.

Airspace outside the combat zone.

"'Razor' received! Strike immediately—!"

In the communications channel, Alexander's wild roar was instantly drowned out by the terrifying shriek of the MiG-23's engine afterburner tearing through the air at full blast!
The roar sounded exceptionally clear and violent in the dark night sky!
At extremely low altitudes southwest of the rift valley, a MiG-23, with all its navigation lights off, suddenly appeared like a ghost!

It clung tightly to the undulating desert surface, less than 100 meters above the ground, using the folds of the terrain and radar clutter as cover, and sped forward at near-maximum speed!

The fuselage's unique variable-sweep wings sweep back completely at high speeds, forming an incomparably sharp triangular blade of death that pierces the cold night wind.

Beneath the fuselage, two massive Kh-23 air-to-ground missiles, illuminated by the faint red light of the cockpit instrument panel and the sporadic flashes of explosions below, reflected a cold, merciless gleam of death.

Alexander pushed the throttle lever all the way down, and the Tumansky R-35-300 engine roared deafeningly, almost like an explosion!

The powerful thrust slammed him hard into the ejection seat, and the machine shuddered violently at its maximum speed.

Sweat soaked through the flight suit, making it cold and sticky.

On the rudimentary terrain-matching radar screen in the cockpit, the coordinates of the target points flashed a deadly red light.

But Alexander did not need to rely on it entirely.

His bloodshot eyes were fixed on the radar warning receiver (RWR) and the dim horizon ahead. In the violently turbulent vision, the radar reflection and outline of the huge, wheeled command module were rapidly magnified!
The darkness was the sharpest weapon in his surprise attack, and the key to victory!

"Go to hell and eat shit, you bastard!"

He roared into the cold, dark cockpit, filled with soaring hatred and the ecstatic joy of impending success, and slammed his right thumb down hard and decisively on the missile launch button!
laugh--!
laugh--!
Two short, deadly explosions! Two thick plumes of white smoke, like the breath of a hellish beast, instantly billowed out from under the belly of the MiG-23!

The solid rocket motor of the Kh-23 missile ignites...

The fiery tail flames drew two incredibly dazzling, straight trails of death across the pitch-black night sky.

Like two steel snakes, completely enraged and broken free of their chains, the missiles, carrying destructive kinetic energy and guidance signals, detached from their pylons and hurtled with near-straight trajectories toward the massive target that was clearly visible as a bullseye on low-altitude visibility and radar screens—the Lumar brigade command vehicle.

(End of this chapter)