Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 982 The Deadly Desert

The night in the desert city was dyed a sickly orange-red by artillery fire and incendiary bombs.

The air was scorching hot, the smoke from gunpowder was pungent and acrid, and mixed with the stench of blood and construction dust, forming a suffocating fog.

Gunfire, like a relentless downpour, poured in from all directions, tracer rounds weaving a deadly web of fire amidst the ruins.

In the basement of a half-collapsed municipal building in the west of the city, General Haftar's last stronghold, the atmosphere was as heavy as lead.

Under the flickering emergency lights, dozens of faces stained with blood and dust were filled with despair and exhaustion.

The suppressed groans of the wounded were the only background noise.

Song Heping knelt in front of an open city map, his finger heavily tapping a certain area in the southwest corner, his fingertip almost piercing the paper.

"here!"

His voice was hoarse yet possessed a resolute and penetrating power, drowning out the noise outside.

"The GNA's main force has been drawn away by our feint attack to the east. The southwestern outskirts are occupied by their newly acquired militia battalions, which are poorly equipped, poorly coordinated, and have the weakest defenses! This is our only way out!"

General Haftar sat leaning against the corner of the wall, one arm wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage, his face ashen, but his eyes still sharp.

He stared at the direction Song Heping was pointing and slowly nodded: "Crossing to the southwest... there's the vast Gobi Desert... further south..."

He took a breath, his voice carrying a faint glimmer of hope.

"...It's the Sahara...cross it...and you'll reach the border...and then you'll find the road to North Darfur!"

"clear."

Song Heping stood up, his gaze sweeping over the "disaster" squad members and the remaining officers present with the sharpness of a hawk.

"'Viper,' 'Anvil,' take your men and gather the last two RPG-7s and all anti-tank grenades! Target—southwest corner roadblock and possible armored targets! 'Wrench,' 'Medic,' organize all mobile wounded and prepare to follow closely! 'Hunter'…"

He looked at the hunter, whose head was covered in bandages but who was still stubbornly holding on.

"You are in charge of the core of the general's personal guard, and you must stay by his side at all times!"

"Yes, boss!"

The response was weak but firm.

"action!"

Song Heping let out a low growl, grabbed the HK417 leaning against the wall, and pulled the bolt. The crisp metallic clang was particularly clear in the oppressive space.

The breakout has begun.

Like a wounded pack of wolves, they crept through the burning ruins of the city.

Song Heping charged ahead, his figure appearing and disappearing in the shadows of broken walls and rubble. Every pause and every gesture precisely directed the team to avoid sniper fire from above and the flanks.

The shouts of GNA militants and the distinctive "rat-a-tat-tat" of AK-47 fire were incessant.

Bullets whizzed as they struck the bricks and stones beside him, sending sparks and debris flying.

"Three o'clock! Rooftop! Machine gunner!"

The roar of "Iron Anvil," a mercenary in the special operations platoon, was like thunder.

Almost simultaneously, a PKM general-purpose machine gun mounted at a second-floor window spewed fire, raining down bullets that instantly shattered a low wall in front of Song Heping, sending stone chips flying. Two Haftar soldiers groaned and fell to the ground.

"suppress!"

Song Heping rolled behind a load-bearing pillar, and the HK417 was instantly set up, firing short, precise bursts of fire at the edge of the window, forcing the other man to duck.

"'Viper'! RPG! Send him to heaven!"

"Viper" had already hoisted the launcher, and the moment "Anvil's" PKM general-purpose machine gun roared deafeningly and temporarily suppressed the enemy's firepower with a dense barrage, he suddenly leaned forward and pulled the trigger!
boom--!
The rocket, trailing an orange-red plume, precisely pierced the window, exploding into a blazing fireball! The machine gun went silent, and shattered bricks and human remains were flung out by the blast wave.

"Rush over!"

Song Heping leaped up and led the charge toward the breach that had been blasted open.

The team roared and charged forward, braving the stray bullets and treading on scorching rubble and the corpses of their comrades.

The southwest corner was in sight! A makeshift roadblock made of sandbags, abandoned vehicles, and barbed wire stretched out in front of them, with dozens of GNA militants looming behind them, firing wildly from their cover.

To make matters worse, an armed pickup truck equipped with a DShK 12.7mm heavy machine gun was roaring in from the flank, its dark muzzle like the eye of death!

"Heavy machine gun pickup truck! Eleven o'clock position!"

The sound of the "wrench" was filled with terror.

"Damn it! An RPG!"

Viper picked up the launcher again, but just as a loader handed him the rocket, he was hit in the waist by a burst of heavy machine gun bullets. His upper body was almost shattered, and the rocket rolled to the ground.

Despair instantly enveloped them!

"cover me!"

With a roar, the burly "Anvil" threw away the PKM that had run out of ammunition and pounced on the rocket on the ground like an enraged rhinoceros!
Machine gun bullets chased after his heels, kicking up dust from the ground.

He grabbed the rocket, and without even looking at it, relying on his amazing arm strength and battlefield instincts, he threw it with all his might at the oncoming pickup truck, like throwing a javelin!

This is a completely suicidal gamble!

The rocket drew an imperfect arc in the air, but miraculously struck the sand in front of the pickup truck's hood!
Boom——!
Although the violent explosion did not directly hit the vehicle, the shockwave and debris instantly flipped the pickup truck over!
The heavy machine gun twisted and flew into the air, and the militants in the vehicle screamed as they were thrown out.

"Well done!"

Song Heping's blood boiled, and he immediately seized this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"Everyone! Grenades! Clear the way!"

The survivors rained down their last grenades—including defensive F1s and offensive RGD-5s—onto the GNA positions behind the barricades.

Boom boom boom boom——!
The continuous explosions blasted a huge gap in the roadblock, filling the air with smoke and screams.

"Charge out! Steal the car!"

Song Heping was the first to rush through the smoke-filled gap, his HK417 spitting fire as he accurately felled several enemies who tried to resist.

The team behind them surged through the roadblocks like a flood bursting its banks, heading towards the relatively open Gobi Desert.

There, a dozen military trucks belonging to the GNA militia battalion and several armed pickup trucks were parked, and the drivers and guards were frantically trying to start the vehicles and escape.

A close-quarters melee erupted instantly.

Bayonet, rifle butt, fist...

All available weapons became killing tools. Song Heping rushed to the driver's side of a truck. The driver had just pulled out a pistol when Song Heping shot him in the head through the window.

He opened the car door, pulled the body out, and jumped in himself.

"Wrench! Drive! Everyone else! Steal the car! Drive everything you can! Quickly!"

The roar of engines rose and fell in waves.

Haftar was shoved into the back seat of a truck by the "hunters" and guards.

The "Disaster" team members and remnants seized the vehicle as quickly as possible and killed or drove away the enemy guarding it.

An armed pickup truck attempted to reverse and escape, but was blasted into a fireball from the side by "Viper" using an RPG-7 launcher it had picked up.

In less than three minutes, twelve trucks and two still-functioning armed pickup trucks were seized!
Song Heping roared into the radio: "Due south! Full speed! Charge into the desert!"

Like a herd of startled wild horses, the convoy roared with engines, kicking up clouds of dust as it plunged headlong into the boundless, dark Gobi Desert in the south.

Behind them, the burning silhouette of the desert city grew smaller and smaller, but the gunfire and headlights of the pursuers, like leeches, were rapidly closing in from other directions. London, MI6 headquarters, strategic command center.

It was already past midnight. On the huge curved screen, the desert city was clearly displayed as seen from above by a thermal imaging satellite.

The green dots representing the GNA armed forces were densely packed, like an ant colony enveloping the city. In the southwest corner of the city, a blinding red arrow was piercing through the green encirclement at an alarming speed, rushing into the dark yellow area representing the Gobi Desert, and rapidly moving south.

"Target breached! Southwest defense line breached! They stole the vehicle! They're fleeing south!" A technician's voice, filled with disbelief and astonishment, broke the stagnant silence of the command center.

pat!

The pencil in Ms. M's hand broke.

She stared intently at the rapidly moving red arrow on the screen, her facial muscles twitching slightly with disbelief and astonishment.

The entire command center was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

All the analysts and technicians held their breath, their eyes shifting in terror between the glaring red dot on the screen and Ms. M's ashen face.

"Useless! Are all the GNA members swine?!"

Ms. M's voice suddenly rose, sharp as scratching glass, with an almost out-of-control hysteria.

"Surrounded on all sides! How could they let a remnant of the army slip through our noses?! And even steal a vehicle?!"

She suddenly slammed the pencil in her hand to the ground!
"Contact Saif! Immediately! Right now!"

Ms. M's chest heaved violently as she pointed at the red dot on the screen that was moving away from the desert city, her fingers trembling with anger.

“Tell him! If Song Heping is allowed to enter the Sahara Desert alive, Saif’s provisional government can forget about getting our support in the UN!”

The next day, noon.

The midday sun in the Sahara is a blazing ball of fire hanging overhead, relentlessly scorching the earth. The scalding air distorts the view, transforming the distant, undulating sand dunes into misty lakes.

Twelve dilapidated military trucks, like steel behemoths abandoned in a golden sea, lay silently on an ancient trade route almost buried by quicksand.

The hood was open, and the twisted and deformed metal radiated scorching heat, steaming up the last remaining moisture along with the burning sand.

There was a strange silence all around.

The only sounds were the whistling of hot air blowing through the gaps in the vehicle body, and the heavy, desperate breathing of the defeated soldiers inside and outside the vehicle.

Song Heping jumped out of the cab of the lead truck, his boots making a soft "hissing" sound as they hit the sand, as if he were stepping on a red-hot iron plate.

His face was covered with a thick layer of sand and dust, and sweat had carved several lines on it, which were then quickly dried by the sun.

He strode toward the second car, where "Wrench" was half-peeking into the engine compartment, holding an almost empty plastic oil can, his face showing undisguised despair.

"Boss... there's not a drop of oil left."

The sound of the wrench was dry, like sandpaper scraping. "Damn it, we rushed out of the city too quickly last night, and at the oil depot... we didn't have time to pump out more barrels! This lousy road, with its soft sand, burned more than 30% more than usual!"

He slammed his oil-stained hand into the scorching hot car door, the sound echoing dully.

Song Heping didn't speak, his gaze sweeping over the convoy lined up in a row, paralyzed in the sea of ​​sand.

This was the last of their belongings that they had risked their lives to salvage from the desert city last night, containing the remaining hundred or so soldiers of Haftar's army, some wounded, and a meager supply of provisions.

They had originally hoped that these steel mules and horses would allow them to cross the border and enter the relatively familiar territory of North Darfur before the pursuers caught up.

Now, that hope has been completely extinguished as the last drop of diesel fuel has run out.

The map shows that the straight-line distance to the border is less than 100 kilometers.

But in the Sahara, this mere hundred kilometers is nothing short of an insurmountable chasm.

Hiking?

In the scorching midday heat, without enough water and food, and facing pursuers who could appear at any moment?

This is almost tantamount to mass suicide.

"General."

Song Heping walked to the middle of a truck.

Haftar was sitting in the shadow of the open carriage partition, his once resolute face now filled with exhaustion and dejection.

His arm was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage, and his eyes were somewhat unfocused.

"The car... is out of gas. It can't move."

Haftar's cloudy eyes shifted, gazing southwards as if they could pierce through the endless sea of ​​sand to see his homeland.

His throat bobbed, and he managed to utter only a hoarse syllable: "...Hmm."

Despair spread like a plague through the convoy.

The soldiers sat slumped in the scorching heat of the carriages or in the shadows beneath them, their eyes blankly staring at the blinding sky. Some futilely pounded on their empty canteens, producing hollow sounds.

The air was thick with the stench of sweat, blood, diesel fuel, and an even stronger smell of death.

"'Anvil,' take inventory of the remaining supplies! Especially water and ammunition!"

Song Heping's voice broke the deathly silence, carrying an undeniable coldness that forcefully pulled everyone out of the mire of despair.

"Doctor, check the condition of the wounded! Those who can walk, prepare to travel light! Those who cannot walk..."

He paused, not continuing, but the unspoken meaning was heavier than any words.

"'Calamity Star,' take a few men and go ahead to scout! South, north, and west! Watch out for the dune line!"

He quickly issued orders, his sharp eyes scanning the surrounding terrain.

The area is relatively open, with only some low sand dunes and severely weathered rocks, lacking ideal defensive positions.

Staying and holding out is tantamount to waiting for death.

We must move, even if it's on foot, we must move south!

"Boss, I estimate that the pursuers are no more than two hours away from us."

"Wrench" threw the empty oil drum onto the sand and looked at Song Heping with concern.

"I know."

Song Heping's voice was as dry as a desert. He looked up, squinting at the distorted southern horizon.

One hundred kilometers. The distance between life and death.

Just then, a faint whistling sound, different from the hot wind, came from the north.

"A jinx!"

Song Heping suddenly lowered his body, pressing his ears against the scorching sand.

The massive body of the "disaster star" immediately collapsed.

A few seconds later, he looked up, his face grave: "Engine sounds! Multiple vehicles! Direction...due north! Distance...about ten kilometers! Very fast!"

Pursuers!

It came faster than expected!

　Asking for a monthly ticket! Asking for a monthly ticket!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)