Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 233: Suffering from a Bronchitis
The temporary lighting tower was blindingly bright.

Military trucks were parked on the side of the road, and Ugandan soldiers who had been unloaded were now setting up a perimeter around the hotel.

A white man in a short-sleeved shirt stood among them, with high cheekbones, a bald head, and a bluish stubble.

"Where is your assault team?" His voice was filled with barely suppressed anger.

The three Ugandan officers exchanged glances but did not answer immediately.

"Some of the president's personal guards have been called over," a major wearing a beret whispered at the end, "but command is still waiting for orders."

“Listen,” the white man took two deep breaths, trying to calm his agitation, “I don’t care what your superiors say, the situation can’t drag on any longer.”

“Your men haven’t received complete close-quarters combat training,” he said bluntly. “Light, reflections, and acoustic interference can all cause problems.”

"However, your enemy is not special forces either."

"so--"

The white man pointed to the hotel's glass curtain wall as he spoke, "When you break in, cut off the main power first."

"Use M203 to create an entry point, then search layer by layer in groups, the faster the better, while there's still time."

The major didn't respond, silently lowering his head to smoke.

As the smoke rose, his gaze shifted, making it impossible to discern whether he was nervous or hesitant.

Seeing that direct pressure had limited effect, the white man patiently tried a different approach to persuade them.

"Africa Command assigned us to provide mission support on behalf of JSOTF-TS."

"The current situation is far-reaching and involves much more than just your internal security."

“Once the footage is leaked, the higher-ups will definitely hold people accountable, and it won’t just stop at your commander level—at that time, you, me, everyone will pay the price.”

Upon hearing this, the major hesitated for a moment, then finally shook his head. "I'm sorry, the commander-in-chief hasn't given his approval yet, so we can't proceed."

After finishing speaking, he looked at the white advisor and earnestly explained:
"Most of the hostages inside are foreigners, French, and you Americans."

"I understand your position, but please understand mine too—"

"A hasty attack would result in widespread casualties."

The major stopped there, sighed, and said softly:

"Sir, I have a wife and four children; I can't let them take the risk."

The white man stared at him without saying a word.

After a while, he took out his earphones, put them on, and changed the channel.

There was static coming from the other end, interspersed with local dialect and tactical terminology.

The white man frowned and turned to look at the armored vehicle behind him.

At the top, the M240B was mounted, its lights flickering, while the other advisors sat by the cockpit, showing no intention of getting down.

Just then, a Ugandan soldier came running up, shouting something as he ran.

The major's expression immediately changed.

The white man frowned, not fully understanding.

".EMERGENCY EXIT?"

"Make him explain more clearly."

The soldier, panting heavily, first glanced nervously at the major before slowing his speech and saying:
"Three people, dead, on the side of the hotel, in the staff passage."

The white man finally understood and couldn't help but curse, "Fuck."

Immediately afterwards, he lowered his voice and said to the major:
"Do you know what this means? More unknown variables."

“We’re about to lose control,” he said. “Then it will be a massacre.”

The major was still hesitant. "We can't just rush in like this."

The white man's Adam's apple bobbed as he stared silently at the tall building.

The glass reflected the city's scattered lights, as if it were some kind of warning.

“We don’t have time,” he said.

As if in response to his words—

Instantly, all the lights in front went out.

The entire block was plunged into darkness.

The next second, a faint gunshot rang out.

The white man was so shocked he almost jumped up on the spot.

He turned his head decisively and yelled at the major, "Give the order now, or we're all done for."

The other party was also stunned by this sudden turn of events. He gritted his teeth, struggled for two seconds, and tremblingly pulled out his radio.

Meanwhile, in the hotel lobby restroom, a man was squatting on the toilet, his face deathly pale.

Everything around was obscured, and all that could be heard were increasingly loud roars and explosions.

He placed the pistol on his lap, trying to keep himself steady.

The man tried to count his breaths, but the noise rendered it all futile.

He heard gunshots, shouts, and footsteps outside the corridor, sometimes near, sometimes far.

Something hit the wall, like overturned furniture or a corpse falling to the ground.

The man stared wide-eyed, forcing himself not to think about the horrific scene outside, not to think about how people were dying.

Everything seemed to freeze.

He could even hear the sound of water droplets dripping onto the tiles.

suddenly--

"Boom, boom, boom."

Hold for a second.

"Boom, boom."

The man was stunned.

“It’s me,” Zhou Yi said calmly.

The door opened a crack, and the emergency light shone in, illuminating his face.

"give it to me."

The man quickly handed over the pistol.

Zhou Yi took it, tucked it behind his waist, and then stuffed a hastily torn piece of paper into his hand.

"Find a safe place, memorize this mailbox, and then burn it."

"It's a pleasure to meet you here, Mr. Li."

Before the man could say anything more, Zhou Yi pushed him outside.

"Now, before they can react."

"Walk with your back bent and move quickly."

The man carefully slipped out of the window, and as soon as he landed, he clung to the wall and crawled along the alley.

The firefight continued, though at a slower pace than at the beginning, with intermittent bursts of muffled thuds occasionally heard.

During the riot, two thugs were escorted out with their hands tied behind their backs.

There were mostly corpses and wounded people lying on stretchers. Blood seeped into the soil, and footsteps left a mess.

Under the cover of darkness, the man tried to appear calm and blended into the crowd, not daring to reveal anything unusual.

His shoulders were tense, and he gripped the note in his pocket tightly.

Just as he was about to leave, a hand reached out from the side and grabbed him precisely.

“Sir,” a Ugandan soldier stared at him, “are you injured?”

The man paused for half a second, then quickly shook his head, "It's okay, I'm fine."

The soldier seemed unconvinced. "You look very weak. Are you sure you're not injured?"

“No, I’m really fine,” the man forced a smile. “Thank you, really.”

“Okay.” The soldier shrugged and released his grip.

The man let out a long sigh and quickly walked away into the distance.

Only when he was completely safe did he dare to stop and look back.

The hotel's glass curtain wall shattered.

There were shadowy figures moving about on the second floor, dressed in Ugandan army uniforms.

Smoke billowed from the left wing; it was unclear whether it was embers from the explosion or someone had lit a fire on the spot.

The pungent smell of tears, blood, and corpses mingled together, lingering and ever-present.

He saw desperate faces, men and women, adults and children, wandering in the scorched earth and mud.

And that person
That mysterious person.
Disappeared.

　I expect to be very busy for quite some time, so there may be grammatical errors and typos in what I write. I will revise everything once things are settled. I apologize very much.
　　
　
(End of this chapter)