Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

The remaining men were still standing, but the muzzles of their guns were shaking violently, and their aim had drifted off to who-knows-where.

Four armed helicopters in the air were also affected.

The Shura's mental shock spread upwards, and although the helicopter pilot was far away, he was still hit by the shockwave.

The illusion of a sea of ​​blood appeared in their vision at the same time. Although it lasted for less than two seconds, those two seconds were enough for them to release their fingers from the trigger, and the machine gun fire paused briefly.

Just those two seconds.

The ground beneath Song Chao's feet suddenly cracked open.

He shot out of the ruins like a cannonball, stepping over fallen shields and unconscious soldiers, and charged toward the command armored vehicle at an incredible speed.

Four blood shields spun wildly around his body, blocking all the stray bullets.

The crimson Asura behind him strode forward, leaving a crimson footprint with each step of his three-meter-tall body.

"Stop him!"

Song Mingcheng saw the rapidly approaching figure through the binoculars, and the smile on his face vanished instantly, replaced by terror.

"Stop him! Second line of defense! Third line of defense! Push up!"

But it was too late for his orders.

The Song Dynasty moved too fast.

He moved through the fallen shield formation, the blood shields deflecting all the stray bullets, while the Asura behind him occasionally unleashed a mental shock, shattering the defensive line that was trying to regroup.

Two kilometers.

1,500 meters.

One kilometer.

He was getting closer and closer to the command armored vehicle.

Song Mingcheng saw the eyes of the Song Dynasty through the telescope.

Those dark red eyes were staring intently at him.

He was filled with anger and murderous intent.

"All firepower! All firepower, aim at him! Stop him at all costs!"

Song Mingcheng roared, his voice exploding through the loudspeaker, his previous composure gone, replaced by overwhelming fear.

The attack helicopter regained altitude and opened fire again.

The snipers frantically pulled their triggers, armor-piercing rounds weaving a deadly net of fire across the night sky.

Two thousand soldiers from the second line of defense flanked the enemy from both sides, their guns all aimed at the blood-red figure moving rapidly across the battlefield.

But it was all too late.

The Song Dynasty had arrived at a point less than 100 meters from the command armored vehicle.

He looked up at the pale-faced commander on the armored vehicle.

The crimson Asura behind him also stopped, its three-meter-tall body standing behind him, dark red flames burning silently in its sunken eye sockets.

"You said you'd make me suffer the consequences of my refusal to listen to reason."

Song Chao spoke, and his voice clearly traveled across the battlefield and reached Song Mingcheng's ears.

"Now, I'm here!"

Song Mingcheng's hand holding the walkie-talkie was trembling violently.

He looked down at the blood-covered man a hundred meters away, at the three-meter-tall blood-red Asura behind him, and at the soldiers falling and the defenses collapsing all around him.

His lips moved for a long time, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Fear, like a cold hand, gripped his throat tightly.

The operation had only been underway for less than fifteen minutes.

The encirclement was broken by one person.

Song Chao stood less than 100 meters away from the command armored vehicle.

The crimson Asura behind him stood silently in the night, its three-meter-tall body completely blocking the searchlights from the armored vehicle, casting a shadow that seemed to envelop the entire command vehicle.

On the makeshift command platform atop the armored vehicle, Song Mingcheng's hand holding the walkie-talkie trembled violently.

He saw Song Chao raise his right hand.

Spread your five fingers.

He gently shook hands with the person on the command post.

Song Mingcheng felt as if an invisible hand was gripping his neck.

A blade made entirely of congealed blood hovered less than a centimeter in front of his throat, its tip almost touching his skin. The icy touch sent chills down his spine, making the hairs on his neck stand on end.

He dared not move.

He didn't even dare to swallow, because even the slightest movement of his Adam's apple could hit the tip of the knife.

He was flanked by three staff officers, with two guards behind him and a communications officer on each of his left and right sides.

Each of the seven men had a blood-stained blade hanging from their necks.

Those blood-stained blades were all identical in shape—about fifteen centimeters long, two fingers wide, single-edged, with blades so thin they were almost transparent, gleaming with a dark red cold light under the searchlight.

The hilts of the knives were not held in anyone's hands; they simply floated in mid-air, their tips aimed at each person's throat with millimeter-level precision. With just a thought from Song Chao, the seven bloody blades would simultaneously pierce the throats of seven people.

"Don't move."

The voice of the Song Dynasty was very soft.

But everyone on the battlefield heard it clearly.

The soldiers around the command post froze.

Their guns were still pointed at the Song Dynasty, their fingers still on the triggers, but no one dared to pull them.

Because their commander had a knife to his neck.

Among these eight people were the supreme commander of this encirclement and suppression operation, the deputy director of the operations department, the head of the communications command system, and the leader of the fire coordination group.

If all eight of them die at the same time, the entire encirclement will be paralyzed in command.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

Song Mingcheng finally regained his voice.

His voice was dry and hoarse, with an uncontrollable tremor.

"Everyone stay calm! No one is allowed to fire without my order!"

He dared not move the muscles in his neck when he spoke, as if someone was choking him.

The surrounding soldiers looked at each other in bewilderment.

Their orders were to kill Song Chao, and now Song Chao was right in front of them, less than a hundred meters away, with all the gun barrels pointed at him.

But their commander had a knife to his neck, so who dared to fire?

If you shoot at the Song Dynasty, you can take eight commanders down with you before the Song Dynasty dies.

No one can bear this responsibility.

Beneath the armored vehicle, Zhou Zhengyuan lay prone beside the ruins, holding a rifle with the muzzle pointed at Song Chao.

He had just been appointed captain of the core assault team by Song Mingcheng and was preparing to lead the charge when this unexpected turn of events occurred.

He saw all eight people on the command platform with their throats locked by the Blood Blade, and saw Song Mingcheng trembling in front of the Blood Blade. Suddenly, a very complex emotion welled up in his heart.

Two minutes ago, Song Mingcheng sat on the command platform, coldly saying that the three hundred unconscious team members had been killed by Song Chao, and ordered fire support.

Now it's his turn to have a knife to his throat.

Would he still say, "They've already been killed by the Song Dynasty, ignore them, continue the attack"?

More soldiers surrounded the command platform on both sides.

The shield bearers raised their bulletproof shields again, and the muzzles of their rifles and pistols were all pointed at Song Chao on the command platform. The sniper locked the crosshairs of his scope onto Song Chao's temple from the high vantage point.

Four armed helicopters hovered at an altitude of 200 meters, their cannons already reloaded, and the red dots of the infrared aiming system were densely scattered around the command post.

A net stretching to the heavens and the earth.

A true inescapable net.

Centered on the command armored vehicle, more than 5,000 fully armed soldiers gathered within a 500-meter radius, while a massive encirclement of 30,000 people formed a 3,000-meter radius.

But everyone could only watch helplessly.

Because the eight most important people are having seven bloody blades held to their necks.