Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

The Song Dynasty took a step forward.

The shield formation directly in front remained stationary.

The shield bearers' hands were trembling as they gripped their bulletproof shields, but they had not received orders to retreat.

Their commander was hung behind Song Chao, and no one gave them orders.

Should we move aside, or block them?

To move aside would be to disobey military orders.

To stop them would be to send the commander to his death.

Who should make this decision?

Nobody dared to do it.

The shield formation froze in place.

Song Chao raised his right hand, and the blood shield beside him trembled violently.

The blood chain wrapped around Song Mingcheng's waist suddenly tightened, and Song Mingcheng groaned, feeling as if his ribs were about to be broken.

The blood-stained blade around his neck also moved forward a millimeter.

The knife tip pierced the skin, penetrating from the epidermis into the dermis, and blood gushed from the wound.

I said move aside.

The voice of the Song Dynasty was calm and cold.

Song Mingcheng finally couldn't hold back anymore.

He dared not pretend to be dead anymore.

As the blood chain around his waist tightened, the blade around his neck went deeper and deeper.

If he doesn't make a sound, his ribs will break and his trachea will be pierced.

"Get out of the way! All of you, get out of the way!"

He roared.

Because the blade was pressed against his neck, his muscles could not move.

His voice, strained out of his throat, was muffled and hoarse, as if someone were covering his mouth while he shouted.

"Everyone, listen up! Stand back! Everyone stand back! Make way for him! No shooting! No one is allowed to fire!"

His voice echoed in the night sky.

The soldiers in front of the shield formation looked at each other in bewilderment.

This is Song Mingcheng's voice.

They recognized them.

This is their supreme commander.

The supreme commander has ordered them to make way, so is it still necessary for them to block the way?

The shield bearers at the very front retreated to the sides first, followed by the others.

The shield formation split open in the middle, parting like a tide to create a passage about five meters wide.

Song Chao walked step by step toward the passage, dragging eight hostages along the gravel road.

Behind him, eight hostages were suspended in mid-air by blood chains, with chains around their waists and blades hanging from their necks, swaying slowly in the night wind with his steps.

Song Mingcheng was hung at the very front, facing the back of the Song Dynasty.

You can clearly see the dried bloodstains on the back of Song Chao's head and the dark red blood crust that has congealed on his tattered work clothes on his back.

His teeth were chattering as he tried to perform at his best in this situation.

At the same time, he knew that after today, whether he lived or died, it would all be over, but at least he wasn't dead yet.

Among the hostages hanging behind Song Chao, one of them suddenly moved.

His name is Sun Guangbin. He is the Chief of Staff of the Zhaoming City Garrison Command, holding the rank of Major, and is responsible for the troop deployment in this encirclement and suppression operation.

He was the lowest-ranking of the eight kidnapped commanders, but also the most courageous.

He is 42 years old this year. He served in the border defense force for eight years and then worked in the security force for ten years after being transferred to civilian work.

When he was choked by a blood-stained blade and bound by blood chains, his first reaction was the same as everyone else's: fear, and he froze.

But after the fear subsided, anger began to rise.

He had served in the army for twenty years and had never been humiliated like this before.

Like a sheep waiting to be slaughtered, it was suspended in mid-air, hanging behind its enemy as a shield.

What angered him even more was Song Mingcheng.

The supreme commander of this operation has not uttered a single word since being kidnapped; he has only pretended to be dead.

He didn't have this attitude when he ordered the firepower to kill three hundred unconscious comrades.

Sun Guangbin was positioned slightly to the left behind Song Chao, which allowed him to see Song Mingcheng's profile.

Song Mingcheng was panting heavily, blood still seeping from the wound on his neck where the blade had slashed him, but the look of relief on his face disgusted Sun Guangbin.

His right hand quietly reached towards his waist.

He still had the holster on his waist.

When he was entangled by the blood chain, it wrapped around his waist and abdomen, including the holster, but it didn't take away his sidearm.

The blood chain has loosened slightly now because Song Chao is walking, and his steps cause subtle changes in the tension of the blood chain, creating a small gap in the chain around his waist.

Sun Guangbin's fingers dug into the edge of the holster and slowly pulled the sidearm out.

His movements were so light that they made almost no sound.

His heart was pounding, but he tried to keep his breathing steady so as not to give any indication of anything unusual.

He raised his head and glanced at Song Chao's back.

Song Chao continued walking forward, his back to him, showing no sign of turning back.

opportunity.

He thought to himself.

As long as he draws his gun and fires a shot at the back of Song Chao's head, even if it's just a single hit, it will create an opportunity for his comrades in the encirclement to kill him.

Even if he dies, it's worth it.

He was a soldier, and he would rather die on the front lines than be used as a shield or a rag.

Sun Guangbin's fingers gripped the gun handle.

He used all his strength to pull it out, and the pistol slid out of its holster.

He raised his hand, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

The movements were completed in one smooth motion.

But just as his finger touched the trigger, the blood-stained blade hanging beside his neck suddenly moved.

The knife tip dipped down and slashed across his left carotid artery.

The sharp blade cuts through the skin, the subcutaneous fat, the muscle layer, and the wall of the carotid artery.

Where the blade passed, blood gushed out of the wound like a fountain.

Sun Guangbin's eyes widened suddenly.

He opened his mouth to shout, but his throat was filled with blood.

The gun fell to the ground from his hand, and he covered the wound on his neck with both hands, dark red blood gushing out from between his fingers.

His carotid artery was completely severed.

Blood flowed down his neck, soaking through his military uniform and dripping down his trouser legs.

He felt his vision begin to blur, and the Song Dynasty figure in front of him grew farther and farther away, darker and darker, as if his eyes were covered by a red cloth.

He tried to say something, but only gurgling sounds came from his throat.

Then his head drooped, his hands slid off his neck, and he was hanging on the blood chain. His body was still twitching slightly, but he no longer showed any vital signs.

Blood kept dripping down his neck, making a dripping sound on the gravel road.

All of this happened in less than a second.

Everyone around saw it.

The soldiers behind the shield formation saw Sun Guangbin draw his gun, saw the bloody blade slice across his neck, saw blood gushing out, and saw his body twitching on the blood chain.

"Staff Officer Sun!"

At the front of the shield formation, a young team member roared, his eyes instantly turning red.

He and Sun Guangbin both came from the border defense forces and had known each other for nearly ten years.

He saw Sun Guangbin's body hanging on the blood chain, blood still gushing from the wound on his neck, and he was almost about to burst out.

The captain next to him grabbed him.

"Don't be impulsive! Even if you rush in, Staff Officer Sun won't survive!"