The Middle East: From War Correspondent to Middle Eastern Influencer

The pause in firepower during the reloading gave the guard hiding at the back of the vehicle an opportunity. He leaned out halfway and aimed his gun at Zheng Wuhen.

Wu Hen's brain didn't have time to think; relying entirely on instinct, he fell heavily to the left.

"Whoosh! Puff!"

A bullet grazed Wu Hen's left shoulder, tearing his camouflage uniform and leaving a deep, bone-revealing gash on his shoulder.

Blood gushed out instantly, flowing down his arm, and the burning pain made Wu Hen groan involuntarily.

"Damn it!" Wu Hen gritted his teeth, rolled on the ground, and endured the excruciating pain as he raised his rifle with one hand, locking the sights onto the guard's exposed lower leg outside the wheel.

"Bang! Bang!" Two precise bursts of fire.

The guard screamed as his calf was pierced through, and he involuntarily knelt on the ground, his upper body exposed to Wu Hen's view.

Without any hesitation, Wu Hen then accurately fired a bullet into his chest, ending his suffering.

[Post your check-in location: pickup truck. Inquire whether you wish to check in immediately.]

Wu Hen, clutching his bleeding shoulder and warily scanning his surroundings, ran towards the pickup truck, shouting, "Check-in!"

[Check-in successful!]

[Special reward: Minor self-healing ability.]

As soon as he finished speaking, Wu Hen felt a tingling warmth coming from the wound on his left shoulder, and the tearing pain was subsiding at an incredible speed.

He looked down and saw that the edge of the deep, bone-revealing blood groove, though still cracked, had stopped bleeding.

"Holy crap..." Wu Hen couldn't help but mutter, "Is this system trying to mold me into Wolverine?"

Although the wound has not fully healed, at least it has stopped bleeding.

"Boom! Buzzing!"

At the same time, Muhammad finally started the pickup truck. The rugged diesel engine roared and spewed out a thick plume of black smoke from the exhaust pipe.

"Wu! Get in the car! Their men are catching up!" Muhammad shouted, looking in the rearview mirror.

On the other side of the square, a dozen armed men, having heard the gunfire, rushed over, guns at the ready, and a hail of bullets began to hit the pickup truck.

Wu Hen pressed his hands on the partition of the carriage and flipped himself onto the back of the carriage.

He grabbed the handle of the DShK heavy machine gun and placed his feet on the vehicle floor, which was covered with spent shell casings.

His expert level of firearms knowledge allowed him to familiarize himself with the operation of this steel behemoth. He pulled the heavy bolt and fed a belt of ammunition into the chamber.

"Drive! Charge straight out!" Wu Hen roared.

Muhammad floored the accelerator, the pickup truck's tires screeched violently against the ground, and then it shot forward like a wild horse.

Wu Hen stood on the carriage, his hands gripping the trigger of the heavy machine gun tightly.

"Knock knock knock knock!"

A deafening roar echoed through the night sky as bullets swept across the pursuing militants.

This heavy firepower, used for air defense and anti-armor purposes, is a disaster when it hits a human body; the first few militants were instantly torn to shreds.

The powerful recoil caused the entire pickup truck to shake violently, and Wu Hen's hands were even slightly torn.

Amidst the frenzied roar of heavy machine guns, the pickup truck rampaged through the streets, smashing through two unguarded roadblocks before finally breaking free of the deadly neighborhood and entering the relatively empty suburban highway of Benghazi.

The night wind howled, and Wu Hen released the trigger of the machine gun, letting the scorching barrel emit white smoke in the cold wind. His tense nerves finally got a brief moment of relaxation.

The pickup truck sped along the highway for nearly an hour, and the sounds of gunfire all around had become very faint.

After they drove over a huge sand dune, a vast expanse of white tents came into view.

That was a refugee camp set up by the United Nations in Benghazi. The faint lights stretched out in the night, where tens of thousands of civilians displaced by war gathered.

"Wu, we've arrived! It's a refugee camp! We're safe!" Muhammad excitedly patted the steering wheel.

Wu Hen, however, was not so optimistic. He lay on the carriage, observing the perimeter of the refugee camp.

Suddenly, his gaze fell on a secluded corner on the edge of the refugee camp.

There were several unmarked heavy trucks parked there, and a group of fully armed mercenaries were directing some refugees to unload heavy, dark green wooden crates from the trucks.

With the help of the faint starlight, Wu Hen could clearly see the Russian and Chinese markings printed on the wooden box.

Wu Hen suddenly felt a sense of familiarity, for he had actually seen the characters of his hometown in this faraway Libya.

He was certain that the dark green wooden crates smelled of gunpowder.

These heavily armed mercenaries unloading goods on the edge of the refugee camp in the middle of the night could not possibly be transporting any humanitarian aid supplies.

"Wu, what are they doing? Are those relief supplies?" Muhammad asked somewhat naively, having also witnessed the scene.

"Don't look!" Wu Hen grabbed a tattered tarpaulin from the pickup truck bed and covered the conspicuous DShK heavy machine gun.

"Drive the car behind those ruins and hide it. This car is too conspicuous; we can't drive it in." Wu Hen pointed to a hill about 200 meters away from the refugee camp.

The two men hid the pickup truck and used the surrounding construction debris and sheet metal to create a simple camouflage.

Wu Hen tightly wrapped the five captured AK-47s and magazines in a rag, carried them on his back, and covered them with a large windproof jacket.

During this period, a well-preserved automatic rifle could be exchanged for several lives on the black market. One should not flaunt one's wealth; this was a basic rule for survival on the battlefield.

"Go to the central area; it's the most crowded and safest place," Wu Hen said in a low voice.

The outer areas are often the most vulnerable to stray bullets or looting by rioters, while the core areas of refugee camps usually have patrol points for peacekeeping forces.

The two struggled through the crowded streets, Wu Hen's right hand always under his coat, loosely gripping the hilt of his bayonet.

The refugees around them looked at them, especially at Wu Hen's huge backpack, their eyes gleaming with hunger and greed. But under the cold gaze of Wu Hen, most of them looked away.

After walking for about ten minutes, they finally arrived at the core area of ​​the refugee camp.

There's a makeshift medical tent here, with a long queue outside.

[Check-in Area: Core area of ​​the Benghazi UN Refugee Camp.]

[Should we perform basic check-in immediately?]

"Check-in".

[Check-in successful!]

[Item reward received: $1000 in cash.]

Wu Hen turned his head and looked at Muhammad, who was slumped to the side, looking exhausted.

"Mohammed, you used to be a translator and guide for our branch office. Are you familiar with the situation in Benghazi?"

Muhammad paused for a moment, then nodded: "I have quite a few informants in Benghazi, I know all sorts of people, what's wrong?"

Wu Hen took out two hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and handed them over.

"Go and find out what's going on in Benghazi, and see how the various armed groups are distributed in the city, especially the mercenaries."