Mercenaries, I Will Be King Chapter 1105 - 997: The Meat Grinder on Razorback2

The intense sll of blood was suffocating, the sand beneath his feet had already been soaked in layers of blood, turning viscous and warm, each step felt like a heart-wrenching suction.

Song Heping swept the corner of his eye over the tactical watch on his wrist.

The cold watch glass was covered with a mixture of sweat and sand gri, yet the hands were still clear: rely fifteen minutes had passed.

Fifteen minutes!

Fifty soldiers on the first line of defense, like beans thrown into a grinder, over thirty had already been swallowed!

The remaining ones, all injured, ammo more than half consud, their eyes filled not just with bloodshot, but more with a numbness and lifelessness near the brink of collapse.

If they continued fighting, there wouldn't even be a chance to retreat. Everyone would be pinned here, eventually overwheld and crushed by the enemy's follow-up forces.

"Wrench! Second line of defense, prepare for support!"

Song Heping's voice transmitted through the throat microphone, hoarse yet resounding, like a cold blade scraping each survivor's eardrum.

"First line of defense! Attention everyone! Alternate cover! Retreat! Retreat to the second line of defense! Hurry!"

The command was like an adrenaline shot.

The soldiers, already on the verge of collapse, exploded with their last instinct. The two soldiers closest to Song Heping suddenly leaned out from behind cover, their AK-74Ms spewing long tongues of fla, suppressing the few GNA infantry attempting to charge straight ahead.

Song Heping's PKM also roared again, the scorching stream of bullets sweeping over the damned Jackal armored vehicle like a shower, causing its turret to spark aggressively, forcing the machine gunner to withdraw.

"Go!"

Song Heping shouted at the seven or eight soldiers next to him who could still move.

The soldiers, like startled birds, scrambled and crawled out from behind their respective covers, bending over, dragging their wounded comrades, and staggered towards the higher ground of the rocky area behind.

Their movent was utterly disorganized yet carried the franticness of surviving disaster.

"Cover the retreat!"

Song Heping bellowed at the throat microphone, his PKM's muzzle incessantly bouncing, suppressing the enemy's fire points attempting pursuit.

The second line of defense deployed light and heavy machine guns and precision shooters also suddenly intensified their firepower, from the high ground weaving a fire net that temporarily curbed the enemy's pursuit montum.

Yellow sand kicked up by the fleeing soldiers, mixed with gunpowder smoke, ford a thin smoke screen.

Countless stray bullets whistled past them, striking rocks and sparking bursts of Mars. A soldier at the back groaned, a splash of blood blossod from his back, and he fell to the ground.

The person next to him didn't even have ti to look back, only charging forward more desperately.

Song Heping was the last to retreat.

He emptied the last dozens of bullets in the PKM ammo box, the scorching gun barrel hissing with steam, then suddenly rolled out from behind a rock, grabbing the heavy machine gun and the last remaining ammo box, his body bursting with extre strength, like a hunting leopard, charging toward the safety zone of the second line of defense.

Bullets chased his steps, carving deep marks in the sand behind.

When he heavily plunged into the solid rock cover pre-set by the second line of defense, his lungs burned hurtsoly, and sweat instantly drenched his back.

He gasped intensely, too busy to wipe away the blood and sweat blurring his vision, imdiately setting up the PKM, the muzzle locked firmly downward.

The first line of defense, profoundly silent now. Only the burning wreckage of vehicles, scattered weapons, and corpses sprawled out in various poses, steaming a nauseating air under the glaring sun.

That narrow entrance beca a genuine death funnel.

On the other side, Captain Don appeared much more relaxed.

His command vehicle parked at a relatively safe sloped sand dune.

The static sound of the radio mixed with the intense gunfire and cannon blasts ahead, continuously drilled into his buzzing ears.

"Captain! Report from Yarif!"

The communications officer's voice carried an uncontrolled tension, "We've broken through the enemy's first line of defense! But they've retreated to a higher and more treacherous second line! Our losses are trendous! Casualties exceed a hundred! The vanguard assault units…almost wiped out!"

Captain Don's bloodshot eyes fiercely fixed on the blurred battlefield situational map on the vehicle's terminal screen.

The red arrows representing his attack mob were pinned at the complex rocky entrance marked as "Razorback," the arrowheads flashing alarm red lights signifying intense clashes and casualties.

The blue markers representing the enemy's first line of defense had disappeared, but the second line's markers lit up, in higher and more complex terrain.

A hundred or more!

The first wave of more than three hundred assault troops nearly annihilated!

Still, only broke through one hastily constructed advanced defense line?

A chill mixed with deceived fury surged from Captain Don's tailbone to his skull.

With a heavy punch, he struck the command vehicle's cold tal interior, producing a muffled "thud."

"Useless! A bunch of useless!"

Captain Don's voice squeezed out from between his clenched teeth, carrying a Poison Snake-like hiss, "Song Heping! That damned Song Heping!"

He could almost envision that Oriental man at this mont hiding behind the rocks of the second line of defense, with those cold eyes mocking him.

Using those worthless old, weak, sick, and disabled as bait, firmly hooking his big fish on this damned death canyon!

Stalling for ti!

He must be stalling for ti!

Waiting for reinforcents?

Or preparing to slip away elsewhere?

A massive fear gripped Captain Don's heart.