The shriek of the Hellfire missile tearing through the air was the countdown to death.
Song Heping could even feel the oppressive force of the Grim Reaper speeding behind him.
There was no ti to think; in this critical mont, his body instinctively reacted—the muscles in his legs fired, launching himself towards the deep, dried-up trench ahead of the rocky shore, exhausting every last ounce of strength he had!
The world in his vision tilted and churned violently.
The coarse ground of the rocky shore scraped against his cheek, leaving a burning pain.
He landed heavily into the trench, crashing into the pebbled bottom, the impact causing his vision to darken and a splitting pain to shoot through an old leg injury, nearly suffocating him.
Curling up tightly, he clung to his head, pressing himself into the deepest shadows of the trench wall.
Now, it was a gamble for life!
BOOM——!!!
A violent wave of sound and scorching airflow slamd down above the trench!
The entire ground trembled.
Countless fragnts of rock, soil, and burning vegetation rained down like a storm, pelting the trench bottom and his curled form.
Dust mixed with smoke and so acrid burnt sll rushed into his nose and mouth, choking him into violent coughs. Every breath tasted of blood and fire.
Large chunks of soil from the trench edge were sheared off, landing near him with a heavy thud.
The world was reduced to deafening roars and a suffocating darkness.
Ti seed to freeze in the aftermath of the explosion.
Song Heping huddled tightly, his lungs expanding and contracting laboriously like a broken bellows, each movent pulling at his wounds.
Nevada Creech Air Force Base, drone control room.
On the large high-definition screen, the dust, smoke, and flas from the missile explosion looked like a dirty yellow mushroom cloud, roiling and expanding, smothering the dried-up trench and its surrounding area for dozens of ters.
The capability of the high-precision electro-optical probes to penetrate the smoke was severely hampered, and the display turned chaotic.
"Target area hit!"
The weapon control officer's voice carried a slight, barely noticeable tremor. He stared intently at the screen, fingers tapping unconsciously at the edge of the console.
"Target... target is in the explosion core area!"
The drone operator rapidly adjusted the controls, making the MQ-9 "Reaper" drone circle at a safe distance, with the high-precision electro-optical ball under its belly locked onto the churning death zone.
The cara continually switched modes, trying to discern any suspicious signs of life from the chaotic thermal blocks and thick smoke captured by the visible light caras.
"Zoom in! Zoom in for !"
The weapon officer's voice was hoarse.
The image was constantly zood in and sharpened.
The dust was slowly settling, and the smoke was being torn apart by the highland winds.
The edge of the trench was blasted into a large, blackened gap, the stones at the edge still smoldering.
The trench bottom was a ss, covered with thick ash and rubble.
Seconds ticked away.
In the control room, only the faint hum of equipnt and the heavy breathing of two people remained.
"Heat source! There's a heat source signal!"
The operator suddenly shouted, his voice raised in tension.
In the center of the thermal imaging on the screen, a faint, flickering red spot was struggling to move among the ash and rubble at the trench bottom!
Langley, CIA headquarters operations command center.
The large tactical screen was also displaying the real-ti footage returned by the drone.
Director Vincent stood motionless in front of the command platform, like a statue gazed upon by dusa.
Behind him, the staff and operations managers remained silent, the air seeming to turn into lead, heavily weighing down on everyone's chest.
The screen showed the faint but tenacious heat signal, like a ghost struggling in the fires of hell, capturing everyone's attention.
"Is he still alive?"
Finally, an agent couldn't help but whisper.
The voice was conspicuously clear in the deathly still command room, carrying a sense of absurdity bordering on fear.
Vincent didn't answer.
His eyes were fixed on the red spot representing Song Heping's life signs, the depths of his eyes behind the lenses brewing a storm.
Losing two Black Hawk special operations helicopters, each worth tens of millions of US Dollars, and nearly wiping out the most elite Delta and Rangers squads...
If after all this, the target escapes, or is rely "possibly alive"...
The Pentagon would likely point fingers and curse at him.
"Confirm! Target life signs are faint but existent! He's moving!"
The weapon officer's voice from Nevada Base ca through the encrypted channel, carrying a tone bordering on collapse.
Everyone in the command center felt their hearts sink abruptly.
On the screen, the red spot representing Song Heping began to move upwards with extre slowness, through the ash-covered trench!
Dust and ash slid off him like quicksand.
A hand, covered in blackened gri, its knuckles flesh-torn, gripped the edge of the trench's scorched earth loosened by the blast.
Followed by another hand.
Then ca half a body, dragging itself out of the ravine of death with an unyielding, almost inhuman tenacity that made one's teeth ache.
Song Heping stood once more on the rocky shore.
The close-range explosion of the Hellfire left him transford into a devil clawing back from the fiery pit.
His robe, shredded by the shockwave, hung in tattered and blackened fringes, exposing the skin beneath covered in abrasions, burns, and bloodstains.
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