The smoke hung heavy like a dirty shroud over the banks of the Dry Sand River.
At the second defense line, Song Heping leaned against a solid rock formation and removed the empty magazine from his SVD sniper rifle.
"Click!"
The latch made a light sound.
He pulled out a fresh, full magazine from the pouch on his tactical vest, expertly snapped it into the rifle's receiver, then slightly leaned out to extend the barrel, pressing his eye against the slightly softened rubber eye-piece of the PSO-1 scope.
In his view, hundreds of ters away, the 1515 ard militants had temporarily lost the courage for a mass assault, crowding together like a pack of hyenas.
This montary calm was ti for both sides to lick their wounds, and also the prelude to another brewing storm.
Song Heping's Adam's apple shifted slightly with difficulty, his chapped lips silently moving as if gathering the last bit of saliva. He tugged the hose from his water pouch into his mouth and took a few sips—though not too much, as drinking excessively under the scorching sun could lead to excessive sweating and loss of electrolytes. Besides, if he drank too much, his bladder would be full of urine, and a nearby shell explosion might just shake it all out.
He did not dare relax his vigilance by a shred, his eyes scanning the opposite bank like an eagle for any suspicious movent.
Just then, there was an unusual stir on the 1515 ard militants' positions—the dust churned violently, and a sharp, strange whistle sounded, seemingly resembling a rallying call.
"Hmm?"
Song Heping's brows instantly knitted into a deadlock.
He held his breath, quickly adjusting the scope's magnification to focus the view in the direction of the sound—an open sandy area behind the southern shore position.
What he saw sent a chill creeping up his spine.
Hundreds of militants were gathering.
They were starkly different from those disorganized ordinary soldiers from before.
Uniform black attire, tightly wound black headbands around the forehead with religious inscriptions like "The gates of Heaven are open" hastily painted in white.
Their eyes were terrifyingly empty, as if their souls had already departed, leaving only a morbid yearning for death.
All lined up on the sand, kneeling toward a certain direction.
Lips moving silently, reciting words, as if performing their final prayers, or putting themselves in a trance, as if conducting a ritual.
More spine-chilling were their "decorations"—bundles of TNT explosives, connected hand grenades, covering their backs like an exoskeleton; or wearing simple yet deadly explosive vests, with the fuse's pull ring in the most conspicuous position on their chest.
Leading them were a few priests in black robes waving green flags like overseers from Hell, prowling back and forth among the ranks, inciting with hoarse voices, whipping anyone who moved too slowly.
The supervisory troops in camouflage, wielding automatic weapons, stood coldly on the periphery, their gun barrels barely visibly pointing toward these freaks' backs.
"Martyrs..."
Song Heping squeezed out these three words through clenched teeth.
"Samir! Naxin! Everyone be on alert! The opposition is going all out! They are 'Martyrs'! Prepare to face the onslaught!"
His voice suddenly rose with an undeniable decisiveness that instantly shredded the short-lived peace.
The air on the frontline solidified, even the breathing beca cautious.
Not afraid to fight, but facing those who charged purely for death, using self-detonation as a ans—a human bomb sea—a primal fear from biological instincts uncontrollably spread in everyone's minds.
"For Heaven! For the eternal paradise! For seventy-two sacred C won! Charge——!!!"
A command piercing the sky, as shrill as a night owl's cry.
Instantly, those five hundred "Martyrs" moved.
It wasn't a charge; it was a collapse!
It's a breaking black tide!
They opened the distance between each other, avoiding being blown up by each other during self-detonation, then like a moving net, they charged toward the second line.
Each person's mouth emitted deafening roars, voices devoid of anger, pain, only a chilling, ecstatic frenzy for destruction.
"Open fire! Open fire! Full interception! Stop them! Don't let them approach!" Samir's voice exploded in the throat microphone, entirely changed, full of unprecedented apprehension.
The PKM machine gun in his hand was the first to spew fire, roaring like ripping fabric.
The northern bank position boiled instantly!
All weapons capable of spewing death bellowed!
"Dada-dada-dada-dada——!"
The PKM general-purpose machine gun's ammo belt danced madly, scorching shells cascading down like a golden waterfall.
"Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom——!"
The DShK heavy machine gun's dull, powerful thunder sounded like Grim Reaper's war drum, 12.7mm heavy rounds easily shredding human bodies.
"Whoosh——Bang!"
RPG missiles trailing flas scread into the dense crowds, throwing sand waves mixed with flesh.
"Bang-bang-bang——!"
AKM assault rifles' firing sounds ford a sheet as the Suicide Squad mbers pulled the triggers to the end, eyes reddened!
Bullet casings ejected from the ejection window, fuming white smoke as they clanged to the sand.
The death net ford by the "Martyrs" instantly covered the riverbed.
The leading "Martyrs" seed to be swept away by an invisible giant sickle, toppling down and exploding in pieces.
Black uniform fragnts mixed with scarlet flesh splattered in the smoke.
However, the ones behind seed unaware of the hellish spectacle; they trod on their comrades' still twitching remains and blood-soaked scorching sand gravel, howling, continuing the charge!
anwhile, on their rear 1515 ard positions, all light and heavy firearms were unleashed, even small mortars were used, outputting firepower at the liberation militia Suicide Squad on the second defense line, providing suppression fire for the "Martyrs."
After paying such a dire price, unbelievably, the "Martyrs" continued to approach unstoppably!
Three hundred ters!
Two hundred and fifty ters!
Two hundred ters!
"Damn! Can't suppress them! These guys are maniacs! Not human!"
Naxin's facial muscles twitched.
As a Persian, it was also his first ti dealing with these 1515 extremists.
He had heard these guys were twisted.
But he didn't expect them to be this twisted!
In the past, he looked down on the Illiguo, thinking how could they let these extremists run rampant on their land, if it were him… hmph…
Now…
Naxin felt he had been arrogant before…
The barrel of the DShK heavy machine gun he was operating was already red-hot, emitting scorching waves of heat, and he could even see it slightly warping under the high temperature.
He grabbed his water bottle and poured the precious water on the barrel.
"Sizzle——!"
A piercing white mist rose up, only to be instantly evaporated by the heat.
The PKM machine gunner beside him also cursed in despair: "Jamd! Damn ammo belt!"
He frantically tried to clear the malfunction.
The firepower web inevitably showed signs of wavering and gaps!
That black tide of madness surged forward faster, like a school of piranhas slling blood!
180 ters!
160 ters!
150 ters!
Through the pervasive smoke, the "Liberation Forces" suicide squad mbers could even clearly see the eyes of the foremost enemies filled with an extre desire for death—not fear, but greed!
Greed for the glory of "martyrdom"!
A cold despair coiled around the hearts of many newly recruited suicide squad mbers like a Poison Snake.
They weren't afraid of a gunfight, or of a close-quarters battle, but facing these irrational, suicidal madn—seeing those distorted, fanatical, ever-closer faces—the biological fear of annihilation overwheld their will to fight.
The defense line began to crack on a ntal level.
"Hold on! Allahu Akbar! Hold on! Think of your families! Think of the land behind you!"
Samir's eyes were bloodshot as he threw down his jamd PKM and lunged to another machine gun, roughly shoving aside the nearly exhausted gunner to fire himself.
His voice was hoarse, tinged with blood.
But it was a drop in the bucket…
The black tide of death had pushed to 120 ters! The ghastly face of the foremost "martyr" was clearly visible, so even grinned maniacally as they reached for the pull ring of the fuse on their chest!
The defense line was already on the verge of collapse!
At this critical juncture!
"Shafar's brothers! Ali's brothers! Wait for !!!"
A thunderous roar suddenly exploded from a frontline foxhole.
A young militiaman nad Tariq leaped out like a cannonball!
He was covered in blood, his left arm hung limply at an odd angle, clearly broken by a bullet.
The scene of his comrades choosing to self-detonate with hand grenades at the last mont flashed in his mind, and with his arm broken, he knew he had no chance of survival today.
Rather than die, he would take a few with him!
At this mont, Tariq's face showed no fear, only determination!
With his only functioning right hand, he tore open his shredded shirt, revealing his muscular chest—tightly bound with blocks of TNT using tape and ropes.
Even more chilling, around his neck hung a full circle of RGD-5 grenades with their safety pins removed.
The fuse emitted a deadly hissing smoke!
"For Illiguo! Allahu Akbar——!!!"
His roar was like the final battle drum, as Tariq charged down the northern riverbank slope at astonishing speed, heading straight for the nearest, densest crowd of "martyrs" and pounced on one of them like a wolf despite taking several shots, and rolled down the sand slope with him.
And those following "martyrs" saw the two rolling towards them.
It all happened too quickly.
The "martyrs" never expected there to be soone more fearless of death than them in the militia.
Many didn't even have ti to react and could only keep firing at this rolling "human ball," forgetting to dodge.
The next second!
"Boom boom boom boom——!!!"
A terrifying bang beyond words!
A fireball more dazzling than the noonday sun suddenly erupted less than fifty ters from the Suicide Squad's frontline position.
Ti seed to freeze for a fra.
Then—
Centered on Tariq, everything within a thirty-ter radius was instantly torn to shreds by an unimaginable, violent energy.
Tariq and the unfortunate "martyr" turned into a cloud of flying particles!
The explosion triggered a chain reaction, affecting other "martyrs" nearby, with so even having their bombs set off directly.
Boom boom boom——
Boom boom boom——
Boom boom boom——
Enemies further away were thrown high into the air like strawn in a storm, their insides shattered, bleeding from every orifice, hitting the ground as twisted carcasses.
The dense, unstoppable black tide was forcibly blown apart, creating a vacuum zone over a hundred ters in diater!
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