Song Heping and the Chef exchanged a glance, each seeing the sa thing in the other's bloodstained, smoke-soiled face—unwillingness.
Silently, they adjusted their positions and checked the status of their weapons, preparing for the final monts.
Just like the Wagner mbers and governnt army soldiers who fought to their last breath around them.
Death was nothing more than a long sleep.
Thinking of this, Song Heping inexplicably laughed.
The Chef glanced at Song Heping and couldn't help but laugh too.
"I wonder... over at Jiang Feng's side... and with Arseny... how things are going..."
As he spoke, he gazed at the eastern sky, slowly lightening with dawn but shrouded in thick smoke, murmuring, "If... if they succeeded... and took out the enemy's stronghold... then our sacrifice... wouldn't have been in vain..."
Just as Song Heping was about to speak, a soft crawling sound reached them.
The Wagner observer, face covered in soot, sweat, and dry blood, bent low and crawled out from the building, moving towards them.
"What are you doing here?"
The Chef frowned.
The observer was a mber of the sniper team, responsible for observing enemy positions from a high point.
With the "Victory Front's" forces ready to launch another attack at any mont, leaving his post was essentially dereliction of duty.
"Boss..."
The observer's voice trembled with excitent and weakness, speaking rapidly.
"I... just saw over there... at one o'clock direction! About a kiloter away! The top of the tallest white governnt building! On the rooftop! There are people! With whip antennas! At least four or five of them! They've been watching us with binoculars! That's definitely a command hub! I suspect... I highly suspect it's a big fish!"
At this, the Chef perked up, struggling to sit upright but triggering his wound, causing him to suck in a breath of cold air: "Are you sure?! The distance?! Did you asure it correctly?!"
"Absolutely sure! I confird three tis with the laser rangefinder! 1024 ters! Error margin within five ters!"
The observer's tone was extrely confident but quickly turned dim, filled with frustration and helplessness.
"But... Andre... he was killed in the last round of shelling... I... I'm not confident... that distance... it's too far... the SVD... it's almost an impossible task..."
The design effective range of the SVD Dragunov sniper rifle is 800 ters, but that's for clustered living targets.
In fact, within 600 ters is required to ensure precise sniping of a single target.
Beyond 1000 ters?
The effects of wind deviation, humidity, temperature, Earth's curvature, and even the Coriolis effect are magnified to the extre!
This is beyond the accuracy scope of the firearm itself, more reliant on the shooter's extraordinary experience, feeling, and...
Luck!
Song Heping and the Chef exchanged a glance in an instant!
Both were experienced veterans and imdiately understood the significance and value of that observation point at this mont.
At a ti when attacks had failed and casualties were high, soone able to remain so "leisurely" at a safely distant high point behind the lines, directing the front, must have an extraordinary identity!
It is highly likely to be the top commander of the "Victory Front" in this attack—Abu Omar himself!
Seize the opportunity for a decapitation strike!
Perhaps it is also the only chance to turn the tide!
"Take to the sniper point! Quickly!"
Without any hesitation, Song Heping turned to the Chef and said, "You keep watch here, I'm going up to take a look."
With that, he crouched down with the sniper, using the ruins and smoke for cover, quickly and silently sneaking into the partially collapsed four-story building next door.
Climbing the shaky stairs to the rooftop platform.
The body of the fallen Wagner sniper Andre still lay quietly in his pre-selected sniping position, maintaining the shooting posture from the last mont of his life.
His well-maintained, sleek SVD sniper rifle lay silently beside him, the classic walnut stock resting against the concrete, its PSO-1 optical scope reflecting a cold light in the faint dawn.
Song Heping murmured a silent rest in peace, cautiously crawled over, gently took the Soviet-made sniper rifle, and began to quickly inspect it.
The bolt movent was smooth...
The rifling was intact...
The scope was undamaged...
There was also a magazine loaded with 7N1 special sniper ammunition.
He slowly moved to a larger hole blown open by previous shelling in the wall, offering a relatively open field of view, with good side cover and concealnt.
Quickly setting up the gun, he adjusted his prone position to be as comfortable and stable as possible.
Opening the lens cap of the scope, he pressed his right eye gently to the eyepiece.
His vision was instantly magnified, but the distant white governnt building still seed far and hazy at 4x magnification.
He slowly and ticulously moved the gun barrel, carefully searching the rooftop.
Soon, he caught sight of a few vague, moving figures! The distance was too far, and through the scope, he could only see rough silhouettes, but the action of using binoculars and directing, along with the respectful posture of those next to them, confird the observer's judgnt.
The reticle lines in the scope felt particularly cramped and inadequate at this 1000-ter distance.
"Wind direction... southwest, wind speed 4 ters per second, gusts up to about 6 ters... humidity..."
The observer beside him spoke in a fast, low voice, clearly reporting a series of crucial data.
Song Heping's brain worked like a computer at maximum speed, frantically processing this information—
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