He didn't linger over the general weapons, but went straight to the rack specifically displaying long-range weapons.
His gaze swept over a few rifles, finally landing on a Russian-made SV-98 sniper rifle.
This bolt-action rifle, firing 7.62x54mm R ammunition, was renowned for its excellent accuracy and reliability.
He picked up the gun, proficiently checking the barrel, bolt, and confird that a high-efficiency silencer was already attached to the muzzle—crucial for silent operations.
Then he picked up an AS "VAL" suppressed assault rifle as a secondary weapon.
This weapon, using specialized 9x39mm subsonic heavy bullets, with a silencer, produced almost only the sound of the bolt cycling, making it the perfect tool for silent sentry elimination and close-range self-defense.
He thodically placed several 10-round magazines for the SV-98 and 20-round magazines for the AS "VAL" into specific magazine pouches in his tactical vest.
In addition, he took a portable rangefinder, a worn-out map book filled with markings, and a few RGD-5 grenades for creating chaos.
He patted the cold body of the SV-98, and said to Song Heping in a low voice, carrying the sniper's characteristic calmness, "This is still the most reliable. Distance is the best guarantee."
Just as Song Heping was making final adjustnts to the straps of his tactical vest, the machine gunner "Iron Hamr" Volkov's rough voice rang out, with undisguised provocation: "Hey, Boss Song, I heard you have a private army of tens of thousands in the mountains? So, this ti you're risking your life with us on the SSO, and bringing along an old soldier who's about to retire?"
He nodded towards Hunter.
"Do you think we youngsters need an old babysitter watching over us?"
His words elicited a few stifled chuckles, especially from the assault trooper "Frost" Morozov, whose mouth curled with a more pronounced sardonic smile.
Hunter's eyes turned icy instantly, his right hand instinctively reaching for the gun handle.
But Song Heping's movent was quicker; he raised his left hand, making an extrely subtle yet unmistakably commanding gesture to stop.
He slowly turned, his gaze calmly sweeping over "Iron Hamr," then glancing over the faces of other team mbers with various expressions, finally fixing on Major Petrovsky, his tone flat but carrying an invisible pressure: "It's about quality, not quantity. I brought Hunter because in a specific environnt, what he can achieve surpasses a platoon of ordinary soldiers. As for a babysitter…"
Before he finished speaking, his right hand moved lightning fast; the HK416 on the table was already in his grip, and in a flash, he shouldered the rifle, aid, switched the firing mode, ejected the magazine, his left hand almost simultaneously drawing a new magazine from the chest rig, dislodging the empty magazine, inserting the new one, pre-pressing the trigger with his index finger, aiming again—the entire motion completed in under two seconds, leaving only a blurred afterimage, fluid, precise, without any superfluous movent, filled with the rhythmic sense of battle-honed drills.
"…When we get to Latamira, when our muzzles are aid at real enemies, then we'll see. I just hope, by then, you brothers can pull the trigger with speed and accuracy that matches your current impeccable joking skills."
In an instant, a deathly stillness enveloped the eting point.
The SSO mbers who were just wearing joking smiles froze, their expressions turned into surprise, seriousness, and re-evaluation.
What Song Heping just demonstrated was sothing beyond the capabilities of an ordinary military contractor or militia leader; it was the muscle mory and the unity of man and weapon achieved only by the most elite Special Forces through long-term imrsion.
Major Petrovsky broke the awkward silence with a tily cough: "Enough! Equipnt final check, boarding in five minutes! 'Hawkeye,' once you're out of Homs, launch the 'Sea Eagle'-3 drone first, conduct nightti infrared scans on the predetermined infiltration routes A and B, and transmit the data to each vehicle terminal!"
"Yes! Captain!"
'Hawkeye' Savelyev imdiately responded, starting the final check of the drone.
A minute before departure, Petrovsky called Song Heping to the rear of one of the "Typhoon" vehicles, unrolling a tablet displaying a detailed electronic map covering the central and northern areas of Siria.
On the map, from Homs to Latamira Village in the northeastern Al-Hasakah Province, the straight-line distance exceeded 600 kiloters, with a complex interlacing of governnt army, opposition ard forces, extremist organization "1515," and Kurd Ard control zones in between, resembling cracked and differently colored fragnted glass.
"Song, this is the preliminary infiltration route."
Petrovsky's finger traced a zigzag, primarily running through deserts and arid mountainous terrain, on the screen.
"We cannot use airborne delivery; the US Army has effective no-fly zones near the Kurd people's territory in the northeast, so we have to rely on ground mobility, traveling by night to avoid main towns and traffic routes."
Song Heping frowned slightly, staring at the map: "600 kiloters, the entire route in enemy-occupied or sensitive areas. Even with round-the-clock travel, avoiding large-scale combat zones, it would take at least three to four days. Fuel, supplies, exposure risk are all issues. Moreover, the final stretch into Al-Hasakah Province, especially near Latamira Village, is the core control zone of the Kurd Ard; their militia organization and US Special Forces advisors are frequently active, significantly increasing infiltration difficulty."
"Yes, this is the biggest challenge."
Petrovsky nodded, acknowledging Song Heping's point.
"But we are not fighting alone."
He switched the map mode, and several satellite markers of different orbits appeared on the screen.
"Moscow has employed the highest-level resources. We will receive sustained support from at least two 'Liana' series electronic reconnaissance satellites and one 'Persona' high-resolution optical reconnaissance satellite. They can provide us with near-real-ti battlefield monitoring, enemy force movent alerts, and dynamic updates on the best concealed routes."
He pointed to several preset points on the map: "'Signal' will handle receiving and decoding satellite data. Besides, our remaining intelligence network in the region will be activated to provide human intelligence supplents. Our convoy is equipped with the latest 'Magnetic Field' electronic warfare system, capable of short-term jamming drones and simple communications within a defined range when necessary."
Song Heping tapped the area around Latamira Village on the map: "The village is small but has a complex terrain, close to the border. If the target is detained there, the defending forces won't be weak. The risk of a frontal assault is too high; precise identification of the target's position is necessary, preferably silent infiltration, and swift resolution."
"That's the SSO's specialty."
Petrovsky's tone was filled with confidence.
'Hawkeye's drone and satellite imagery will help us scout the village layout and guard posts in advance.
'Cold Blade' will take the high ground to provide cover.
'Thunder God' will handle potential obstacles and strong points. The key is speed and stealth."
Song Heping contemplated for a mont, pointing to an unnad valley at the border of Illiguo on the map: "My forces will establish a rendezvous point in this area. Once you rescue the target, do not linger in combat; imdiately retreat towards the border along the predetermined route. I will arrange for a guide familiar with the terrain to wait at the border and provide necessary fire cover to counter potential pursuers."
"Excellent."
Petrovsky saved the route data.
"We'll finalize the specific rendezvous signals and contingency plans en route. Now, move out!"
The order was given, and the engines roared softly.
The heavy armored doors slamd shut, isolating the interior from the outside world.
The convoy did not turn on the headlights, relying only on low-light night vision and satellite navigation, gliding out of the base like a ghost, rging into the endless darkness, advancing towards the northeast land shrouded in crisis and enigma.
Inside the vehicle, apart from the engine noise, all that remained was the heavy breathing of the team mbers and the slight clinking of their equipnt.
Song Heping knew that every step of this six hundred kiloters march could be knocking on the gates of Hell.
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