The three "Typhoon" Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected vehicles skillfully utilized the shadows of the riverbank and several clusters of resilient drought-resistant shrubs to hide their massive bodies. The engines had long been turned off, and the tal bodies slowly lost temperature in the cold night wind, gradually blending into the infrared characteristics of the surrounding environnt.
The fifteen-minute rest was as precious as oases in the desert.
The team mbers acted in strict tactical discipline, taking turns.
In pairs, they relied on vehicles and natural cover to establish a simple guard line, while the rest quickly solved personal issues, checking whether the straps and buckles of their gear were secure, whether the silencers on their firearms were loose, and whether the night vision goggles' batteries were sufficient.
No one spoke, only the sound of light equipnt collisions and the rustling of boots on gravel.
Song Heping sat down against the huge blast-resistant tire of the leading vehicle, feeling the cold through his combat uniform.
He took off his helt, letting the night wind blow through his slightly sweaty hair, while his ear was still pressed against the earphone of the individual radio to ensure he didn't miss any instructions.
His gaze swept slowly across the riverbed's star-lit, jagged contours like a hawk's, no unnatural movent or reflection could escape his eyes.
The Hunter was sitting not far from him, already awake at so unknown ti, ticulously wiping his SV-98 sniper rifle's breech with a piece of deerskin cloth in the dim light.
"How do you feel?"
Song Heping asked softly in Chinese.
The Hunter didn't even lift his head, his voice hoarse from years of smoking yet exceptionally stable, "Very eerie."
"How so?" Song Heping's lips twitched slightly, asking with an indistinct smile.
"Mysterious..."
The Hunter murmured, reassembling the polished breech to the gun body with a precise "click," the sound crisp in the silence.
"They haven't told you exactly what to do at Latamira yet?"
"No." Song Heping shook his head lightly.
The Hunter glanced around but didn't see Major Petrovsky.
"Be wary of the Russians, they are also deceiving."
"I will." Song Heping suddenly laughed, "Aren't you from over there? "
The Hunter snorted, "I'm not of Russian descent."
Song Heping didn't continue this sensitive topic.
He understood that all forr Soviet countries harbored a certain vigilance toward Russia after the dissolution, etched into their bones and impossible to change. It's best not to argue about it as it would only make oneself look foolish.
The fifteen minutes felt like they were abruptly seized by an invisible hand.
Major Petrovsky appeared in everyone's view again, raising his wrist and blinking a laser indicator at specific frequencies toward the vehicles.
The team mbers moved instantly, like components on a precision instrunt.
The sentinels retreated silently, those checking equipnt quickly slung their backpacks, and everyone returned to their compartnts in the quietest and most efficient manner.
The heavy armored vehicle doors closed gently, giving off a dull yet airtight echo.
The engines rumbled deeply but were kept at minimum RPM, as the convoy awakened like a giant beast from a slumber, slowly driving out of the riverbed and plunging back into the boundless dark curtain once more.
About two hours after leaving the relatively safe riverbed resting spot, the convoy was traveling in a vast and flat gravel desert, which, though conducive to observation, was also extrely susceptible to exposure.
The stars in the night sky were clearly visible, but in modern warfare, the real "stars" are those artificial satellites in orbit.
Suddenly, "Signal" Lebedev's voice sounded in the internal channel.
"Major! Report! 'Vine-2' signal strength is drastically dropping...connection lost! Repeating, lost connection with 'Vine-2'! Attempting to switch to backup channel to connect 'Vine-1'...severe interference! Signal-to-noise ratio is extrely poor, data link is unstable, high-definition image transmission completely interrupted!"
The air inside the compartnt instantly cooled.
Major Petrovsky's heart sank.
Satellite support was their greatest reliance in this perilous enemy territory, their overhead "Heavenly Eye."
Now, with the "Heavenly Eye" suddenly blind, the psychological impact and practical risks were enormous.
"Can you ascertain the nature and approximate direction of the interference source?"
Major Petrovsky's voice remained steady, but his pace quickened noticeably.
"It seems to be…targeted broadband jamming, covering a wide frequency range, the source cannot be accurately pinpointed, but the power is very strong!"
"Signal" Lebedev quickly reported, fingers swiftly sliding over the reinforced tablet, attempting to analyze signal characteristics.
"It's not just the 'Vine' series, our link with the 'Role' high-resolution optical satellites is also severely affected! The current effective reconnaissance range has been compressed to less than ten kiloters, and image delay exceeds ten minutes with poor quality, basically losing real-ti warning value!"
Ten kiloters.
For a convoy moving at over sixty kiloters per hour in open terrain, this warning ti is fleeting; by the ti enemy presence is detected, they've already entered the opponent's effective firing range.
The oppressive atmosphere inside the compartnt made breathing difficult; everyone could hear their own heartbeat.
The sense of control brought by satellite imagery vanished, replaced by a feeling of uncertainty like groping through fog.
"Hawkeye."
Petrovsky took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Imdiately deploy drones to scout ahead for three kiloters, focusing on scanning the flanks of our planned A and B routes. Convoy, reduce speed to forty kiloters per hour, maintain absolute radio silence, advance using inertial navigation and offline terrain data."
"Understood! Drones airborne!"
"Hawkeye" Savelyev expertly operated the control unit, a barely audible faint electric motor hum emanated from the car roof.
A nondescript, wave-absorbing material-coated quadrotor reconnaissance drone detached from the vehicle like a night-flying bat, swiftly ascending towards the unknown dark airspace ahead, becoming the convoy's sole reliable sentry.
Song Heping furrowed his brow, his sharp gaze fixed on the screen displaying the blurry and highly delayed satellite map.
Losing space-based support at this critical mont, the chance of coincidence seed too low.
Did the US Army detect their movent and activate electronic warfare asures in the area?
Or did the Kurd Ard set up large interference equipnt in specific regions? Or perhaps…
A third party got involved?
No matter the possibility, losing satellite reconnaissance ant they stepped from relative safety into a more dangerous spotlight, the risk level rising exponentially.
The convoy slowed down, the massive "Typhoon" combat vehicles seed to restrain their aura, cautiously moving on the gravel beach.
Inside the vehicle, everyone held their breath, not just relying on onboard equipnt, but engaging all their senses—ears carefully distinguishing whether the wind carried abnormal engine sounds, eyes fixed through night-vision goggles and viewing windows, focusing intensely on their sectors, as if to see through the thick armor and perceive any hint of external danger.
Infrared images from the reconnaissance drone showed everything "normal" ahead: cracked and broken earth presented a cold ink-blue hue under the night sky, rolling hills-like the backs of sleeping beasts, no large force movents observed, nor any obvious vehicle lights.
This "normal" made them even more uneasy.
Danger often lurks beneath seemingly calm details.
As the convoy was about to pass through a natural pass ford by two severely wind-eroded rocky hills, a crisis suddenly descended!
The driver of the leading vehicle suddenly reported urgently in a low voice: "Right side ridge, two o'clock direction, brief flash! Very faint, like lens reflection or a small electronic device screen's brightness! Flashed for an instant!"
Almost simultaneously with his report, "Hawkeye" Savelyev also cried out: "Drone detected intermittent heat sources about eight hundred ters on the other side of the pass! Six to eight moving in a loose formation...wait! The equipnt they carry…the heat signature is unusual! There's a box-like object continuously generating heat, potent, unlike regular personal weapons!"
Major Petrovsky's pupils constricted sharply, without any hesitation, he issued a series of concise and clear commands: "All stop! Engines off! Maximum concealnt! 'Cold Blade', 'Frost', advance for tactical recon! Determine enemy numbers, equipnt, deploynt! 'Hawkeye,' maneuver the drone for close observation, prioritize identifying that abnormal heat source! Everyone else, stand by inside, ready for combat!"
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