This news was like a huge block of ice, instantly shattering into every team mber's heart, almost freezing the already heavy atmosphere.
Losing satellite support ans every veteran who has experienced modern warfare knows—they have lost the "God's perspective," unable to discern the real-ti position and threat axis of overhead drones, unable to obtain the movent and deploynt of enemy troops within dozens or even hundreds of kiloters around them. Most lethally, they can't call for support from any rear forces.
In this unfamiliar and perilous place, surrounded by strong enemies, this is almost equivalent to a death sentence, just with a delayed execution.
The situation was extrely difficult.
Petrovsky's face instantly turned ashen.
Desperation!
This damn situation is like shouting into the void for help that never cos!
The imnse pressure pressed down on his heart like a mountain.
"Ha!"
In this deathly silence of despair, a sneering laugh full of mockery lashed at every SSO team mber's nerves like a whip.
Sitting on a rock nearby, carefully wiping the high-precision, old-fashioned SVD sniper rifle in his hand with a small piece of cloth, Hunter lifted his eyelids.
His face carried unabashed contempt, his gaze sweeping over the troubled "Signal," then onto Petrovsky, whose face was darker than a pot's bottom, and he leisurely spoke in Russian with a heavy Kazakhstan Prairie accent:
"What did I say? Huh? You Russians, apart from the efficiency of vodka production lines and the number of drunks barely holding onto the 'glorious tradition' of your Soviet grandfathers, everything else, especially these brain-requiring gadgets, is getting worse year by year! When did the great Soviet Red Empire get thrown into disarray by a small electronic interference like a bunch of hornets whose nest was destroyed, unable to even find their way ho?"
These words were vicious, precisely poking at the most sensitive and complicated scar in Russians' hearts—complex feelings towards the Soviet era, and a certain sense of disappointnt with the current situation.
But ironically, Hunter's words were completely true; those SSO team mbers wanted to refute but couldn't find any reason.
The SSO team mbers, already under extre pressure from being in a desperate situation, exploded instantly!
Their pent-up fear, exhaustion, and confusion about the future found an outlet at this mont.
"Son of a bitch! What did you say?!"
"Looking for death, are you? Kazakhstan shepherd's bastard!"
"Suka! If it weren't for us driving the car to death just now, you would have already been blown to pieces by that 'Hellfire' and turned into roast whole sheep!"
Several of the youngest team mbers, including the hot-tempered Volkov, jumped up from the ground, glaring at Hunter with eyes blazing, their profanity firing out like bullets.
Volkov took a big step forward, his towering nearly 1.9-ter physique like a wall, emanating a strong physical intimidation, almost pressing up against Hunter's face.
The air was full of gunpowder, like a spark could trigger a violent explosion.
Faced with everyone's fury, Hunter not only didn't back down but instead stood up with a cold smile.
He wasn't very tall, but he fearlessly t Volkov's almost flaming gaze.
"What? Did I hit a nerve, and all you can do is rage impotently like a rutting cal?"
Hunter's tone was full of provocation.
"Besides brandishing your muscular arms and using brute force, what else do you Russian lords living off Soviet legacies know? Your own communications are being crushed by Aricans, what face do you have to strut around here?"
As a Kazakhstan citizen, the historical grievances and entanglents with Russia are complex and hard to express. Any additionally categorized union nation feels a strange sense of hatred towards old Soviet tis.
At this mont, in such a desperate situation, that underlying dissatisfaction and regional antagonism are magnified infinitely.
"Do you want to die?"
Volkov suddenly pulled out a combat knife, its cold blade glinting under the moonlight.
"Enough!"
An intense shout suddenly rang out, drowning all the quarreling and cursing.
The one who spoke wasn't Petrovsky, but Song Heping.
No one knew when he had turned around, moving so fast that only an afterimage was left.
And the muzzle of the HK416 assault rifle in his hand had been raised not towards the provocative Hunter, but directly aid at those SSO team mbers who were emotionally out of control and almost ready to act!
Especially Volkov, who was charging in the forefront!
The other SSO team mbers also simultaneously raised their guns, aiming at Song Heping.
This scene stunned everyone, the air instantly solidified.
"Put the guns down! Suka! Did you hear ?"
Petrovsky exploded in a shout almost simultaneously with Song Heping's action, stepping swiftly between his team mbers and Song Heping's gun.
Even though he was equally boiling with anger inside from Hunter's words that hit right at the heart, wanting to personally give him a punch, his rationality told him that Song Heping's approach, though rough, was the quickest and most effective way to stop the infighting.
If a conflict broke out now, the only outco would be total annihilation.
Those SSO team mbers were thoroughly intimidated by their captain's unprecedented fury and Song Heping's emotionless muzzle, which looked like it could pull the trigger at any mont.
Volkov's face muscles twitched violently, his fists clenching until they cracked, but ultimately he gritted his teeth, taking a step back extrely reluctantly, and the other team mbers froze on the spot, not daring to move.
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