A trusted lieutenant who had followed him for years cautiously approached, lowered his voice, and attempted to persuade: "Leader, calm your anger! The enemy... the enemy is too cunning! Like scorpions in the desert! They are deliberately provoking us, using our brothers' blood as bait! Ahead... I fear there are more, even more hidden traps waiting for us... Is it... is it perhaps better to let the surviving brothers retreat, calm down, and then wait for reinforcents before sending the engineers ahead to carefully clear..."
"Retreat?!!"
Abu Omar suddenly turned his head, his bloodshot eyes fixated on the lieutenant who dared to suggest "retreat," as if he wanted to devour him whole.
He roared, spitting in the lieutenant's face: "Retreat where?! Tell , retreat where?! Those damn, Allah-defiling heretic Russians, have killed so many of our loyal brothers, and now, they are just ahead, fleeing miserably like frightened sand foxes! And now you want to retreat?!"
He frantically waved his sword: "Warriors of Allah are never afraid of death! Death is the shortcut to Heaven! Only with these heretics' filthy blood and painful wails can we wash away the sha they've brought upon us, and comfort the souls of our dead brothers ascending to Heaven! Tell everyone!"
He almost used all his strength to roar, his voice echoing throughout the entire troop.
"Chase them for ! Follow the tracks and footprints left by those heretics, chase them to the ends of the earth, chase them to the gates of Hell! I want to personally dig out their hearts one by one to honor our fallen brothers!"
His shouts echoed between the mountains, with religious fanaticism and determination.
The surrounding militants, who were initially still a bit unsettled, were quickly infected by the leader's highly provocative roar, and a collective frenzy swiftly replaced their fear.
They all raised their weapons, pointing to the blood-red sky, letting out earth-shattering, frenzied shouts:
"Allahu Akbar! (Allah is Great!)"
"Follow the leader!"
"Kill all the heretics! Dye the desert red with their blood!"
At the sa ti, amidst the rugged ridgelines and barren valley areas of the Gunei Mountain Area.
Song Heping and Major Petrovsky leading the Russian Army SSO Squad, were desperately running through the valley.
Now, ti and speed an life.
Being ard at high altitudes is no simple task.
Each soldier carried over thirty kilograms of heavy personal equipnt — including rifles with sights and night vision, spare magazines, explosives, communication devices, personal drones, dical kits, hydration packs, and rations.
Each person's lungs were burning, and each forceful breath felt as if there was a coarse piece of sandpaper being harshly rubbed inside.
The thin, oxygen-poor mountain air cruelly exacerbated this pain.
Dozens of hours of high-intensity combat, raids, and ntal tension at this mont were greatly draining every individual's strength and energy.
The Russian SSO Special Soldiers, though each physically robust and far stronger than ordinary soldiers, seed to gain little favor during these extre rugged cross-country pursuits.
Instead, Song Heping demonstrated an almost abnormal endurance and mountain adaptation ability.
He maintained a steady rhythm of movent; though he breathed rapidly, he was far from his limit.
He would occasionally suddenly halt for a mont, using protruding rocks or dead tree trunks as cover, kneeling on one knee, quickly raising the binoculars hanging from his chest, vigilantly observing the squad's rear, flanks, and potential vantage points ahead, providing invaluable vigilance for the entire squad.
"Cough… cough cough... ugh..."
The Communication Soldier "Signal" from the SSO Squad finally couldn't hold it anymore, a violent cough erupted from his throat, then he bent over, supported by nearby weathered granite, and vomited violently.
But apart from stomach acid, there was almost nothing to vomit out.
"Hold on! Stay strong!"
Major Petrovsky swallowed the little saliva left in his mouth, using as firm a voice as possible to encourage his team mbers.
"See that cal-back-like pass ahead? Cross it! Beyond that is the edge of Mannier Valley! Above there, we can leverage the complex terrain to gain temporary initiative! We can lure the hyenas behind us into a battlefield of our choosing!"
Song Heping returned like a ghost from a stone ledge at the front, quickly assessed the near-exhausted state of the team, and said to Petrovsky: "Major, we can't keep running like this without reservation. Their stamina is nearing exhaustion, and we must reserve the last part of strength to deal with the inevitable contact battle ahead. Otherwise, even if we reach the valley, we'll just be lambs to slaughter."
Petrovsky wiped the sweat and dirt off his face with his dirty tactical gloves, took a few deep, rough breaths, and said: "Song… you… any suggestions? Ti is running out."
Song Heping, without further words, crouched down to pick up a relatively handy dead tree branch, quickly sketching on the relatively soft sandy ground with simple yet precise lines.
"Here is our current position. East of Mannier Valley, logically, this is the direction of the 1515 pursuers, while the Aricans and Kurd people I presu are coming from the north, there needs soone to 'guide' them."
After speaking, Song Heping glanced at the few robust but pale-faced SSO Special Soldiers.
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