"Your n have reached their physical limits, and there's still 4 kiloters to the northern entrance. They're unlikely to keep running. My plan is—division of forces. You stay here to lure the 1515 Ard, while Hunter and I head north to distract the Aricans."
"Division of forces?"
Major Petrovsky furrowed his brow tightly.
"Yes. We must divide the forces."
Song Heping's tone was resolute and undeniable.
"You lead the entire SSO Squad here and use the terrain to establish a minefield, plus at least two...preferably three crossfire points to cover the entire passage."
He heavily poked at the "passage" entrance with a twig.
"Those 1515 guys have been enraged by us, losing their sanity, and they'll definitely chase us like mad dogs slling blood. Once their advance troops enter the ambush circle and step on the mines, you attack them from higher ground with the fiercest firepower! PKM sweeps, SVD precision calling, grenade launcher coverage! But rember the core purpose—not to annihilate, but to further enrage them, create maximum chaos, then feign firepower depletion, ammunition shortage, and proactively retreat, guiding them towards the center of the valley! Make them think we're forced to retreat due to their pressure!"
He paused, the twig swished towards another completely different direction—the North.
"As for and Hunter, we'll head North. Our task is to provoke the Aricans and their well-trained Kurd auxiliary forces. The two of us have fewer targets, are agile and flexible, good at infiltration and escape, suitable for such 'stirring the tiger's whiskers' task. We'll act like the most annoying desert mosquitoes, seize opportunities to sting them once, draw blood and leave, never lingering in battle, then lead them also towards the center of Mannier Valley."
Major Petrovsky imdiately understood.
"That seems like a good tactic...but...there's only two of you, while over there might be a US Special Forces squad and Kurd Ard possibly counting up to a hundred...very dangerous..."
Division of forces is incredibly daring, and also extrely dangerous!
Especially Song Heping and the Hunter group responsible for actively luring the US Army, with just two people!
They face the world's most advanced individual equipnt, well-trained, also skilled in mountain warfare and squad tactics US Special Forces and unknown in numbers, but familiar with the local terrain, equally formidable Kurd local ard regint.
It's akin to dancing on the tip of a knife.
"Exactly!"
Song Heping smiled and said, "Our ancestors have a saying—'Reluctant to give up the child, can't trap the wolf.'"
Petrovsky looked at Song Heping, his expression extrely complex, filled with admiration for his power and courage, and instinctive concern: "Song! This...this is too dangerous! There are only two of you! Once you're bitten, even just locked onto by the 'Grim Reaper' drone..."
Song Heping decisively interrupted him, his tone carrying an irrefutable determination: "This is the only possible best solution under current circumstances to reverse our absolute disadvantage! Use the smallest cost to exchange for the greatest chaos and vitality. We don't have ti to hesitate or discuss! Rember the contact signal and backup plan: no matter which side encounters the enemy first, after engaging in combat, they'll find a way to guide the enemy towards the center of the valley. If at the center predetermined rendezvous point, they don't see the other side, they'll create enough noise—gunshots, explosions, to attract the enemy towards the direction where the other may be! They must make contact!"
He spoke no more, stood up abruptly, making swift and decisive movents, took out a satellite phone from the innermost waterproof pocket of his tactical vest.
The cold tal and plastic casing reflected faint light under the sunset glow.
"Now."
Song Heping's voice was eerily calm: "I'm sending an official 'death invitation' to those self-styled Hunters of the Aricans."
After speaking, under the gaze of Petrovsky and several Russian Special Soldiers around, he unhesitatingly pressed down the satellite phone's power button.
The screen instantly lit up, the bluish background light illuminating the dirt-covered gloves.
The icon searching for satellite signals began to flash slowly but stubbornly, each jump tugging at everyone's heartbeat.
Although just a few seconds later, when the screen showed "Registered on the network," he again forcefully powered down, and with dazzling speed, skillfully disassembled the back cover, removed the battery, pulled out the SIM card, and stored all components separately.
But this brief beacon release, counted in seconds, was already enough for the 'Electronic Ghost' hovering thousands of ters high in the sky—the RC-12 electronic reconnaissance aircraft, closely monitoring this area like a ghost.
...
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