Mist whispered, "Don't look at him."
Song Heping kept his eyes forward and continued to drive the donkey, "I know."
"He seems to be following us..." Mist cursed under his breath, "FUCK!"
Indeed, before the words were even finished, they heard a gruff voice from behind, "The donkey cart up ahead, stop!"
"Do we stop?" Mist asked while his hand slipped into his robe, touching the grip of the P226 handgun and flipping off the safety.
Song Heping didn't say a word; he had to make a decision in the shortest ti possible.
Stop.
Or not?
He even had to estimate the other party's endurance.
Under what circumstances, he would fire.
The distance between them was less than twenty ters.
At this distance, if they retaliated, there would be no problem in taking down the other party.
The question was whether there would be accomplices of ard militants around...
"Dammit!"
Song Heping cursed to himself, then lashed the left side of the donkey with the whip.
Pained by the hit, the donkey quickly turned to the right.
This turn brought them directly to the roadside and into an alley, the cart half-exposed.
Song Heping hurried off the cart and quickly looked around for a reconnaissance.
Surrounding buildings were battered and broken from bombings.
Looking through the window, no one was there.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
Luckily, there had been frequent firefights during the day recently, so no one wanted to stand by the windows.
There was still half an hour left today before the US Army usually comnced operations.
He reckoned that these militants were scouts positioned at the city's edge.
The further inside you went, the more militants there were, the more dangerous.
Song Heping raised his hands.
Mist also raised his hands.
Both turned around to face the ard militant approaching them with a gun.
His two cohorts followed seven or eight ters behind, skulking and occasionally looking up at the sky.
For these past few days, the US Army's drones had been flying in the sky, occasionally launching missiles at the ground when they spotted large gatherings of ard personnel.
There had been several incidents where the Grim Reaper drone wiped out a dozen militants gathered together.
Therefore, they were also very cautious.
"What are you two doing?"
Song Heping didn't dare to answer.
Neither did Mist.
Though both knew a bit of Arabic and could understand what the other was asking.
But once they opened their mouths, their accents would give them away.
Song Heping's mind raced, he pointed at the flatbed cart, showing a very frightened deanor, and then said the word, "Bread!"
The fewer words, the better.
The less likely one's accent would be detected.
The Arabic word for "bread" is "نانغ", very short.
After speaking, Song Heping put on a smile, spread his hands, indicating he ant no harm.
In fact, by doing so, he was contemplating murder.
If he raised his hands, it would take a major motion and more ti to draw his gun, making it easy for the other party to shoot first.
But with spread hands, aligned with the waist, drawing a gun was much faster.
Song Heping could draw his weapon and fire within one second.
Mist was also a top-notch forr Special Soldier; he had seen Song Heping's intent and also lowered his hand to point at the flatbed and said, "Bread!"
Food?
The militant, who had initially been very wary, was coaxed when he heard it was bread. The city had been hard-pressed for food these days, with severe shortages.
So when he heard it was bread, his appetite was instantly aroused.
Approaching, he truly slled the scent of bread in the air.
"Co here! There's bread!"
He waved to his cohorts behind him.
The two followed suit.
The militant in front thought to have his two cohorts on guard while he checked it out himself.
So, when his two cohorts were three or four ters away from Song Heping and Mist, he slung his gun and let go of the grip, quickly walked over to the flatbed, then lifted the bag on it with one move.
Indeed, it was bread!
His eyes lit up.
"We've requisitioned it!"
He could no longer afford to explain any further, as he directly grabbed a bag with each hand, intending to pick them up and leave.
Just as he was turning around with the two large bags of flatbread to leave, an arm reached out from behind and wrapped tightly around his throat.
Tap tap—
Two very faint gunshots sounded by his ear.
Song Heping had already drawn his gun and pulled the trigger.
The ard militant hadn't even reacted before he saw the foreheads of the two comrades in front of him each blossom with a bullet hole, imdiately falling to the ground motionless.
Next, he felt a foot stomp into the back of his knee, causing him to involuntarily drop to one knee.
The cold barrel of a gun quickly pressed against the back of his head.
Tap—
A mix of white and red substance sprayed out from the front of his skull.
This flatbread-stealing militant didn't even have the chance to make a sound before he was dead.
"Drag them inside and hide them well!"
Song Heping dragged the man's body back into the alley, propped it against a wall, then went back for another corpse; Mist also ca over to help.
It took less than ten seconds for a person to handle one body.
However, leaving the bodies in the alley would definitely draw attention eventually.
But as long as no one saw them at that mont, it would be fine, because the US Army was soon to launch an attack, and by then no one would know how these three died.
After temporarily hiding the bodies, Song Heping placed the flatbreads back onto the cart, and drove the donkey with Mist to the rendezvous point at their fastest speed.
This was Mist's first ti witnessing Song Heping in action.
All three were killed by Song Heping.
After all, he was the one who took the initiative and gained the upper hand.
Mist didn't even have ti to help before the three were dead.
Indeed, it left a deep impression on him.
It seed the owner of the rcenary company was a profound and unfathomable person; Mist had truly underestimated him before.
Fortunately, there were no other people around when the two of them eliminated the three militants, so it didn't cause any trouble.
Soon, they arrived at the designated eting point.
Mist got off to check the mark painted on the wall, then signaled to Song Heping, "Here! This is the place, this courtyard!"
The marked wall was next to a courtyard door.
Mist checked for any traps carefully, then cautiously pushed it open.
Song Heping drove the donkey cart inside, parking it in the courtyard.
The house on the right side of the courtyard had been demolished, while the left side was half-destroyed.
There was a small bungalow in the courtyard that was still relatively intact.
Seeing this scene, Song Heping couldn't help but start to worry.
They were planning to be airlifted into a location to the west of Mosul City at dusk after the US Army operation concluded.
Because it was difficult to bring too much equipnt into the city, they had to rely on an airdrop to receive those supplies.
After obtaining their equipnt, they were to head to Rashim Street overnight, find a spot near the sewer entrance to hide, conduct surveillance, and pinpoint the location.
If they confird that the place was indeed the "Hunter's" lair, they would imdiately call in the Air Force to drop a ground penetrating bomb, and they would also observe the effects of the bombing nearby, relaying information back to the command center.
This ant that for an entire day, he and Mist would have to stay in this courtyard.
If bombing occurred, there was nowhere to hide.
It was not safe at all.
Click—
Just then, Song Heping suddenly heard the faint sound of tal scraping.
He was all too familiar with this sound.
It was the noise an AKM made when its safety was switched off.
Song Heping swiftly drew his gun while simultaneously darting to one side, pressing himself against the wall looking for cover.
"The Lord is the fairest of gods."
As soon as Song Heping saw the barrel of the AKM assault rifle, he heard the person hiding in the rubble of the house to the left utter the passphrase for the rendezvous.
"The Lord is the most rciful of gods."
Mist completed the second half of the passphrase.
The other party's gun barrel lowered, and the person erged from behind the ruins.
"Are you the guides? Mist, Song?"
"Yes, we are. Are you Mira?"
"Correct."
At this point, both parties had completely verified each other's identity.
"Follow !"
The liaison person Mira gestured toward the small bungalow ahead.
"Bring the donkey in too!"
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