The off-road vehicle had just left the dirt road when bullets hit the ground.
If it weren't for Song Heping's accurate premonition of danger, one of them might have been hit by the gunfire.
So people manage to survive on the battlefield not just because of their polished tactics, rich combat experience, and exceptional luck, but also due to another crucial factor: battlefield foresight, or what's commonly known as combat intuition.
Song Heping had a certain talent in this area, often saving his own life at critical monts.
The two quickly grabbed their guns, jumped out of the vehicle, and took cover in front of the engine, using the hood as a shield.
"Who's out there?"
Mist called out, inquiring.
Song Heping's mind raced, trying to make a precise judgnt.
Once they returned fire, it would an war, with no turning back.
If the other party was just a village sentry reacting instinctively to a strange vehicle, retaliating would only eliminate their room to maneuver.
Since both were accurate shooters, firing would certainly result in fatalities.
"No, we can't shoot," Song Heping quickly decided, "If it's just village sentries, killing them would complicate our mission."
In today's Afghan, chaos reigned everywhere. All tribes and villages were on guard, each having so weapons, a habit not ford overnight but since the late seventies when the Soviet Union invaded.
Especially in the Golden Star Moon region, to survive here, every tribe and village had its own group of ard young n to protect their people; even the student militia or the Revolutionary Brigade sotis had to show so respect to these scattered ard forces.
After all, without the support of the tribes, they themselves couldn't survive in this land.
The student militia managed to seize power, plainly speaking, by garnering support from local tribes and villages. With their backing, all invaders could be drowned in the vast sea of people's warfare, thus crafting Afghan's reputation as the "Empire Graveyard."
"So what do you plan to do?" Mist asked.
Song Heping retorted irritably, "F*ck, you're a Seal Team mber, and you're asking what to do? Aren't you a veteran of the battlefield? What do you think we should do?"
Mist said, "Okay, I suggest we negotiate."
Song Heping nodded, "Good idea, great minds think alike."
After all, there were only two of them, and no matter how capable, they were just two people.
Being chased by an entire village was not a pleasing prospect.
Moreover, fighting could impact the mission, so negotiating was undoubtedly the best way out.
The village suddenly beca bustling.
Hiding behind the engine, the two could hear shouting from afar; the villagers had been awakened, and the ard guards were probably picking up their weapons and preparing to search for the intruders.
"Do you speak the local language?" Song Heping asked.
Mist replied, "I speak a bit of Dari."
Dari is the official language of Afghan.
Mist knew it because US Army personnel received a bonus for each additional language they learned; although it wasn't much, it was better than nothing.
Being a Seal Team mber involved missions around the world, and he had spent the past two years in Central Asia and the Middle East, so it was understandable that he had picked up so of the local languages.
Upon hearing this, Song Heping quickly said, "Then you handle the negotiation."
Mist shook his head, "Are you an idiot? go? With my appearance? Do you think I can negotiate without getting shot like a beehive? Believe it or not?"
Song Heping was stunned.
He then realized.
Mist was Arican, and though he currently had a false identity as an Eastern European, he was Caucasian.
Afghans were highly sensitive towards Caucasians these days, and would minute him as a US Army spy and send him straight to et God with a burst of gunfire.
"Alright..."
Song Heping was very reluctant.
Given the circumstances, he had no choice but to step forward himself.
The problem was that he did not speak the official language himself.
Dari is Persian, and Song Heping only knew English and Arabic.
Though they might seem similar on the surface, they were actually miles apart.
"I'll go out to negotiate later, you stay here and speak, got it?"
Song Heping thought of a compromise.
Since he didn't know the language but Mist did, he could let him stay hidden behind the off-road vehicle's engine, responsible for listening and shouting.
While such a negotiation thod might seem a bit odd, as long as it worked, who cares about the rest?
"You shout, shout loudly, declare our identities, say we are guests, guests invited by Rabbani, and ask if this is Jabade Village."
"Hey! Folks! Brothers! We are not your enemies, we are guests invited by Rabbani, he arranged to et us here, can you please verify if this is Jabade Village? If yes, soone should ask Rabbani for confirmation."
Rabbani was the local ard leader of the Revolutionary Brigade in the region, naturally well-acquainted with the tribal leaders and villagers of the area.
"Co out! Who are you! Co out!"
The encircling villagers shouted, urging Song Heping and his companion to co out.
After all, they were also wary of these unexpected guests potentially harboring ill intentions, so none of them wanted to show themselves, hiding behind ditches, trees, and bushes.
"What are they saying?" Song Heping asked.
Mist replied with a grin, "They want you to go out, your 'negotiator from beneath the earth,' go out, don't bring a gun, show them your peaceful intentions."
Song Heping detected so schadenfreude in his tone, so he retorted sarcastically, "If I die, do you think you can escape?"
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