Rock had been waiting on the second floor for quite a while.
The first floor did not launch another attack.
"You!"
He gestured with his fingers to one of Batchai's n across from him.
"Co here."
"?"
The one he pointed at was sowhat confused.
"Yes, co here!"
The reluctant militant, who had a large mole on his face sprouting a tuft of long hair, moved in front of Rock.
"Go check the path."
He pointed to the stairwell.
The man with the tuft of hair paled instantly.
"They are right downstairs..."
"Stop the crap!"
Rock drew his pistol and pressed it against the tuft of hair's forehead.
The man with the tuft of hair licked his lips, feeling his throat go dry.
He looked around.
Nobody stood up for him.
The white man in front of him was Batchai's honored guest, and he also dared not defy the order; his boss had just said to listen to them.
"Hurry up! Or I'll blow your brains out!"
The man with the tuft of hair could only tremble as he held his gun and edged towards the stairs step by step.
When he reached the stairway, he looked back.
All he saw was sympathy.
Still, no one stood up for him.
And nobody said they would go with him.
"All damn fair-weather friends!"
Rembering how they would drink and play rock-paper-scissors together during leisure tis, the man with the tuft of hair felt colder than the Arctic Ocean waters.
When there was drink and at, everyone would boldly assu adversity together.
Now that he was in trouble...
Wouldn't it be better if several buddies had joined him, offering more hope?
They instantly beca turtles hiding their heads!
Muttering under his breath, his legs shook as he slowly moved downstairs.
Upon reaching the banister, he stretched out his gun, sprayed a burst of bullets, then swiftly pulled back his hand.
—
After the gunfire, silence fell again.
There was no movent below.
Nobody shot back, nobody fired.
"Hmm?"
The tufted cat looked back towards Rock at the stairway entrance on the second floor.
"No one..."
He whispered softly, gesturing.
Rock coldly shook his pistol in his hand: "Keep going!"
The man with the tuft of hair felt extrely bitter inside.
Damn, if he had known this, he wouldn't have gotten so close to this grim reaper.
Out of so many people, he had to pick him.
Today really was not a good day to leave the house...
He could only continue to hold his gun and hug the wall as he walked down.
When he reached the corner, the tufted man stopped.
The mont he turned around the corner, the people on the first floor would see him.
This was the most dangerous spot.
He carefully and slowly moved his feet, slowly sticking his head out...
—
A burst of muzzle flash exploded from a corner downstairs.
The man with the tuft of hair didn't even get the chance to cry for help; his head was directly blasted into a smashed waterlon, with brain matter splattering on the gun.
The body stiffened for a few seconds before slowly falling to the ground.
Having witnessed all this, Rock breathed out heavily.
It seed the other party was still in a standoff.
But what good did the standoff do for them?
Wasn't this courting death?
The advantage of ti was on their side.
He looked at his watch.
It should only be about ten more minutes until the backup forces arrived.
"Just wait! In ten minutes, you'll have your ti to cry!"
He instructed the people guarding the stairway entrance: "Keep a tight watch, reinforcents will arrive in ten minutes."
After speaking, he crouched and returned to the second floor hall.
Underneath the sofas and tables in the hall, Batchai and other big shots, now devoid of their usual imposing manner, were all huddled at the back like frightened dogs.
He walked over to Joyce and whispered, "Sir, they can't get up. KIK's ard forces will be here soon; we should be fine this ti."
Joyce cursed bitterly, "It must be those people from China; I heard them speaking Chinese, damn it! How did they know we were here to plan an operation against them?"
Rock couldn't answer the question.
"Maybe..."
Just as he was searching for an excuse to placate his superior, he suddenly heard the sound of sothing falling on the first floor.
He sharply turned his head, pricking up his ears to listen.
"What was that noise?"
On the upper post, Jing Wengui ran back, gasping for air, and lay back down next to Hunter.
"Did you take it over there?"
"Took it over, took everything we could."
He finished speaking, pulled out his water bottle, took two sips, and screwed the cap back on.
"Your boss is really a madman."
Jing Wengui looked quite emotional.
He paused and then continued, "I just don't understand why my superiors are also going mad with him."
The Hunter asked, "Are you all from the sa unit?"
Jing Wengui imdiately clamd up, said nothing, and pretended not to hear.
In the small red building, Song Heping had secured the last block of TNT, inserted the detonator, then connected the fuse, and carefully jumped down from the table.
Across from him, White Bear also secured his last piece of explosive.
But White Bear was too big, and when he jumped off the table, he knocked over a chair.
In the silent night, inside the dark room, the sound of the chair hitting the floor was particularly grating.
Everyone felt their hairs stand up again.
They waited in the darkness for a while, but there was no movent upstairs.
Other than one person who had co down to look and t their fate earlier, the people on the second floor had been behaving.
That was proper.
Song Heping thought.
He wanted just this type of behavior.
So you want to play the waiting ga?
Fine, keep waiting!
"Is everyone ready?"
Song Heping asked quietly.
White Bear raised his hand and made an OK sign.
Grey Wolf also made an OK sign.
"Retreat!"
The n tiptoed out of the building, turned right at the front door, and hid under the carport in the yard.
"Wen Gui, are you sure the hall above is the second-floor reception room?"
"Certain, it is shown like that on the structural diagram; the intelligence should be correct."
Song Heping received the answer he wanted.
"That's good."
He took out the detonator, unlocked the firing chanism, cranked it a few tis, and finally pressed the detonation button.
Boom—
A loud explosion was heard, an orange fireball flashed inside the first floor of the small red building, blowing out all windows.
The blast was muffled but very powerful.
The entire small red building shook.
The townspeople, who had lit their lights due to the gunshots, thought it was so plane or cannon bombarding their place, and hurriedly turned off the lights again.
The entire town instantly went dark.
Hidden under the carport, Song Heping felt the strong shock wave, then heard the sound of the building structure collapsing.
"Go, go, go! Inside!"
He led the charge back towards the first-floor entrance.
As everyone rushed through the door, the scene before them was shocking.
The whole ceiling had collapsed.
The ground was littered with bodies and moaning ard militants.
"Begin!"
Song Heping led from the right as they began to search forward, while the others cleaned out different directions.
Song Heping had concentrated all the TNT blocks and directly planted them on the ceiling, creating a directional explosion just like in the demolition tasks he had practiced in Special Forces — directly collapsing the entire second-floor hall's floor.
The collapsed floor and the extra force of the explosion ant everyone upstairs fell to the first floor like cargo, either blasted to death or horribly mangled from the fall.
This action had been a necessary evil.
It was likely that the target, Joyce, would be killed.
But Song Heping had weighed his options.
Joyce would definitely be a heavily protected person, his position should be right in the middle of the second-floor reception room.
He blasted at the edges of the ceiling, directly demolishing all the load-bearing beams.
Of course, the shock wave would kill so people.
If Joyce died,
then it would just be his bad luck.
This decision was initially strongly opposed by Jing Wengui, but Song Heping didn't care about the other's protests and directly instructed him to contact Lei Ming.
In the end, Lei Ming agreed.
Jing Wengui was mocked by Song Heping again.
He thought that perhaps the reason Jing Wengui was chosen for infiltration was because he was very obedient.
Such a person was not suitable for command, but his execution was first-class, definitely would not make mistakes or step out of line, quite suitable for providing support from this position.
Ratatat—
So of the fallen started to retaliate, lifting guns to fire.
But they were all disoriented from the fall, shaken by the blast, and their aim was unsteady.
Song Heping and the others imdiately clung to the walls to take cover, avoiding the militants' frantic barrage, and then began calling out targets one by one.
"Watch for Joyce, don't kill that guy!"
Song Heping was most worried about Joyce now.
"If you see him, just wound him, keep him alive! Disaster Star, guard the staircase and don't let anyone from the third or fourth floors co down."
"Understood, boss!"
Inside, the sounds of gunfire continued for a long ti.
Song Heping finally reached where Rock was.
Rock's night-vision goggles were blown away.
He instinctively raised his hand to fire a shot, but upon lifting his hand, he discovered that his hand was gone...
Only a stump remained, his forearm completely missing, blood spraying out...
"Hey—"
Song Heping realized that the man lying in the ruins in front of him was a mber of the Seal Team.
He greeted him quietly as his gun went off.
Poor Rock, a battle-hardened soldier of the Seals, died on the spot, probably never dreaming that he would et his end in a small town in the northern part of the Golden Triangle, a place not even marked on the map...
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