The uncontrollable anger caused Yager to lose his rationality.
Close-quarter combat requires precise coordination; it's a tactical principle.
But he couldn't wait any longer.
Footsteps sounded from inside the building.
"He's trying to slip away!"
A thought flashed through Yager's mind.
"Not a chance!"
He suddenly darted from the door and unleashed a storm of bullets inside, the assault rifle in his hand spraying a fan-shaped strafing pattern, bullets sparking off the stone walls, creating eerie lines of light.
For a mont, he was certain he'd hit the target because the room went dead silent, as if it had beco a morgue.
A drop of blood landed on his tactical glove.
"You've made a mistake."
Song Heping's voice suddenly ca from above.
As Yager looked up, an antique British military bayonet plunged into his right shoulder blade—this China man had hidden atop the stone beam above the doorway!
Crafty!
The physical pain was far overshadowed by the shock that impacted him ntally.
Yager's HK416 assault rifle had beco a re fire poker.
The two were entangled face-to-face, unable to raise their rifles.
"I'm going to die with you!"
Yager's blood vessels in his eyes were engorged; he abandoned his firearm, opting for close combat—after all, a shoulder injury like this was nothing to a Mossad agent.
As they rolled down the steps together, Yager's hand found the pin on the grenade at Song Heping's waist.
"Die!"
In his madness, Major Yager pulled the pin on the grenade.
Ding—
The spring released.
The grenade entered its ard state...
"Damn!"
Song Heping realized the opponent was playing a life-for-life ga.
If Song Heping thought Mossad operatives hated him before, he now knew just how deep their hatred ran.
For Yager, the defeats at the Beirut port and the heavy casualties in the Alish Desert were nothing.
In this line of work, death is common.
But he couldn't tolerate repeated failures.
In Z East territory, Mossad was invincible.
One man.
An Oriental.
Had repeatedly defeated him, causing heavy losses, each ti getting so close to victory only to fail.
Such a feeling of failure was intolerable for a proud Mossad operations chief.
He would rather wash away his sha with blood.
Song Heping summoned his strength from his waist, overturning Yager, and like a flash, ripped the grenade from his waist and tossed it beside Yager before leaping to the side.
Antonov and Jiang Feng, who had been hiding behind the door, rushed forward to help, coincidentally encountering Yager's last four subordinates bursting through the door.
The group heard their superior and boss shout—
"Grenade!"
Every hair stood on end.
They all hit the ground as quickly as possible.
There was no ti to run.
They could only dive to the ground.
Whatever the shrapnel and shockwave did, they'd leave it to God.
Boom—
The grenade detonated inside the room.
Song Heping felt like soone had hamred his head, a ringing sound, his ears deafened imdiately.
The room filled with yellow dust.
But this was no ti to catch their breath, no respite for anyone.
Song Heping climbed up, nearly falling again.
The explosion had thrown off his balance.
But he could still make out the silhouette at the doorway; the British military bayonet in his hand flew out like lightning as he collapsed to the ground.
The bayonet flew accurately into the throat of the Mossad agent who had just stood up with a gun, looking for a target.
The man let out a strange, low scream, clutching his throat as he fell, his finger instinctively pulling the trigger.
Da-da-da-da—
The HK416 equipped with a silencer let out a low growl.
His unfortunate companion, who had just gotten up across from him, faced the muzzle, his face hit by several bullets, turning it into a smashed tomato, and he fell back dead without a sound.
The remaining two Mossad agents stood up only to be tackled by Antonov and Jiang Feng.
As Song Heping attempted to get up a second ti, Yager lunged at him like a hound, the gleam of his knife flashing in the dark, aiming directly at Song Heping's throat.
There was no ti for a significant reaction.
A hesitation of just a fraction of a second, and the knife would sever Song Heping's trachea and artery.
Instinctively, Song Heping reached out to grab.
The blade of the butterfly knife cut into his palm, the pain caused his brow to twitch.
His pain endurance training kicked in.
Despite the cut to his hand, he successfully locked Yager's wrist, and with a counter lever move, Yager's wrist was instantly twisted to the other side.
"%￥#@#￥%@!"
A stream of Hebrew obscenities spilled from Yager's mouth, his left foot aid at Song Heping's groin.
Instinctively, Song Heping dodged; the kick landed on his thigh, sparing him from castration.
But the dodge broke the counter lever hold, and Yager managed to break free.
Returning force is manners.
Not hesitating, Song Heping released Yager's wrist but imdiately jabbed his fingers like iron forks towards Yager's eyes.
Yager hurriedly raised his hand to block, aiming to sever Song Heping's fingers.
But before his knife could connect, he felt a sudden pain in his groin.
Song Heping's jab at his eyes was just a feint; the real attack was the kick to his groin.
"Oww—"
Yager's face turned white as he staggered back, his butterfly knife flying out, accurately stabbing into Song Heping's shoulder.
He kicked Song Heping's groin; Song Heping kicked him back.
Song Heping stabbed him; he returned the favor with a knife.
Both n were straightforward, not lacking in etiquette.
But they were employing military combat techniques, using nasty, lethal moves with no limits.
They grappled again, rolling over the stone slabs etched with cuneiform.
The scraping sound of the knife against the collarbone reminded the Mossad major of nights interrogating Syrian prisoners in the Golan Heights.
He grabbed the hilt of the knife in Song Heping's shoulder; Song Heping grabbed the hilt of the bayonet in Yager's shoulder.
Both tried to inflict extre pain to incapacitate the other, but neither succeeded.
Both were highly trained, with endurance levels far beyond the average person.
Shhh—
Shhh—
They pulled the knives from each other's shoulders and seized each other's wrists again as they rolled, the knives dropped, returning to hand-to-hand combat.
Yager attempted to use a cross lock to choke Song Heping but found Song Heping's muscles slipped away like a desert viper.
Song Heping's head hit a Byzantine ceramic jar hard, the fourth-century stored incense powder bursting into a srizing haze in the moonlight.
He seized the opportunity to strike Yager's ribs with his shin bone, where there was an old wound from a landmine fragnt.
In the Israeli's pained groan, Song Heping grabbed a stone and smashed it onto Yager's head.
Yager staggered back, and Song Heping lunged forward, aiming to twist Yager's neck.
"You should have died in Beirut."
Yager spat bloody Hebrew words, his right sleeve ejecting a ricin-loaded injection pen, which he hurled at Song Heping.
Song Heping instinctively dodged.
The needle grazed Song Heping's earlobe and embedded into a sandstone crevice, shattering.
They continued to roll in the hallucinogenic scented air, crashing into the crumbling weathered stones on the wall.
Song Heping picked up a crescent-shaped gear and smashed it toward his opponent's temple, Yager intercepting with his Kevlar-clad arm, when Antonov's shout reached his ears: "Bomb!"
The ancient castle suddenly shook violently—the Mossad agent who had been fighting with Antonov pulled the pins on all of his grenades, making himself a human bomb...
Everyone hit the ground to avoid the blast.
After the explosion, the collapsing do sent huge stones falling, and Yager seized the opportunity to pin Song Heping to the ground.
Song Heping saw the dog tag chain exposed under Yager's bulletproof vest, inscribed in Hebrew with a Talmud aphorism: An eye for an eye.
Deprived of oxygen, his vision began to blur, and Song Heping's thumb suddenly gouged into Yager's left eye socket. The capture technique forced the Hebrew agent to arch back.
"Aah—"
Yager scread.
Just then, a burst of gunfire erupted at the doorway.
Bang bang bang—
Bang bang bang—
"Don't move if you don't want to die! Stay on the ground!"
A woman's voice ca from the doorway.
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