Two days later, in the afternoon.
Useta Republic border, at the frontline command post of the U.S. Green Berets task force.
"FUCK!"
Major Jason Claude slamd the satellite phone onto the tal table, sending ripples through the liquid in the nearby coffee cup.
Outside the tent, the African noon sun baked the sand, heat waves distorting the distant view.
"It's that damn Chinese guy again."
He unbuttoned the top of his tiger-striped camo shirt, revealing his sun-red neck.
On the tactical tablet, intelligence just delivered by the departnt displayed a dossier photo of Song Heping—a sharp-eyed Asian face.
According to the latest intelligence reports, the key target on the U.S. terrorist list, Song Heping, likely entered the Sena Republic and plans to organize a governnt army counterattack in the near future.
Counterattack?
Jensen was sowhat enraged.
Why!?
A defense company daring to ddle in international affairs, intervening with the White House?
Jensen had no goodwill toward Song Heping.
You could say only hatred.
Ever since Song Heping was listed as a KB target, much inside information has been leaked.
Among which included a cold case.
Years ago, a Green Berets squad mysteriously disappeared in the South Arican jungle, with the entire team perishing. Post-event assessnts believed the local anti-governnt ard forces were incapable of such a level of hunting, leaving the matter unsolved.
Only last year, when Song Heping was added to the target list, his DNA entered the database, and after comparison with DNA samples left in the South Arican jungle, the culprit was identified as this nicknad "Sang" from China.
Several of the fallen Green Berets were Jensen's military school classmates, driving him to anger.
His deputy, First Sergeant McCarthy, entered by lifting the tent flap, his camo shirt soaked with sweat. "Sir, we just received a drone reconnaissance report, the Nase Governnt Army is assembling."
Jensen sneered, tossing the tablet to McCarthy.
"Look at this, those office-bound bastards at the Pentagon are freaking out again."
McCarthy took the tablet, his brow gradually furrowing.
"'Musician' Defense? The sa rcenary organization that embarrassed Delta Force so ti ago?"
"That's right, it's the team led by Song Heping."
Jensen took a bottle of mineral water from the cooler, the icy water sliding down his Adam's apple.
"Intelligence says they entered the Nase Republic about five days ago, providing military advisory services to the governnt army."
Suddenly, the sound of engines roared outside the tent, a pickup truck full of MLC militants drove by, kicking up a cloud of dust behind.
A few black soldiers grinned towards the tent, exposing blindingly white teeth, their AK-47 barrels glinting with blue light in the sun.
McCarthy placed the tablet next to the operation map, which was densely marked with red and blue arrows.
"Sir, I think we should pay attention to this intelligence. Song Heping's reputation in the rcenary world—"
"Just a rcenary for hire, maybe an expert in small-scale raids, but unqualified for commanding large-scale operations."
Jensen was very arrogant.
And he had a reason to be.
After all, he had attended formal military school, studying military command for several years.
So he motioned to cut McCarthy off, tapping a red pentagon symbol on the map representing the capital.
"We both know the combat capability of the Nase Governnt Army—can't even do basic infantry-armor coordination. Even with ten Song Hepings as advisors, a week later Kandar's troops can still flatten the capital."
In his words, Kandar actually referred to the MLC militia leader, known as Colonel Kandar.
Jensen went to the weapon rack in the corner of the tent, took down the custom HK416D assault rifle, and expertly checked the bolt.
Laser-engraved on the rifle's body were 27 fine notches—representing 27 high-value targets he had taken down.
McCarthy still stared at Song Heping's file: "The dossier shows he served in PLA Special Forces and participated in Afghan—"
"McCarthy!" Jensen raised his voice suddenly, "We are in Africa, not in Afghan. The rules of war here are entirely different."
He placed the rifle back on the rack, turning around with a flash of disdain in his eyes.
"Tomorrow Kandar's troops will launch a full assault. When the governnt army crumbles, Song Heping either runs with his tail between his legs or becos a dried corpse in the desert."
McCarthy hesitated to speak but finally just nodded: "Yes, sir. But according to the plan, if the governnt army shows abnormal movent, we should be prepared to provide tactical support at all tis."
Jensen waved dismissively, as if warding off a pesky fly. "Just keep the drone teams on surveillance. Right now, I'm more concerned about tonight's supply delivery—Kandar promised ice-cold beer."
At the sa ti, in the northern Nase Republic, Gugula Valley.
Song Heping crouched behind a heavily weathered sandstone, surveying every inch of the canyon landscape with a tactical telescope.
The canyon walls were nearly vertical, with the narrowest width less than thirty ters, like a scar cleaved by a titan's axe.
"This is the best ambush point. If the governnt army retreats tomorrow and MLC forces advance line-wide, Jiang Feng will execute my plan to infiltrate and attack their command post, then—"
He looked to the west, pointing towards the setting sun with his finger.
"The Green Beret team passing from Useta has to co through here, this is the fastest shortcut."
Saying this, he drew a circle on the terrain map with his finger.
The noon sun bead down directly, sweat rolling off his forehead and dampening a small spot on the map.
Hunter lay prone nearby, verifying data with a laser rangefinder.
"Canyon length 1.2 kiloters, narrowest width 27 ters, with commanding views from both sides covering the entire line."
He adjusted the instrunt's focus.
"There are four climbable routes on the east cliff, and five on the west."
"Once they enter the valley, signals will surely be affected. At that ti, you and the Queen must shoot down their communications officer as fast as possible, this is crucial!"
He stared at Hunter with a very serious expression: "If any of them makes it to higher ground or climbs to the top, they could send out a distress signal, and then the fight's countdown equals starting, leaving us only 20 minutes of life counting down."
"I understand, this ti I have prepared a large-caliber sniper rifle, will definitely destroy both the man and the radio."
"You'll be responsible for taking out the comms officer, while the woman handles the deputy's backup radio."
Song Heping's gaze was extrely firm.
"Do not allow any room for error!"
Finishing, he pulled out the satellite phone and dialed Ferrari's number.
Now, he had to confirm whether the life-saving charm was in place.
"Ferrari, how are things on your end? Where are the missiles?"
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