MLC Command Center Location.
Early morning, 5:30 AM.
Bang—
A 60-mm mortar shell landed in the camp, collapsing one of the tents.
"Mortar attack—!"
The sudden scream shattered the previous peace.
Two cooks in the center of the camp setting up a fire to make breakfast were so startled that they dropped the cleaned and gutted lamb to the ground and started scrambling, clutching their heads.
Bang—
Before the scream subsided, another mortar shell exploded in the camp.
The blast wave flipped over the control center's canvas roof; Colonel Kandar was tackled to the ground by two guards who rushed in, while his favorite mistress curled up in the corner, her fingers painted with bright red nail polish grabbing her hair as she let out a ghostly scream.
"Sir! Enemy discovered on the east side..."
The communications report was cut off by the explosion of another rocket, and the flickering tent lights cast twisted shadows on the violently shaking canvas.
Kandar struggled to get up, his uniform's front stained with spilled coffee.
He snatched the satellite phone from his mistress's hand, his knuckles turning white from exertion.
The screen displayed encrypted intelligence received over ten minutes ago—a warning from Major Jansen forwarded to him about the "Musician" Defense Company's involvent in the battle.
"Son of a bitch..."
He cursed through clenched teeth, his fingers frantically typing on the keypad.
Another burst of bullets pierced the tent, shattering the whiskey bottle on the table, glass shards scattering like diamonds onto the combat map.
The electronic tone when the call connected was a heavenly sound at this mont.
"Jansen! I fucking need support! Now! Imdiately!"
Kandar's roar drowned out the constant gunfire.
He bent down, half-crouched like a desperate stray dog, his forehead sweat dripping onto the satellite phone's keyboard.
"The governnt army's counterattack is a decoy! Their real target is—"
A sharp whistle suddenly pierced the air.
Kandar reflexively ducked, watching helplessly as a two-ter diater hole was blasted open on the tent's western side.
The morning sunlight penetrated the smoke, pouring into the tent, illuminating the scattered docunts and the bullet-pierced "Infantry Tactics Manual"—a gift from the Arican military advisor last year.
"Kandar? Speak!"
Jansen's voice ca from the receiver, with a clear hint of impatience.
The Colonel's gaze suddenly froze.
Through the hole in the tent, he saw a glint on the sand dune three hundred ters away—it was the cold glow of a sniper scope under the moonlight.
More terrifying, vaguely visible behind the dune were several gun posts, their muzzle flashes glaring even in the morning sun.
"They're here..."
Kandar's voice suddenly turned hoarse, his hand holding the phone starting to tremble uncontrollably, "That China man... Song Heping's people... they're on their side! They've infiltrated the back of the front line!"
Paper shuffling could be heard on the other end of the line; Jansen seed to be checking so docunts.
"Calm down, Colonel. My drones haven't detected any large-scale governnt army movents."
"Fuck your drones!"
Kandar suddenly flared up, kicking over the nearby ammunition box.
"Listen, Jansen! My command center is under attack by professional Special Forces! They used silenced weapons to pinpoint my sentries, used thermal imaging to locate all machine gun positions..."
A bullet suddenly zipped past his ear, leaving a smoking hole in the bulletproof panel behind him.
"—Fuck! They've surrounded my command post!"
Outside the tent, the dying screams of MLC soldiers resonated continuously.
Through the tattered canvas opening, two of his subordinates with guns frantically ran across the open ground, seemingly trying to reach the camp's periter to patch up the breached defenses.
But before running far, countless small bursts of dust and dirt erupted under their feet, and a mist of blood blossod from their bodies, crashing into the roadside ditch like an out-of-control car.
Kandar felt a chill run up his spine — the gunfire ca from all directions, as if enemy fire points were everywhere.
"Marlo! Marlo!"
He shouted loudly for the na of his guard company commander.
"I'm here!"
Kandar's confidant Marlo crawled in from the other side of the tent in disarray, likewise crouching down to crawl beside him like a dog.
"Colonel, we were ambushed! It's a tactical trap! The retreat an hour ago was a trap! Our main forces are up front, the rear is empty, their target is you!"
"I know!" Kandar's primary concern wasn't the issue; he grabbed Marlo by the collar and asked, "How many n do we have left?! Tell them not to panic, organize and build defenses, hold out! The Arican support will arrive soon!"
"I don't know how many are left!" Marlo was speaking the truth; the attack was too sudden, and the troops were in disarray.
Originally, everyone was in the camp waiting for breakfast, but who would have thought that suddenly the enemy would launch a fierce surprise attack from all sides.
The gunfire outside was still intense.
Colonel Kandar listened intently for a while.
"They won't be able to break in any ti soon! You quickly command the guard company to defend, don't rush to attack, take advantage of the favorable terrain around the camp to retaliate against those bastards, don't let them in!"
He almost spat out "don't let them find " but held back.
After all, that would make him seem too cowardly.
"Yes!"
Marlo gritted his teeth, nodded, and turned to crawl out.
Colonel Kandar hid behind an ammunition box, yelling into the satellite phone, "Jensen, did you hear that!? Get over here and save now! Otherwise, I'm done for, and your whole plan will be screwed. Without , the resistance alliance will fall apart and disintegrate!"
His tone carried a hint of threat.
Because Colonel Kandar knew his own identity, knew his own weight.
The Aricans wanted to use the rebels to overthrow the current governnt, and they needed his help.
The MLC was the strongest alliance among all the rebels, able to organize several other small groups due to his prestige and strength.
If he died.
Then the entire resistance alliance would fall apart.
He knew these rebel leaders well.
They were a bunch of cowards afraid of power but not virtue.
If he died, they probably wouldn't even bother overthrowing the current governnt and would imdiately, without hesitation, divide up his inheritance—weaponry, wealth, and soldiers.
"Hang in there."
Jensen's voice finally beca serious.
"My squad can reach you in thirty minutes."
"Thirty minutes?"
Colonel Kandar beca a bit hysterical.
The fear of death twisted his voice.
"By then, you'll be collecting my corpse!"
He slamd down the phone, turned to the communications officer who was already scared stiff: "Notify all frontline units to return and support! Imdiately! Now!"
The communications officer's fingers flew across the keyboard, then suddenly froze. He leaned to look at the antenna outside the tent.
He slowly raised his head, face paler than a corpse: "Sir... our radio antenna has been blown off, their shelling is extrely accurate..."
"Damn it!"
Colonel Kandar finally understood.
This wasn't a simple enemy raid; it was a ticulously planned decapitation operation.
He frantically took out the satellite phone again.
Luckily, all the rebel leaders had satellite phones, a gift from the Aricans.
It seed that his old radios weren't as effective as satellite phones, at crucial monts, high-tech was still the way to go.
Just as Colonel Kandar was desperately contacting his and allied forces, urging them to retreat, about 3 kiloters north of Gugula Canyon, the Green Berets' Humr convoy kicked up thick yellow dust, looking from afar like a moving earth dragon.
Major Jensen tossed the encrypted phone to Mc Carthy in the passenger seat, his face as dark as a thundercloud ready to burst.
"What's happening with Kandar? We can reach their camp in twenty minutes," Mc Carthy said.
"That idiot Kandar got scared to death, wailing like a donkey with a beaten backside."
Glancing out the window, a sneer flickered at the corner of his mouth: "He said Song Heping's people are flaying him alive."
Mc Carthy was checking the ammunition of the M320 grenade launcher in his hand: "Intel suggests the 'Musician' defense main force should be on the Lumar front; supposedly, those attacking Kandar aren't from the 'Musician' defense."
"I would very much like to know who's ambushing their command post."
Jensen raised his hand, wiping his face hard.
"That bastard actually sent a distress signal to those bigwigs in the White House, who then contacted the Pentagon to pressure us. Damn, he certainly knows how to use his connections."
He glanced at the GPS screen, then instructed the driver, "Take the canyon shortcut. I want to see Kandar's terrified face in twenty minutes."
The convoy roared into the narrowest part of the canyon's throat, the tires crushing gravel, creating an eerie echo among the rock walls.
What Jensen didn't know was that just two hundred ters ahead in a crevice, a figure wrapped in a desert camo net slowly lowered a pair of binoculars and whispered into the earpiece:
"The guests are in place, ti to serve the main course."
In the shadows deep in the canyon, more than a dozen infrared laser sighting dots lit up simultaneously, like a swarm of awakening vampire bats opening their eyes.
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