Song Heping had just jumped into the car when bullets rained down on the car door, clanging loudly.
Even though he was a seasoned warrior, this ti Song Heping was shocked into cold sweat.
After so many battles, this was the most aggrieved and disadvantageous one.
It felt like being suppressed completely, not daring to lift his head.
"Hunter is still in the car!"
Song Heping pushed open the car door again, waved to Hunter in the opposite car, and shouted, "Co over!"
After saying that, he raised his gun and fiercely fired at a nearby gun position, directly suppressing them.
Hunter gritted his teeth and struggled to prop himself up, suddenly darting through the open car door towards Song Heping.
He had just jumped in when he scread miserably.
Song Heping quickly dragged him into the car, hands feeling a moist sensation.
Blood!
He didn't even need to look to know it was blood.
But now there was no ti to check Hunter's injuries.
"Are you okay?!"
"Okay... I can hold on!"
Hunter was already taking deep breaths as he answered.
This ant he was using his breathing to suppress his pain.
"Is everyone in the car?!"
Song Heping leaned against the car window while shooting and shouted loudly.
"In the car!"
It's unclear who yelled a reply from the car behind.
Now it was impossible to count the number of people.
The two ends of the Ferrari are bulletproof, but already scarred, and the windshield had shattered into a cobweb pattern, hindering the view ahead.
"Let's retreat!"
Song Heping decisively made the decision.
The Ferrari shifted gears, stepping hard on the accelerator.
The bulletproof modified Jeep suddenly turned around, charging towards the broken camp wall gap in the rain of bullets.
Bam—
Suddenly, Song Heping felt a warmth on his left shoulder.
A bullet hole appeared on the windshield.
A sniper rifle bullet penetrated the already strained glass, entering the cabin and taking away a piece of flesh from Song Heping's shoulder.
Sniper had them targeted!
Song Heping was undoubtedly the pri target.
The Ferrari sharply steered, skidding in the rain of bullets.
At this mont, another sniper bullet hit the car, the side window glass shattered into pieces.
"Hold on tight!" The Ferrari slamd the gas, steering the Jeep to charge toward the wall gap again.
Song Heping clenched his teeth until they clicked.
He saw the sniper on the wall not far away.
Just as he had reminded Wula before, this guy was wearing jungle camo decidedly out of place with the environnt.
"Go to hell!"
Song Heping mounted his gun on the car fra, starting to aim at the opponent.
On the wall top, the sniper scope's reflection flashed.
The opponent was also aiming at him.
Bang bang bang—
Song Heping fired first.
Dust exploded around the sniper.
He was clearly startled.
He hadn't expected Song Heping to shoot accurately and quickly even when injured and driving!
In just that mont of hesitation.
The sniper was already contemplating retreat, intending to escape.
At the instant he shrank back, Song Heping fired a second ti.
Bang bang bang—
This ti he wasn't as lucky as before.
A 7.62mm bullet hit his forehead, directly taking away most of the skull cap.
Boom—
Having dealt with the sniper, the Ferrari's front car had just rushed out of the gap, when Song Heping suddenly heard a loud explosion from behind.
He imdiately looked into the rear-view mirror.
In the mirror, the last car in the convoy was flipped over by an RPG rocket, lying upside down by the roadside.
A few Special Forces soldiers were faintly visible crawling out from the thick smoke, staggering heavily wounded, barely standing before they were shot into a honeycomb by the approaching governnt army soldiers, and fell to the ground lifeless.
Gunfire was still sporadically ringing out.
In the end, with the convoy's speed too fast, it beca inaudible.
The convoy quickly left the camp, heading west.
That was the front line against the Rebel Alliance.
Also the area controlled by Lumar's troops.
Seeing the coast was clear, Song Heping finally noticed the wound on his shoulder still bleeding. He hurriedly tore open the first-aid pack and pressed it onto his shoulder.
At that mont, he rembered the Hunter in the back seat.
"Hunter! How do you feel, kid?!"
He turned around and saw Hunter lying sideways on the back seat, lips pale, forcing a smile, "Can't die... Boss, I'm tough..."
Ignoring his own injuries, Song Heping quickly climbed into the backseat, retrieved another first-aid kit, took out the scissors, removed Hunter's tactical vest, and began searching for the source of bleeding from head to toe.
The Jeep, riddled with bullet holes, let out a teeth-gritting groan on the bumpy road.
Hunter no longer moaned, his eyes closed as if in a deep sleep, making Song Heping's temples throb violently.
"Wake up! Don't sleep! Hang in there!"
He scread as he tore open Hunter's tactical vest, the heavy scent of blood instantly filling the cabin.
When he cut open the camouflage uniform, Song Heping's breath stopped for a mont—a bullet had torn a grim wound in Hunter's lower right abdon. Intestines pulsed with each breath, while dark red blood gushed out like shaken champagne.
It was just outside the protective zone of the bulletproof plate; a bullet had grazed the plate, pierced the tactical vest, and entered the abdominal cavity.
Ferrari glanced at the rearview mirror and asked, "Do you need to stop?"
"Keep driving!"
Song Heping pressed his knee against Hunter's femoral artery, pulled out hemostatic cotton, and pressed it onto the wound.
Blood-soaked cotton quickly piled up in his palm. Hunter's pupils began to dilate, and his pale lips murmured weakly, "Cold..."
Cold?
Song Heping felt the hairs on his body stand on end.
The "Musician" team had traveled so far, fought so many battles, and this was the first ti Song Heping had seen a core mber so close to death.
Catching a chill is a sign of hypovolemic shock.
Song Heping tore off his armband and stuffed it between Hunter's teeth, "Bite down!"
He pulled out a tactical knife to cut open Hunter's belt and found a second gunshot wound—the bullet had entered through the lower back, forming a bowl-sized exit wound above the iliac bone.
The bodily fluids seeping out continuously—this was a fatal injury that could kill within twenty minutes.
"Steady... steady..."
Song Heping constantly reminded himself to stay calm.
Then he clamped the ruptured vein with hemostatic forceps.
Hunter suddenly arched his body, letting out an inhuman whimper, his fingers leaving five bloodied marks on the bulletproof roof.
"Morphine!" Song Heping banged his head against the back of the seat.
Ferrari, one hand on the wheel, fumbled in the front seat dical bag for a morphine syringe and tossed it to the back seat.
Song Heping quickly removed the protective cover of the morphine needle, exposing the needle tip, and assured Hunter, "Hold on, it won't hurt soon!"
When the needle pierced the vein, Hunter's convulsing muscles suddenly relaxed.
Song Heping seized the mont to stuff an entire roll of hemostatic gauze into the abdominal cavity.
This brutal procedure, typical of a battlefield hospital, made Hunter scream in pain once more.
"Aow—"
The scream made Song Heping feel as if his heart were being gripped tightly, causing unbearable discomfort.
But he had no choice.
Battlefield first aid was completely different from hospital surgery.
Battlefield first aid emphasized speed, effectiveness, and life-saving!
Surgery in a hospital was usually more refined, focusing on intricacies.
As for pain, that wasn't sothing battlefield first aid considered.
"Damn it!"
Song Heping tore open Hunter's Lianoning port, reaching for the carotid artery in his neck.
The pulse at his fingertips was weak as if a candle flickered in the wind.
He tore open the last layer of the first-aid pack, and three ampoules filled with transparent liquid glimred amber in the sunlight—these were the Special Forces' issued cardiac stimulant sets, costly life-saving items personally procured from the black market for each team mber.
But anything with super-fast efficacy often ca with side effects. The side effect of this stimulator was that if misused, the violent stimulus could burst a healthy person's heart.
Song Heping glanced at the desolate wilderness outside the car window, realizing he had no choice.
He unhesitatingly snapped the ampoule, drew approximately three milliliters of the substance with the needle, located Hunter's precordial area, and stabbed fiercely!
When half of the solution had been pushed, Hunter started convulsing violently like a fish out of water.
"Respiratory arrest!"
Song Heping leaned forward, pinched Hunter's nose, disregarding the male-to-male contact taboo, opened his mouth wide, and infused breath tasting of gunpowder into Hunter's lungs.
After five artificial respirations, he clenched his fist and delivered a hard blow straight to Hunter's sternum.
"Gah—"
With a sound like a drowning man abruptly waking, Hunter's Adam's apple moved, coughing up foam tinged with blood, and Song Heping seized the opportunity to inject the remaining solution fully.
Gradually, Hunter's breathing began to stabilize, his eyes opened, though his breathing remained a bit rapid.
Song Heping once again checked his pulse.
This ti, the pulse beca strong.
"Damn..."
He plopped down on the backseat floor.
"We have to find a field hospital fast, or the casualties will increase..."
As he muttered to himself, Ferrari handed over a satellite phone, "Lumar wants you."
"That bastard!"
Song Heping now had the urge to blow the other's head off.
He grabbed the phone, his tone sour, "Lumar, did you set up?!"
When General Wula presented photos and declared Song Heping's participation in planning a coup for the opposition, that was the mont Song Heping realized he had been tricked.
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