"I've received two pieces of bad news..."
Hassan took out his phone and handed it to Song Heping.
"This was just sent over from Damascus..."
Song Heping's brow furrowed as he took the phone, his gaze landing on the screen.
On the screen, that pixelated, constantly shaking video clip played silently — on the sandy ground, a rcenary's mostly white figure was violently pressed to kneel, a black hood covering the entire head, while next to them, ard n raised a distinctive long blade...
The subsequent content was extrely grueso.
The rcenary's head was almost cut off with brutal strokes...
And the video's backdrop was the QZ Temple's silhouette in Ashara Town, whose spire had been blasted to ruins.
"It's said that Ashara Town was breached, and 1515's ard forces are clearing out captured Wake Na rcenaries..."
Hassan's tone was heavy.
"Suka!!"
Utekin suddenly smashed his fist onto the ammo box, sending wood splinters flying, yellow bullets tumbling all over the floor.
"Damn it!"
His neck veins bulged like worms, his eyes fixed intensely on the blood-stained knife on the screen.
"Did you confirm their identity?" Song Heping's voice was exceptionally calm, like a frozen river, eyes locked deep into Hassan's gaze.
"Resolution is too low, can't make out the face."
Hassan shook his head, carrying the exhaustion of being crushed by reality.
"But judging by the outfit, it seems to be Wake Na's rcenaries..."
Utekin stood in the corner shadow, his face iron-gray, lips pressed into a rigid line.
"I won't give up without seeing the cook's body." Song Heping handed the phone back to Hassan and asked, "What's the second piece of bad news?"
"Deir Ezzor..."
Hassan took a deep breath, as if swallowing shards of glass: "Orders from above to abandon support. The 104th Brigade...General Issam refused to withdraw his troops, insisting on defending Deir Ezzor with his life..."
His throat shifted, his voice suddenly rose, filled with uncontrollable grief and anger.
"They ordered to stay here, guard this damned port, and play doorman for the Russians!"
"Issam?"
Song Heping's brow tightened.
He's heard this na before; it's said that the 104th Brigade is led by him, one of the most combat-effective units of the governnt army.
You can see Hassan's near-reverent admiration for him.
Making a general like him abandon the rescue of besieged comrades and the city is simply incomprehensible.
It seems the Cilia Governnt's current situation is really not good; probably planning to tighten the defensive lines and retreat to the coastal areas to hold.
But...
"Yes, General Issam." Hassan breathed heavily, his chest heaving dramatically, "He can't die for nothing! And Deir Ezzor can't just be lost like this! If that place falls into the hands of those 1515 beasts, the whole east..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone understood what it ant — Deir Ezzor is a critical town in the east; once breached, the entire east and center would be defenseless, enabling the 1515 forces to march straight in, completely opening up a poison snake corridor straight to Damascus.
The situation has deteriorated rapidly, like an avalanche.
Hassan was pinned down in Latakia, the fresh reinforcents to Deir Ezzor ordered to stay put, Ashara Town possibly fallen, the cook's fate uncertain...
Beside Song Heping, only Jiang Feng and Utekin remained, three people, 370 kiloters filled with mines, ambush sites, and various factions' ard conflict zones, targeting straight at the central heavily guarded core of the 1515 forces — this was no longer a mission, it was a suicide invitation.
The site was dead silent, only the occasional encrypted radio wave's hissing, like the Grim Reaper whispering.
Outside the window, beneath the azure sky of Latakia port, seagulls cried mournfully.
Song Heping's gaze swept over Jiang Feng, then over Utekin's stormy blue eyes, finally fixing on Hassan's face, etched with unwillingness and pain.
He had no ti to be angry, nor the right to despair.
But he had a premonition — that the cook guy wasn't dead!
"Hassan." Song Heping's voice broke the silence, clear as ice spikes tapping, "Give n, give vehicles. One squad, three BPM-97 IFVs."
"What?!"
Hassan thought he misheard and suddenly looked up, his bloodshot eyes wide open.
He quickly understood.
"Song! Are you crazy? One squad? Three vehicles? Crossing half of Cilia?! Do you know what that's like, parading in an armored coffin? Freedom Army, Kurd people, 1515...and countless mines and IEDs! I wouldn't even be sure with a platoon!"
He pointed at the map with the route from Latakia winding towards Deir Ezzor, almost entirely covered in red representing enemy territory, his fingers trembling.
"I know."
Song Heping calmly t his shocked and angry gaze: "But this is the only way to reach Ashara Town within 36 hours. Wheeled armored vehicles are fast, and BMP-97 firepower is decent. Disguised as a retreating small governnt army mobile unit, they're small targets and might just slip through."
Hassan opened his mouth to argue, but seeing Song Heping's eyes filled with undeniable resolve, like tempered steel, held all his words in his throat.
He irritably grabbed his hair and turned in place twice, then suddenly stopped, yelling towards the door, "Is! Get in here!"
The door was pushed open, and a lean, young officer with several old and new scars on his face strode in.
He looked at most twenty-three or four, but his gaze held sharpness and calmness beyond his years, like a seasoned soldier.
"Sir!"
He saluted Hassan crisply.
"Death God Squad, along with your n, are now under Mr. Song's command!"
Hassan's voice was firm and decisive, carrying a reckless determination.
"Three BPM-97s, maximum ammunition load! Bring all your treasured weapons!"
Is' gaze quickly swept over Song Heping and behind him Jiang Feng, Utekin, showing no surprise or doubt, only the absolute obedience of a soldier receiving orders: "Understood, sir! Death God Squad ready to depart at any ti!"
"Song."
Hassan turned to Song Heping, his voice lowered, carrying unprecedented gravity as he pointed to Is: "These guys... their average age is less than nineteen, but they're the elite of my unit, rember to... try to bring them back."
The last few words were almost squeezed out through clenched teeth.
However, he knew very well in his heart.
This was just a request.
But not a guaranteed result.
Song Heping's gaze fell on Is' face, still carrying a hint of youthful softness, yet prematurely etched with determination by smoke and scars.
He nodded slightly, without making any promise: "I can only say I'll do my best."
Then he turned and said to Is: "Lieutenant Is, we set off in five minutes."
"Yes, sir!"
Is saluted again, turned, and rushed out the door, his footsteps rapidly receding in the empty corridor.
Ten minutes later.
Outside the police station gate.
The roar of engines brutally tore through the dawn silence, drowning out the faint sound of waves from the distant harbor.
Three BPM-97 "Archer" wheeled armored personnel carriers, their massive bulletproof tires crushed the rough concrete ground, a 12.7mm heavy machine gun on the roof manned by a soldier from the Death God Squad.
Is stood by the open top hatch of a BPM-97, speaking rapidly to the eleven soldiers gathered around the vehicle.
These soldiers—the Death God Squad, indeed so young it was startling.
Their youthful faces were covered by camouflage scarves, bodies draped with ammo belts, hand grenades, canteens, the heavy gear nearly bending their thin shoulders, yet their eyes, like those of Is, burned with a mixture of tension, excitent, and a fearless bravado like that of a newborn calf.
"Check weapons! Confirm ammunition load! Test communication channels! Wear sandstorm masks! Last thirty seconds!"
Is' voice remained clear and strong amidst the engine roar.
Song Heping, Jiang Feng, and Utekin each boarded a vehicle.
Song Heping settled into the leading BMP-97, with Jiang Feng right behind him.
Utekin joined Is in the middle BPM-97.
The heavy hatch closed with a bang, as Is' voice ca through the internal radio.
"Death God Squad calling Commander, all personnel in position, requesting departure!"
"Depart imdiately."
Song Heping's voice ca through the headset, calm as a rock: "Route: Highway 7. Target: Deir Ezzor. Open fire at will in case of ergencies. Depart."
"Death God Squad understands! Depart!" Is repeated the order.
The leading BMP-97 lunged forward, its massive track grinding over the last solid piece of concrete before the base gate, kicking up a cloud of dust, charging eastward towards the vast, barren expanse etched by the morning light.
Outside the vehicle windows, the gray-blue sky was quickly consud by the massive dust plu rising behind the car.
Latakia Port, the salty sea breeze of the diterranean, the towering radar antennas of the Russian Military Base...
All symbols of order and safety were swiftly receding, blurring, and finally vanishing.
In their place, an endless, monotonous palette of earth tones and ochre, rolling dunes like frozen yellow waves, sparse, withered shrubs shaking hopelessly in the wind.
Inside the vehicle, the atmosphere was oppressive and focused.
The roar of the engines, the sound of tracks and wheels crushing sand and stone was the only background noise. Song Heping scanned the horizon ahead and on the flanks through the narrow observation windows of the BMP-97 with sharp eyes.
Jiang Feng sat beside him, repeatedly checking the 30mm ammo belts stacked nearby.
Ti passed in the monotonous yet tense journey.
Soon it was noon, the sun climbed high overhead, rcilessly baking the exposed desert.
Inside the armored vehicle felt like a steam cooker, a suffocating mix of engine oil, sweat, tal, and dust.
The soldiers took turns peering through the small shooting openings to observe the outside world, sweat trickling down their face paint-streaked cheeks, soaking into their filthy uniforms in dark patches.
"Head Wolf, Death God Squad reporting."
Suddenly, Is' voice broke the hours-long silence in the communication channel, carrying a barely perceptible gravity.
"Up ahead... sothing's not right."
Song Heping imdiately picked up the binoculars, looking ahead through the observation window.
About three kiloters away, at the edge of a once desolate dune, appeared a patch of chaotic shadows.
As the distance closed, the shadows' outlines gradually sharpened—a town.
He imdiately took out the map—here, all GPS signal positioning had been disabled by the Aricans.
That was precisely the effect they wanted, cutting off all military equipnt of the Cilia army, weakening their combat strength, enabling the opposition to smoothly capture Damascus, and overthrow the current regi.
"Looks like there are people..."
Song Heping saw nurous figures appearing in his binoculars' view.
He increased the magnification to see more clearly...
"All vehicles prepare for combat!"
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