Mercenaries, I Will Be King Chapter 989 - 922: A Crushing Defeat

"Understood! Move out!"

Utekin's roar echoed particularly sharply in the tight radio channel, montarily drowning out the howling of the wind between the dunes.

No sooner had the words been spoken than he leapt forward like a leopard ready to spring, yanking open the heavy hatch and deftly slipping into the driver's compartnt of the BMP-97 infantry fighting vehicle, which was filled with the scent of oil and tal.

With hardly a mont's hesitation, he expertly twisted the key and stomped heavily on the ignition pedal.

Bzzzz—Boom!

A deep and mighty roar suddenly tore through the desert silence, as if a colossal beast sleeping underground had been awakened.

The powerful eight-cylinder diesel engine of the BMP-97 trembled violently, its exhaust pipe spewing a thick plu of black smoke that was quickly torn and scattered by the fierce wind.

The heavy steel fra of the light armored personnel carrier seed to be infused with violent vitality, making the gravel beneath its treads jump uneasily.

Almost at the sa mont the engine roared to life, the round hatch at the top of the turret was flung open with a clank.

Jiang Feng swiftly took his position, gripping the control lever of the 12.7mm heavy machine gun. The chill of the tal penetrated through his gloves, causing killing intent to flood his mind like a gushing spring.

He skillfully pulled the gun bolt with a crisp tallic snap, the thick yellow ammunition belt sliding smoothly, loading a large-caliber machine gun round into the chamber, ready to fire.

Inside the vehicle, Song Heping had already set aside the SVD sniper rifle and picked up his AK-12 assault rifle again, opening half of the window in the co-pilot seat and resting the gun barrel on the edge.

"Brothers, hold on tight!"

Sergei's voice echoed within the tallic walls of the compartnt: "Three, two, one—take down those bastards!"

"Do it!"

Rumble!

The massive BMP-97 broke free from its invisible shackles, its tires spewing clouds of yellow sand as it thundered out from behind the concealed dunes.

anwhile, at the chaotic center of the 1515 ard pickup convoy, the air was thick with the pungent stench of blood, gunpowder, and fear.

The deputy commander of the "Storm" unit, Abu Zari, was kneeling on the scorching sand, pressing both hands firmly against Ibrahim's chest, which was steadily seeping warm liquid.

His fingers, sleeves, and even half of his arm were drenched in the sticky, dark red blood, becoming sticky and black in the intense heat.

That damned bullet!

It was as precise as if the Grim Reaper himself had thrown a spear, entering from the side, easily tearing through Ibrahim's status-symbol tactical vest draped with ammo belts, piercing his strong chest, and erging from his back, leaving a ghastly, fist-sized bloody hole.

The through-and-through wound was like a rciless funnel, draining the warrior's life at an astonishing rate.

Each futile press made more blood foam uncontrollably gush from Ibrahim's mouth and nostrils, producing a "hiss... hiss..." sound that was as dreadful as a broken bellows.

The rapid blood loss had filled his chest cavity with fluid, making each weak inhale feel like drowning.

Ibrahim's once sharp, eagle-like gaze had now dimd to nothing but a muddied mixture of pain and imnse fear of death, fixed intently on Abu Zari, lips moving but only managing to spit out blood-flecked froth.

"Hang in there! Commander! Allah is above, hold on!"

Abu Zari yelled hoarsely, his voice twisted by extre fear and despair.

He fumbled frantically, trying to plug the two fatal holes with a torn-off headscarf, but the instant saturation of blood turned it into useless wet cloth.

He felt Ibrahim's body growing colder under his hands, the fla of life being inexorably extinguished.

The nearby militants were like a hive of disturbed hornets, so shooting wildly in suspicious directions, others trying to reverse their pickup trucks to use them as cover, so frozen in sheer terror.

The breakdown of the command chain instantaneously turned this once-notoriously fierce team into a scattered rabble.

As Abu Zari's mind was torn apart by the hellish scene and vain rescue efforts, a scream of extre terror exploded beside him: "Sir! Look over there! What… what the hell is that?!"

Abu Zari jerked his head up, following the direction indicated by his subordinate's trembling, nearly gun-dropping finger.

In that instant, ti seed to freeze.

His pupils shrank to pinpoints in utter horror, reflecting the ominous shadow of death erging from the swirling sand—

A BMP-97 infantry fighting vehicle, painted in desert camouflage, was charging towards the chaotic center point like a rampant beast.

The rumble of its tracks crushing the ground only now penetrated the chaotic noise, beating heavily like the war drum of the Grim Reaper upon every heart!

"Enemy attack—!!!"

Abu Zari's throat erupted in a tearing scream, nearly shredding his vocal cords.

"It's an ambush! There's an ambush behind us! Find cover quickly!!!"

At this mont, he finally understood completely.

The bullet that had just claid Ibrahim's life wasn't so damn stray shot! It was a ticulously planned sniper attack!

It was a precise and insidious decapitation strike by the enemy!

And they, the notoriously brutal and fierce mbers of 1515, had blunderingly walked straight into the enemy's carefully laid death trap.

He wished desperately to slap himself hard across the face twice.

But it was all too late.

"Hahaha! Go to hell, you filthy maggots!"

As the BMP-97 ca within 500 ters, Jiang Feng crushed the trigger of the heavy machine gun atop the vehicle.

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud—!!!

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud—!!!

The terrifying storm of 12.7mm caliber bullets descended in an instant!

The low-pitched and piercing burst of shots was no longer just a series of gunfire, but the roar of the Grim Reaper, the booming of the gates of Hell being thrown open.

The thick shells fell like a golden waterfall, clanging brightly onto the turret's tal floor, rapidly accumulating.

The blazing muzzle flash stretched half a ter, resembling the breath of a demon within the swirling dust.

The rain of bullets whistled sharply and piercingly through the air, pouring towards the cluster of pickup trucks surrounding Ibrahim's body at a speed nearly imperceptible to the human eye!

Boom—

The first to receive focused "attention" was a pickup truck loaded with rockets and ammunition.

A 12.7mm armor-piercing incendiary round pierced precisely into the open ammo box, triggering a catastrophic detonation.

An orange-red fireball rocketed skyward with a deafening roar, the scorching blast wave and deadly shockwave spreading in a spherical shape, instantly shredding the entire pickup truck into countless burning, twisted fragnts.

Several "Storm" mbers who had been hiding in panic behind the vehicle didn't even have ti to scream before being hurled into the air like rag dolls by the savage force, engulfed and dismbered by the flas in the next second.

Abu Zari felt an irresistible, scorching force smash into his back like an invisible battering ram.

His entire body was lifted off the ground, his vision blacked out, ears filled with a sharp ringing that drove him to the verge of collapse.

Seconds later, he crashed heavily onto the scorching sand.

Struggling, he tried with all his strength to lift his body, his vision blurred and shook from the violent impact.

The entire world seed warped, so unreal.

Abu Zari felt as if his spirit had been shaken loose from his body, his limbs seeming beyond control.

When he finally managed to lift his head, the sight reflected in his dilated pupils plunged him into an icy abyss—

The BMP-97 was already at close quarters, parked only a dozen ters away...