The jet fighter bombings were no small matter. Jackson imdiately thought of a surprise attack launched by so neighboring country, but then reconsidered—who would dare suddenly launch an airstrike on Sam Country? Upon further inquiry, a voice from his earpiece urgently reported: "Commander, the enemy situation is unclear. According to intel, the host country's military airport has been attacked in a raid. Could soone have seized the fighter jets and is now attacking us?"
"What?" Jackson exclaid in shock, almost roaring out, his sinister eyes flashing with deadly hostility. This ti, his mind instinctively thought of Luo Zheng, pondering that only Luo Zheng could pull off sothing like this, causing him to be alard. He demanded, "How many fighter jets? What's the damage to the host country's airport?"
"Two fighter jets attacked our base in a raid. The damage to the host country's airport is unknown, as contact cannot currently be established. The jets taking off smoothly at least indicates that the airport is under complete control of the raiders, and the losses should be significant," the other side hastily explained.
"Damn it, damned bastards," Jackson cursed in horror, chills running down his spine at the thought of the consequences of the fighter jets attacking the base, cold sweat breaking out all over his body. He quickly asked, "How much damage to the base?"
"The torrential rain makes it hard to estimate; the situation is being assessed. The enemy aircraft have headed west," the other side quickly responded.
"West, so it's indeed them. Damn it, bastards, this bunch of demons," Jackson roared, gazing at the rain-shrouded dense forest ahead, his expression cold and frosty, eyes filled with icy killing intent. He shouted, "Everyone, follow and chase them down. Take them out."
"Click-clack—click-clack!" Everyone chambered a round, looking coldly at Jackson, ready to pursue, curiosity flickering in their eyes, unaware of what was happening that could cause Jackson to show signs of going berserk, yet no one dared ask.
"Rumble!" Suddenly, the high-speed rotor noise of helicopters reached their ears, everyone startled and instinctively looked up at the rain-covered sky. The rain obscured their vision; nothing could be seen besides the rainwater, but the helicopter rumbling grew increasingly near. This familiar sound to them could not be mistaken.
Jackson also heard the sound, causing him to be suspicious. He pondered that he hadn't dispatched ard helicopters for support. He suddenly thought of the intelligence about the host country's airport being hijacked, his face transford drastically, and he roared, "Quick, disperse and find cover; watch out for air attacks, it's the enemy!"
"Enemy?" everyone questioned, surprised. Could a bunch of natives really fly helicopters to attack? But the innate military obedience led them to make the right choice: scattering quickly.
On a sunny day, they might detect the helicopter attack in advance, but rainy days are different; the rain not only blocked their vision but also masked the helicopter's sound. By the ti they heard it, it was already too late to react, as two missiles screeched down, violently tearing through the spatial barrier, fiercely rushing toward the dense forest.
Before these two missiles exploded, another two missiles screeched out, furiously smashing into the dense forest. This was followed by four deafening explosions in succession, shaking the surrounding trees to the ground. Red light burst from the forest, black smoke rolled upwards amidst the rain, as if a demon was sneering, horrifying to the extre.
Before the explosions ceased, two helicopters erged from the rain curtain, appearing above the dense forest like invincible War Gods descending from the skies. Fierce Miniguns poured terrifying bullets into the forest below, dense as rain, leaving a ss beneath.
After the assault, the ard helicopters lifted off and left, without glancing back at the enemies behind. The attack site was a desolate sight, trees thick as bowl rims were broken by explosions. The people hiding beneath were left in pools of blood, groaning in pain, shouting sothing.
Under a big tree, Jackson struggled to climb up, involuntarily coughing a few tis, feeling a sweetness in his throat as a mouthful of blood surged up, spraying onto the ground, instantly rging with the rainwater like blooming blood flowers, eerily strange. Jackson clutched his chest tightly, his face ashen as he glanced around, noticing a corpse lying not far from him, the body severed in two, intestines scattered everywhere, an extrely miserable death.
Enduring his grief and anger, Jackson hurriedly checked his surroundings, finding many brothers lying in pools of blood, either with severed hands or feet, so bodies directly blown apart, with no intact spot, now resembling a Shura-induced hell, terrifying to the extre.
"Ah—" Jackson cried out in grief and indignation, fury overwheld him, and another mouthful of blood surged up, making him feel dizzy and his body went limp on the ground as if drained of strength. Jackson's eyes went blank and spiritless, staring at the surroundings, his brothers with whom he had shared life and death, all gone just like that?
"Defeated again, you're a demon!" Jackson muttered, his face aghast and devoid of fighting spirit. The host country's airport raided, the base bombed, plus three Pot Lid Head Special Warfare Groups attacked by ard helicopters, Jackson already guessed sothing, knowing he was defeated once more, utterly incapable of countering.
Jackson was already numb to defeat, defeated too many tis, but this ti made him deeply terrified, as if facing an apocalypse. This fear penetrated the depths of his soul, stripping him of battle intent and fighting spirit, leaving him dazedly watching countless injured brothers, dumbstruck and stupefied.
Jackson sat motionless on the ground, gaze vacant and lifeless at the surroundings, eyes dull, complexion ashen like earth, the whole person like a stone sculpture. If not for the occasional blink of his eyelids proving he's alive, he would've been mistaken for a dead person. After a while, a Reconnaissance Team approached from the rear to assess the situation, seeing the ground littered with severed limbs and flesh, blood washed by the rain forming rivers, the intense stench thick, utterly terrifying. Each was shocked and at a loss for what to do, and the officer swiftly tried contacting headquarters but found they couldn't reach anyone.
At this mont, a surviving Pot Lid Head stumbled forward from the rear, face full of grief, bloodshot eyes, gasping heavily, a cold sharp gaze sweeping across the brothers' bodies on the ground, tears streaming down hotly from his eyes. With a sorrowful cry, he urged, "Quick, quick, save the brothers, damn it, what are you standing around for, quick!"
The survivor yelled frantically, searching around madly, soon spotting Jackson staring vacantly. He quickly rushed over, unaware of the vine beneath his feet, staggered forward, nearly falling to the ground. Rising, he gazed at Jackson, crying bitterly, "Boss, they're gone, all the brothers are gone—!"
The voice was sorrowful, incomparably tragic.
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