air raid
"Bang!" A powerful kick, accompanied by a dull thud, struck Meng Tuo's wrist, which was holding the needle.
The syringe, mixed with blood and drugs, flew out of his hand, hit a nearby rock, and shattered instantly.
Miles strode forward and quickly scanned Milo's body for needle marks or wounds. After confirming that it was just a scratch, he breathed a slight sigh of relief: "It's alright, Milo. Look at me, it's alright."
Meng Tuo clutched his wrist, which was throbbing from the kick, but the rage on his face twisted into a strange smile when he saw who it was. He shook his hand and said, "Heh, you came pretty fast. Don't be nervous, it was just a joke. I was just trying to scare him. Did he really take it seriously?"
Miles slowly turned around, shielding Milo behind him, his icy gaze piercing straight at Mengtuo.
As Miles turned away, Harold, who had been silent all along, placed his right hand on his lower back. He lowered his stance slightly, his gaze locking onto Meng Tuo and his restless men beside him.
Seeing this, Meng Tuo smirked, his voice suddenly rising in anger and rage: "Miles! You fucking think this through! You dare to lay a hand on me for such a lowly thing?"
The mountain breeze rustling through the treetops became increasingly clear amidst the heavy breathing of the group.
A faint yet deadly sharp sound tore through the stagnant air. Almost simultaneously, one of Meng Tuo's trusted subordinates, who was about to draw his gun, suddenly jolted, a cloud of blood mist bursting from his temple without warning. He collapsed to the ground as if his bones had been removed, without uttering a sound.
The wound was extremely small, but its location was precise and fatal. The shooter was a sniper, and a high-precision sniper rifle equipped with a highly effective silencer.
"Over there on the hill! Take cover!" Meng Tuo's pupils constricted sharply. He reacted with lightning speed, roaring as he lunged towards the nearest rocky cover. His men were thrown into chaos, frantically searching for cover and hastily drawing their guns to fire blindly in the direction of the hill from which the gunfire was likely coming from.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The chaotic gunfire instantly shattered the silence of the forest, bullets whistling as they flew up the hillside, sending rocks flying and branches snapping.
The instant the shot rang out, Harold had already drawn his pistol from the quick-draw holster on his back waist and pushed Miles and Milo behind an abandoned SUV.
"Get down!" Harold growled, quickly searching for the source of the threat and possible firing angles.
The counterattack began on the hilltop. It was no longer single-shot sniping, but short, precise bursts of fire. The bullets seemed to have eyes, striking from tricky angles high above, each shot accompanied by a muffled groan or a scream.
In the chaos, deafening gunshots and explosive ringing echoed wildly within Milo's skull.
A few meters away, in a low-lying ditch, a small, thin figure was clutching his head tightly, completely exposed to the chaotic battle amidst flying bullets.
“Apa!” Milo cried out in disbelief.
"Stay put! Don't move!" Almost simultaneously, Miles pressed down on Milo's shoulder, the immense force slamming him back behind the cover.
A chilling coldness instantly shot from the soles of Milo's feet to the top of his head. He clearly saw the absolute rationality in Miles' eyes.
In Miles's game, Apa, this insignificant child, is clearly a price or trouble that can be sacrificed, abandoned, or discarded.
Just like him, when Miles was negotiating business with Xigong in Gangu, he also made a decisive choice between profit and himself.
Lies. Everything Miles told him at his bedside was just a lie.
"Get out of my way!" Milo gathered all his strength, twisted his body, and slammed his shoulder into Miles's restraints.
Miles was thrown off balance by the sudden force, his face instantly filled with shock and disbelief: "Milo! Are you trying to die?" He tried to reach out to stop him again, but Milo had already rushed out.
Milo completely ignored the bullets whistling sharply in his ears and tearing through the air. He rushed to the edge of the pit, grabbed Apa's arm, and used all his strength to drag him out of the pit and shield him with his body.
Several deadly streaks of fire grazed almost past Milo's back and sides, sending blinding sparks flying onto the ground.
Miles' eyes widened suddenly, and his heart almost stopped.
Strangely, the bullets that should have riddled Milo with bullets seemed to have eyes, precisely avoiding his movement trajectory, creating only an extremely dangerous sense of pressure, without actually hitting him or Apa.
Harold rushed forward and, together with Milo, quickly dragged the terrified Apa back to the relatively safe rear wheel position of the off-road vehicle.
Milo was breathing heavily, his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to explode, and waves of dizziness from the adrenaline were washing over him.
Miles rushed over, grabbed Milo by the collar, and slammed him against the car. His face was filled with unprecedented rage and fear: "You'd risk your life for a stranger? Are you out of your mind?"
Milo leaned against the cold car, still catching his breath. His gaze fell on Miles's angry face, then he glanced instinctively toward the hill where the gunshots were coming from, a cold smile playing on his lips.
Scattered shell casings flew by, and Harold picked one up. As he looked at it, his expression turned serious.
This bullet is anything but ordinary. It feels heavy in your hand, and the 7.62×54mmR caliber is its defining characteristic. The percussion cap indentation on the bottom of the cartridge case is unusually neat, with a touch of non-military standard-issue precision, and the edges even have an almost obsessive-compulsive smoothness.
A name exploded in Harold's mind. It was the Ghost mercenary group, existing only on the dark web, composed of top-tier retired agents and elites, and entrenched in the north for years. These people operated with secrecy, were well-equipped, and commanded astronomical prices. Their client list consisted exclusively of political giants or oligarchs capable of shaking the world order. And in recent years, the only person with verifiable records of being able to buy this Ghost was Arian Thornton.
Harold's heart began to pound.
The deadly bullet tore through the air, grazing precisely the ground where Harold had just stood, sending up shards of gravel that struck his trouser leg, leaving a scorching mark.
This was by no means a mistake.
Harold's heart pounded, and cold sweat instantly soaked his back. With these men's marksmanship, taking his life at this distance would be a piece of cake.
They deliberately missed.
It wasn't a mistake, it was a warning.
Why?
A colder, more terrifying thought instantly surfaced: They weren't letting him go, but rather the person beside him.
Harold abruptly turned his head, his gaze fixed on Milo behind Miles: "These people are hired by him."
"What did you say?" Miles was stunned and couldn't help but look at Milo, only then noticing the dark light gleaming in Milo's two dark pupils beneath his sweaty exterior.
"You actually persuaded Ariel to act as your go-between? You actually want to kill these drug lords?" Miles' voice was filled with disbelief. "Milo, you're insane."
"Crazy?" Milo's voice was deep and steady, creating an eerie contrast with his slightly rapid breathing. "I won't go crazy until you're wishing you were dead."
His original plan was to seize the transportation rights in Taran, bypassing Xigong and the drug lord Mengtuo in Gangu. However, to prepare for the worst and prevent Xigong and Mengtuo from joining forces to eliminate him, he also used Arien's connections to obtain Arien's promise to place an order with this group of world-class mercenaries, all in order to kill these drug lords and clear the way for his plan.
Arian's line was deep, expensive, and worthwhile. He didn't lack money; he lacked capable people. What happened at Sullair National Park taught him a profound lesson: few people in the world were as useful as Blaise, and without Blaise, his life would be in grave danger. Therefore, he needed a group of the best as a safety net.
Milo gave a slight, cold laugh: "I underestimated you before and fell into your and Pom La Song's trap. But it doesn't matter. Once these drug lords are dead, Pom La Song and his gang will have to choose sides. At that time, with Gan Gu in power, who will be safer, me or my much safer overseas partner? Isn't the answer obvious?"
By any means necessary. A tremor ran through Miles as he realized that Milo had begun to use any means necessary to achieve his goals. For the first time, he saw Milo's appearance so clearly. No, the person standing before him was not Milo of Wudong Port, but Theo Green, the ghost who should have been dead.
A cold and absurd thought flashed through Miles' mind like lightning.
If that massacre of his entire family hadn't happened, if Richard Green's priceless medical patents hadn't been plundered... then Theo Green, who inherited immense wealth and top-tier resources, could have achieved far more than just a small part of Lanman. He could very well have become a rising star across the entire Southern landscape, a figure who could rival Arian Thornton.
But that version of Theo Green would have been a glamorous, dazzling figure, the center of attention. Not the paranoid man he is now, struggling in various quagmires, his mind completely warped.
Did he change Theo Green's life?
Could it be that Milo's existence was nothing more than a false dream?
Miles' mind went blank, and for a moment, the hand that was holding Milo suddenly lost its grip.
A loud, rhythmic roar, growing louder as it approached, quickly drowned out the gunfire on the ground.
The three of them instinctively looked up.
Four dark gray helicopters flew low behind the mountain ridge like giant steel eagles, their huge rotors stirring up the air currents, kicking up clouds of dust and fallen leaves, and emitting deafening roars.
The cabin door was wide open, and armed personnel wearing black hoods and holding automatic rifles could be clearly seen inside, with the cold muzzles of their guns pointing downwards.
The helicopter did not hover, but flew low over the area where the remnants of Mengtuo were hiding with an extremely oppressive feel, and the powerful downdraft almost knocked people over.
Harold narrowed his eyes and said uneasily, "It's the people from Gan Valley. They're going to get serious about cracking down on drugs."
*
“Blaze, eleven o’clock.” Hersey’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke into the helicopter.
Nonai, adjusting his headphones, said, "The fighting has already started down there, and I haven't seen Milo and Apa yet."
A fierce wind swept through the air as Blaze, clad in camouflage and a face covering, leaned against the cabin door, his sniper rifle resting steadily on his lap, the sound of bullets whistling through the air ringing out.
Hesai rubbed his hands together, and Chatchai turned around and shouted to everyone, "I'll repeat the mission again: wipe out the Mengtuo hideout and rescue the captured personnel."
While putting on the device, Chatchai grabbed Hesai's hand and whispered, "Keep an eye on Blaise."
Hessai said reluctantly, "Why don't you go? You're too old for him; of course he won't lay a hand on you. I don't want to get beaten up by him." Hersai lowered her voice, a hint of lingering fear in her voice, "This time he's really angry. Didn't you see his face? They dared to kidnap Apa and that pretty boy; Blaze would absolutely blow Mengtuo to pieces! And Apa is your grandson! If it were me? Killing Mengtuo ten times would be too good for that bastard! Why are you still trying to persuade me?"
Chachai's face was grim, clearly showing he was holding back: "I'm just repeating a task."
Blaise raised his hand and tapped the trigger guard twice with his index finger. Chachai understood and, without saying another word, immediately unlocked the weapon case.
Armor-piercing shells pierced through the morning mist and exploded on the mountain with a thunderous roar. Before long, thick smoke billowed up.
The powerful recoil of the bullet caused the plane to veer off course. Hessey clung tightly to the roof anchor ring, and the helicopter swerved violently. The impact was so strong that even someone of his size couldn't help but stagger.
Blaze, seemingly oblivious, grabbed the helicopter's rappelling rope with one hand and made a rapid descent amidst the intense feeling of weightlessness. A dozen or so Snakeskin special forces members in camouflage uniforms landed via three other rappelling ropes, disengaged their submachine guns, and, under Blaze's command, began their well-trained ascent into the mountains.
Gunfire rang out continuously. Blaze fired three short bursts in quick succession, the bullets piercing the enemy's throat, and the checkpoint at the front gate was completely captured.
Before the blood mist even hit the ground, Blaze's left hand had already drawn an arc in the air.
Hessai understood and shouted into his headset, "Group B crossfire! Group A score!"
The team moved forward in a coordinated and orderly manner.
As he rounded the corner, Blaze spread his right hand outstretched and then clenched it into a fist, and the Snakesling team members following behind him instantly ducked against the wall to hide.
Just as a figure flashed past the window, Blaze switched shoulders and fired rapidly. A drug dealer was pushed out to shield him from the bullet, which barely pierced the target's shoulder. After a cry of pain, a spray of blood erupted behind Meng Tuo.
Seeing that Mengtuo was about to escape, Blaze lowered the muzzle of his gun, and a bullet hit his ankle and another hit his right hand holding the gun. Mengtuo screamed and fell down.
Blaze stepped forward and stood with his legs apart. Beneath the mask, his deep eyes, like two icy pools, were fixed on Meng Tuo, who was slumped on the ground with blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
He flicked his index finger, pointing the gun at Meng Tuo's forehead.
Standing to Blaise's side and slightly behind, Hersey immediately understood the meaning of the gesture and asked on Blaise's behalf, "Where is he?"
Meng Tuo grinned, revealing bloodstained teeth, and let out a grotesque, cacophony: "You deaf! Mute! Crippled! Bastard! Go ahead and kill me if you dare!"
Hessai took another half step forward, his voice even louder than before: "I'll ask you one last time, where is he!"
Meng Tuo's facial muscles twitched wildly, the shadow of death looming so clearly. He suddenly straightened his back, almost defiantly raising his head to meet the gun barrel: "Looking for someone? You're dreaming!"
"Bang!"
Meng Tuo's head, which had just been filled with madness and provocation, suddenly tilted back, splattering warm, red and white blood mixed with brain matter and bone fragments all over the ground.
Blaise showed no expression; he didn't even look at the corpse on the ground, but simply strode forward with steady steps.
Hersey followed closely behind. He could tell that Blaise was in an extremely bad mood.
A deafening roar erupted as the gunfire of T-84 tanks at the foot of the mountain suddenly tore through the jungle.
Blaise looked back, frowned slightly, and gestured towards the sky.
Chachai, on the helicopter, realized something was wrong. He turned his binoculars, pressed his earpiece, and after confirming the information with the people around him, he quickly replied, "Someone has come in from down the mountain. It's the Tengbang government army."
"Damn! How many groups of people are trying to get involved today?" Hersey on the mountain was shocked. "Damn it, didn't they always claim they didn't want to get involved in these two brothers' affairs? They only ever push the anti-drug work onto us, and all they ever do is issue some meaningless statements! Now they're trying to steal the credit? How despicable!"
Chatchai frowned. How could the government forces have timed their raids into the mountains so precisely? Clearly, something was amiss.
Chatchai adjusted his headset: "Blaze, the government troops have brought heavy weapons. They are obviously going to level Mount Chira. Monto has stockpiled a lot of explosives. You have to speed things up! Otherwise, these people may show no mercy and kill you all as well."
Blaise had already rushed toward the source of the sound, his left hand behind his back signaling a tactical formation change.
On the other plane, Nonai quickly monitored the situation and his voice came through: "There's a large amount of C4 explosives in Sector C. Preliminary estimate: three minutes left." Then, Nonai's voice rose, "I see Milo and Apa! They're in Sector C!"
Blaise raised his left hand and made a decisive gesture.
Hersey relayed Blaise's assessment and immediately fired a shot to signal, "Everyone evacuate!" He turned around, only to find Blaise rushing alone into the fire.
That's a place that's going to explode!
“Blaze! Are you crazy? Come back!” Hersey shouted.
All that responded to him was a retreating figure, undeterred and unyielding.
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