Chapter 251
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Chapter 251: Sleepless Night
“Maybe… it’s possible… we won’t come back.” The dark blue-hatted leader lowered his head, not daring to meet the other man’s gaze. Deep down, he knew the truth.
That dark-haired, yellow-skinned East Asian kid hadn’t responded, and not a single messenger had returned. It was safe to say he was likely gone.
There were multiple eyes in Gem Valley, but as it stood, not a whisper had slipped through. The enemy clearly had defenses, and those scouts were likely in grave danger.
After all, there were about a thousand people, most of whom were elderly, women, and children. While they could win a fight, the enemy had nearly a gun for every soldier, and the fear was that his faction would suffer great losses, leading to its absorption by other groups. That would be counterproductive.
Perhaps seeing the unease in the dark blue-hatted leader’s heart, the middle-aged white man appeared unfazed and remarked, “That’s also the will of God!”
Mentioning God in front of Muslims might seem disrespectful, but the dark blue-hatted leader didn’t dare to interject. The other’s identity was serious; although the so-called "Red Scorpion" was a local tyrant, he had no stake in Afghanistan. However, his other powerful connections were daunting.
Legend had it that this man had certain ties to the American government and had been active in the Middle East. Whether true or not, one thing was certain: anyone he wanted dead wouldn’t last long.
Though the middle-aged white man spoke lightly, the crystal wine glass in his hand made cracking sounds, revealing cracks that were starkly mismatched against the transparent glass, sending shivers down the dark blue-hatted leader’s spine.
“Notify the lower ranks to send one hundred men to probe tonight,” he said, glancing at the trembling dark blue-hatted leader. With a gentle flick of his wrist, shards of glass mixed with red wine splashed onto the ground, filling the air with a fragrant scent, causing greedy swallowing sounds from those nearby.
Walking on the edge of death, the armed militants were drawn to the allure of women and wine. Drugs were an unattainable luxury. Some small tribes or organizations might secretly grow poppies for opium, but that was merely a lifeline for arms purchases and essentials. Only influential leaders with money could hoard luxury items. In common situations, cigarettes and wine could serve as hard currency.
“Remember to notify others to prepare for tomorrow’s attack. I need this place captured within three days; otherwise, you know the consequences.” The middle-aged white man switched to a new glass, refilling it with red wine and sipping it slowly, while casually pulling out a cigarette box. “Here, the last thing we lack is manpower.” He tossed a brownish cigar towards the dark blue-hatted leader.
“Yes, yes! I’ll arrange it right away.” The dark blue-hatted leader, surprised by the attention, quickly caught the cigar and bowed.
“Come back!” The middle-aged white man suddenly called back the departing dark blue-hatted leader. After snapping his fingers, he lit a cigar with his lighter and said, “Remember, whether it’s tonight’s battle or tomorrow’s, be cautious; there’s a very powerful character inside.”
“Powerful character? How powerful? One shot, and he’ll either be dead or injured, heh heh.” The dark blue-hatted leader laughed confidently. They had numbers on their side, why fear one person?
No matter how strong he was, with machine guns, rifles, rockets, and grenades, how could he withstand it?
“Hmph! It’s not that simple. This guy is formidable, armored in silver, wielding a sword and shield, escorting these migration groups safely here. A big reason for this is him, and according to reports, at least seven hundred people have met their demise at his hands.”
The middle-aged white man glanced disdainfully at the shortsighted leader, watched as his face gradually changed color, and continued, “Indeed, this guy has earned the nickname ‘Silver Devil’! I wonder if you have heard of him.”
“Hiss… that guy!” The dark blue-hatted leader gasped in shock. He had just heard of this “Silver Devil” recently; he was a killer, with many small forces obliterated by this assassin, not a single survivor escaping his wrath.
To defeat an entire armed force using only cold weapons was nearly legendary—was he perhaps a reincarnation of some heroic spirit?
While he pondered, the middle-aged white man flicked the ash from his cigar, appearing thoughtful as he looked in a certain direction, adding meaningfully, “Don’t underestimate your opponent! Just relying on guns won’t hurt that guy. There are significant bounties on him. If you spot such a figure, report to me immediately. Special agents will handle it.”
What he prioritized was not to waste these worthless soldiers on that “Silver Devil.” Although that eight million dollars bounty was enticing, he coveted the entire picturesque valley, with its unique microclimate.
Establishing a base in these deep mountains would provide an exceptionally favorable environment. For government forces and external powers to invade would be difficult due to treacherous routes and supply issues, rendering any attacking troops weary and ineffective in combat.
Unfortunately, intelligence chief Haus had yet to report back, possibly proving the dark blue-hatted leader correct—he and his men might have been wiped out.
As for “those people,” the middle-aged white man looked in a certain direction again; he had just received news that their team had unexpectedly lost two men overnight.
Tonight was bound to be a sleepless night.
After pushing the repaired P-51 Mustang fighter into the hangar, Lin Mo prepared himself completely.
“Sir ‘Knight’!”
Just as he secured his shield and strapped on his long sword, Lin Mo turned around and smiled lightly. “Sally! What brings you here?”
Last night’s events had rendered the relationship between Lin Mo and this Pashtun girl increasingly delicate, causing him much distress.
She was no modern intellectual but a traditional Afghan woman, living in an old-fashioned and impoverished area, comparable in culture to ancient China.
“I came to see you. Are you going to battle tonight?” Sally, without her veil, revealed a beautiful face full of concern.
The Pashtun young men around were taken aback. They couldn’t help but feel their breaths catch, their faces turning red.
The tradition of Afghan marriages had injured not just women but men as well. Apart from their mothers or direct female relatives, men could only see the old men in beards or women shrouded in robes, only their hands visible.
Aside from most women being unaware of what their future husbands looked like before marriage, most men also bore ignorance about their future wives’ appearances, whether they were beautiful or ugly, fat or thin—everything was unknown.
But standing here was a stunning beauty without a veil. The pure-hearted young men felt their hearts racing and hormones surging. However, this exquisite flower already belonged to someone else, leaving them only with thoughts.
Thinking of the fearsome reputation of the “Silver Devil,” even a three-year-old child would be scared into silence; this guy was brutal beyond measure. The people who cleaned up the corpses last night all felt nauseated.
“Hmm, I’ll join the battle too. The more people we have, the stronger we are. We can wear down the enemy’s forces tonight and catch them off guard with the fighter planes tomorrow.”
Having been influenced by professional military personnel in the “Night” Special Forces, Lin Mo knew the enemy would inevitably launch a surprise night attack.
The night would be challenging for both sides; the initial forces wouldn’t be large, and it was likely just a probe. If the enemy gained an upper hand, this nighttime probing could morph into an all-out confrontation; if defeated, the enemy commanders would calm down and rethink their strategy.
In that case, Lin Mo’s fighter jet would strike the enemy’s gathering points and supply centers while they were still uncertain, delivering a heavy blow.
The P-51 Mustang was a secret weapon of Gem Valley, a super trump card. To maximize its effectiveness, they needed to attack before the enemy could react, catching them completely off guard.
“Please be careful!” Unknowingly stepping into a special role, Sally approached and thoughtfully adjusted Lin Mo’s armor.
Outside the cave, the Pashtun young men watched with wide eyes.
Without even mentioning envy and jealousy, many of these young men were from the same village as Sally, lamenting inwardly as a beautiful Afghan tulip was about to be claimed by an outsider.
“May Allah punish this infidel.”
“Hmm!”
In response to Sally’s meticulousness, Lin Mo acknowledged with a vague nod.
In the Pashtun migrant camp, bright bonfires blazed. This battle was unavoidable; the men, women, and children in the valley were all prepared for a do-or-die fight.
If they won, they could officially claim this valley as their own and live in peace. If they lost, there would be no survivors; their future would be lost.
Mercenary leader Abik surveyed the fully armed and ready young fighters before him. Examining their spirited and determined faces, his previously uneasy heart steadied slightly.
Though they were originally a rabble, after a day of intense training, they had managed to learn some coordinated tactics, rather than just firing randomly. However, facing hundreds of enemies, their numbers were still insufficient.
