Chapter 263
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Chapter 263: The Mustang Jumps the Gorge
“Quickly, quickly, keep up! Help those two, Hafar, you really need to lose some weight!”
A few figures moved stealthily through the camp, crouching low to avoid the gaze of the armed militants. Thank God, these fools were only staring at the sky, totally unaware that someone had rescued the two captives locked in their camp.
Those who served as reconnaissance personnel had exceptional physical fitness, reaction abilities, and intelligence. They adapted quickly and, while everyone was focused on the chaos in the sky, a group of mercenaries quietly infiltrated the makeshift camp.
This place had only been established for a short time; there weren’t even any fences. There was no wood nearby to use, and it would take a long time to stack anything with just stones.
With sentries standing every three steps and every five steps, it was easy for someone to slip through.
Omar, sent by Abik to execute the plan to undermine their enemies, had already set up the bombs and fuel charges. The mechanical timer triggering the explosions was often used in car bombs and parcel bombs. The Afghan people had honed a mature, low-cost, high-power weapons technology during the war, often called “terrorists” by America and other countries. The methods they employed in their attacks had much in common with the ones Omar used now.
“Ugh, take it easy, it hurts so much! My leg is broken; I can’t touch the ground!”
“I know, I know, you pig! You need to lose weight! How much do you weigh? You’re so heavy!”
“Stop talking. This is called luck, understand? You’re lucky you don’t have to worry about my weight.”
Hafar, once wearing a turban, now had messy hair, his face was covered in blood, and his clothes were tattered. One leg was temporarily strapped with a wooden stick as a splint, and he was moving forward, hopping and grimacing in pain as his companions helped him.
“Larry! Larry!” Hafar shouted toward his reconnaissance teammate.
“Uh…” Larry lay on the back of another mercenary coming to rescue him. His panda eyes were so swollen he couldn’t open them, and he responded in a hoarse voice, hardly able to move. He had clearly suffered much more than Hafar.
“Poor Larry, if we can make it back alive, we have to bring his woman here to take care of him. Sigh, where is my woman?”
While being assisted, Hafar continued to banter, but suddenly spotted a group rushing toward them. He nearly shoved the person next to him aside to grab his gun, but upon closer inspection, he realized it was their leader, Omar. He immediately calmed down and awkwardly smiled, “Omar! I’m so glad to see you! I thought I’d never see you again!” Hafar cried, tears streaming down his face like a poor child finding a long-lost family member.
“Good job! When we get back, I’ll tell Chief Abik about your achievements.” Omar, already familiar with Hafar’s antics, completely ignored his theatrical performance and offered some routine words of comfort to his rescued comrades.
It was unnecessary to guess; it was clear that this guy wouldn’t have withstood the torture and likely spilled secrets, or else he would still be acting dazed like Larry.
That’s how mercenaries were; they faced death in battle, and if captured, they’d get shot without anyone to blame. If abducted, they could be tortured; if they spilled information later, they wouldn’t receive blame from their comrades—unless explicitly warned to keep secrets. To keep that life, they could reveal some information.
“Listen up, we’ll detonate soon! Everyone, seize the chance to rush out! Got it?” Omar instructed his returning men from various bomb placements. Today’s operation went smoothly, thanks to Mr. Knight, whose aircraft drew most people’s attention, allowing Omar’s team to sneak in and rapidly set up the timed bombs.
Although it was a shame to blow up the supplies piled high, to ensure the safety of the men, women, and children in Gem Valley, they had no choice but to grit their teeth and give it up. Until it was in their hands, it could only become a hazard.
While moving through the camp wasn’t entirely smooth sailing, they were the best-equipped veterans among the mercenaries; they not only had silenced weapons but also were skilled knife throwers. They quickly eliminated their enemies before they could react.
Once Omar and his men ducked into a tent, a tremendous explosion suddenly erupted in the camp. The successive booms created shockwaves that swept away many tents. Even the tent they were in, although farther away, still shook violently, with the supports creaking and several unknown objects tearing through the tent roof and falling inside—fortunately, no one was hurt.
“Awesome!”
“Great job!”
The mercenaries in the tent exchanged triumphant glances, their fists raised with joy.
“Let’s go! Charge out!”
Omar shouted, pumping his fist in the air as he led the way out with his AK-47.
Indeed, the supply area exploded, igniting a massive fire and plunging the camp into chaos. The moment Omar and his brethren exited the tent, they were spotted, and gunfire erupted. Bullets tore through the air and struck bodies, creating gaping holes.
In the melee, several of Omar’s men fell, but more of the enemy crumpled under fire. They desperately dragged the wounded toward the camp’s edge, while the mercenary gunners outside began pulling triggers, providing a rain of bullets to cover Omar’s group.
“Mr. Knight! Mr. Knight! Do you see us? We’re on the west side; please cover us!”
Omar knelt on the ground, holding his gun with one hand. He fired his AK-47 into the fray, yelling into his walkie-talkie. The AK-47 jumped violently, producing a series of rapid shots, reminiscent of the Chinese soldiers in the War of Resistance carefully stabilizing their rifles.
“Received!”
As Lin Mo replied, Omar saw two streams of fire sweep down from the sky, leaving a death zone around him.
“Nice job!” Omar exclaimed, spirited. “Brothers, let’s move!”
With aerial support, he felt the same sense of satisfaction the American forces experienced when they called in air support during their operations in Afghanistan.
“Damn it, bastards! I’ll kill you!”
Lawrence, seething with rage, was no longer just going mad; he shook his fists at the sky.
The combined forces of the Taliban, Jamaat al-Tableeg, Holy War Army, and the World Uyghur Congress being thrown into disarray by an old fighter jet was a huge embarrassment. It was humiliating to see someone bomb the supply cache in the confusion.
Even a fool could understand that if they didn’t break through the Gem Valley entrance within a few days, the coalition soldiers would be left to gnaw on stones, slowly starving to death in this desolate land.
The feeling of losing control was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Who were these opponents?
Lawrence made a snap decision to retreat; this was a big quagmire with too many unforeseen events. Without proper preparations, they could get hit by unexpected strategies and punches like this, leaving them utterly disoriented.
The blow to morale was severe.
The leaders no longer dared to stay and watch the show. They spread out, shouting to regroup their troops and stabilize the situation while sending soldiers to chase the intruders and firing into the sky with increasing fervor.
The meticulously planned operation was repeatedly disrupted, and Lawrence’s eyes turned bloodshot as he cursed viciously at the sky. His gaze shifted toward his helicopter, a black armed helicopter. Though covered with camouflage, he felt it was no longer safe here.
Just as he prepared to take action, the P-51 "Mustang" finally dropped its most lethal weapon.
A 200-kilogram mixed bomb, filled with C-4, rubber shavings, gasoline, and TNT, landed heavily in the camp from a small black dot. A pale shockwave swept across the entire camp in an instant, and a massive fireball ignited, accompanied by scorching heat and thick smoke, consuming everything in its path, whether human or tent, turning them to ashes.
The large central tent was shredded to pieces, and Lawrence, propelled by the blast towards his helicopter, cried out as he was flung over ten meters away, crashing into the helicopter and losing consciousness.
Flying debris, steel pipes, and furniture shards damaged the armed helicopter, which was already fragile. Even a small impact could deform the aircraft, and without professional mechanics to repair it, it likely wouldn’t be able to fly again.
“Direct hit!”
Lin Mo’s final bomb landed a heavy blow on the enemy camp, and chaos ensued.
Once the Light Mirror Technique confirmed that Omar and the others had safely departed, Lin Mo maneuvered the P-51 “Mustang,” banking the wings as he began his descent. It was a thrilling display of domination over his opponents.
If it hadn’t been for the combination of himself and Gold Coin, and had someone else been piloting this old “Mustang,” they would have likely absorbed thousands of bullets and faced numerous downings. Thanks to Gold Coin, Lin Mo could make this fighter feel like ten aircraft in action.
“Great job, Mr. Knight! I’ve got good news for you. The enemies at the entrance have retreated; we’ve held our ground!”
The voice of mercenary leader Abik crackled through the radio, filled with excitement, joined by cheers from those nearby.
The “Mustang” flew low over the entrance, where many strong young Pashtun men waved their arms and weapons at Lin Mo.
Had they not had self-restraint, they might have fired into the sky to express their joy.
