Chapter 60: There's Actually a Drone That Flies with Wings?

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Before this, Xing Xiaolong had only a vague idea of how superhuman the physical fitness of a retired special forces soldier could be after enduring all sorts of grueling training. But after that three-kilometer run, he finally understood.

With a tactical pack strapped alongside a marching backpack, the full combat gear weighed at least sixty or seventy pounds. There was no trail, either—just a dense forest that forced them to hack their way forward with heavy Bowie knives. Yet they completed the three-kilometer forced march in less than fifteen minutes.

Xing Xiaolong’s endurance was top-tier even among regular army units, but that overload forced march nearly did him in. By the time he reached the designated spot, he was gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, steam rising from his collar.

Compared to these PMCs, who didn’t even seem winded and could probably run another ten kilometers fully armed without much trouble, he was clearly in a different league. Their stamina was simply on another level.

This was the most direct and vivid difference between elite special forces and ordinary soldiers.

“With stamina like that, you can do whatever you want—carrying thirty or forty kilograms and still striding like the wind. How enviable. If only I’d had a chance at that kind of special training,” Xing Xiaolong thought as he dragged his gaze away from these monsters. Not caring if the PMCs looked down on him, he unstrapped his packs, dropped to the ground, and gulped down water from his canteen.

He was utterly exhausted.

In truth, Xing Xiaolong was worrying too much. Once Tiger and the other PMCs reached the designated location, they had no time to care about this “dead weight” trailing behind. They immediately set about their tasks.

The sniper and spotter, Baldy and Trist, arrived in the woods less than a hundred meters from the village. They split from the group and headed for the hills surrounding the village, looking for advantageous observation positions to establish a field of view for the upcoming operation.

One white PMC, carrying a suppressed HK416, took on the role of forward scout, following closely behind Baldy and Trist. He slipped alone into the shrubbery near the village to set up a defensive perimeter.

The forward scout was akin to an ancient “reconnaissance cavalryman.” Unlike the sniper team, whose job was to set up long-distance observation, the scout’s task before any action began was to establish a security line around the team. Once the operation commenced, he’d be the vanguard leading the way.

It was a position that demanded both brains and courage.

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With the forward scout securing the perimeter, the PMC from the SBS boat team opened his pack and took out a small, biomimetic reconnaissance drone. Evidently, this PMC was not just a master at special vehicle operations but also skilled at piloting drones.

After donning a pair of VR-like goggles, he controlled the tiny drone—about half the size of a palm, with a pair of artificial membrane wings. Flapping its wings noiselessly, the drone flew straight toward the Kaso tribal village.

Unlike the ubiquitous and cheap rotor drones, this expensive biomimetic model had the advantage of near-silent operation and was extremely difficult to detect. Even if someone spotted it from five or six meters away, they’d just take it for a bird, never imagining it was a drone.

“What futuristic gear—one piece after another, it’s dazzling. I’ve really broadened my horizons this time. Is this the world of PMCs?” Xing Xiaolong marveled inwardly, growing even more fascinated by this profession.

But were PMCs really so well-funded? The answer might surprise Xing Xiaolong.

…

The biomimetic drone, equipped with a high-definition camera, returned its first batch of crucial intel in less than five minutes. Black Fox, who had been waiting nearby, watched the video feed on a military-grade tablet.

Without the slightest hint of embarrassment, she immediately stripped off her bulletproof vest and camouflage uniform, leaving only her custom-fitted compression undergarment.

It resembled a swimsuit and a gym outfit at the same time. Though it covered her completely, the tight fit accentuated every curve of Black Fox’s explosive figure.

Tiger and the communications PMC stared, eyes glazed.

Even Xing Xiaolong, ever wary of Black Fox, couldn’t help but swallow hard at the sight, his throat dry.

No wonder they say Western women have enviable figures, he thought. Two words: simply perfect.

While the men’s hormones surged, Black Fox paid them no mind. She retrieved a sexy short dress from her bag and slipped it on right there, then gave her sinuous waist a deliberate sway for the benefit of the men straining to keep their composure.

When she saw their faces flush red, she finally smiled with satisfaction and strode off in high heels toward the edge of the forest.

“Does this woman get restless if she doesn’t put on a show every minute? We’re at the mission site, and she’s changing into a dress just to flaunt her figure? Isn’t she worried about getting herself killed?” Xing Xiaolong couldn’t help but complain inwardly.

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Xing Xiaolong had no idea what Black Fox was up to, so he could only speculate maliciously in his mind.

Of course, he knew it wasn’t that simple—these people were among the most professional in the world.

And sure enough, less than ten minutes later, Black Fox came striding back into the woods, dragging an unconscious Black man behind her like a discarded sack of potatoes.

He was clad in a cheap black nylon uniform with officer’s insignia on the shoulder and a fairly new AK74 slung around his neck.

From this, it was clear that the man Black Fox had brought back was no ordinary member of the Kaso tribe.

He fit the “prisoner” Tiger needed perfectly.

“Men always think with their lower halves. Just a flick of the finger and they come running like fools. Truly incomprehensible,” Black Fox said as she changed back into her tactical gear, boasting about her allure with a wry metaphor. Then she lifted her booted right foot and stomped down hard.

The heel landed squarely between the man’s legs.

“Ah—!”

The Black man awoke from his stupor with a scream, but with a rag stuffed in his mouth, all he could do was whimper and writhe on the ground, clutching himself and curling up like a shrimp.

Xing Xiaolong winced at the sight of the tactical boot landing squarely on the man’s groin—his own body cringed in sympathy, and he couldn’t help but draw in a sharp breath.

He could almost hear something shattering.

“This woman… truly ruthless.”

With that one action, Black Fox had once again raised her threat level in Xing Xiaolong’s mind. He now considered her someone to be strictly avoided.