Chapter 73: The Shadowy Artilleryman in Hiding (Part Two)

“Boom!”

The explosion thundered across the ground, shaking the earth beneath. A shockwave, like a super hurricane, roared upward, carrying flames and soil with it, raining debris and stones over a radius of more than ten meters. Even the armored personnel carrier, weighing over ten tons, rocked violently from the blast.

Through the thick clouds of dust and gunpowder, it was plain to see that less than three meters to the right of the armored vehicle, a crater nearly half a meter deep and more than two meters wide had appeared.

Such a powerful explosion—fortunately, it hadn't struck the carrier directly. Otherwise... the hostages inside would either have died or been left utterly disoriented. If Xing Xiaolong had been a moment slower in his reaction, he and the Tiger, who was standing outside the passenger seat dragging someone, would surely have been killed on the spot.

Luckily, Xing Xiaolong had combat assistance mode and quick reflexes, and managed to escape disaster.

“I owe you my life,” the Tiger said, crawling up from behind the vehicle, his ears ringing and his chest aching as if struck by a hammer. He was still shaken, but was earnest in thanking Xing Xiaolong.

But Xing Xiaolong barely heard him, his mind wholly occupied and his ears filled with the roar and static from the explosion. He couldn’t hear anything the Tiger said.

“Damn it, Su the Rich Lady, you’d better be alright,” Xing Xiaolong muttered, worried that the armored vehicle might have been hit by a shell. He had no time to consider who was attacking them; the only thing on his mind was the safety of Su Dayu inside the vehicle.

He unfastened his backpack and tactical bag, shaking off the dizziness from the blast. His balance was off, and he staggered as he walked, holding onto the armored vehicle and making his way around to the passenger side, slipping inside.

The vehicle had fallen from a five-meter-high slope earlier; the occupants were surely injured in some way. Xing Xiaolong was already anxious—if the carrier took another hit, Su the Rich Lady, without a helmet or armor, could easily be gravely injured or killed in the collision.

He’d fought so hard to get to this point, and the thought of losing it all now made him burn with urgency.

The Tiger saw Xing Xiaolong enter to rescue someone. He shook his head, still dizzy, and brushed off the thick mud and weeds from the explosion. He pressed the radio earpiece and roared in anger, “What the hell happened? Can someone tell me what’s going on? Can’t you even hold back a bunch of rabble? I need answers!”

The Tiger was truly furious. The elite PMC—Baldhead, Black Fox, and the others—couldn’t suppress the rebels and government troops, fine. But these amateurs, with barely any military training, managed to launch a heavy fire surprise attack on him without any warning. It was an unforgivable mistake!

He thought it was the others' error, but inside, Black Fox and the other PMCs were struggling with their own troubles.

The original plan had the eastern side of the village under government control. Since the army was also fighting the rebels, only a few government soldiers would come to support once the hostages were taken. The rebels might show up, but they wouldn’t shift much firepower.

But no one expected the government to send a third of their forces—nearly thirty soldiers—to reinforce, and the rebels brought over a dozen as well.

Even though the government troops and rebels continued fighting each other, the intensity was low; they mostly kept each other occupied. The main target was still the PMCs—Black Fox and his team. Faced with nearly fifty armed opponents, even with Baldhead’s deadly accurate sniping and the flawless teamwork of Black Fox’s four, the pressure was immense.

Only a wild barrage of fire kept the situation under control.

At this rate of ammo and grenade consumption, they’d be out of supplies in less than three minutes. If the Tiger hadn’t been hit by shellfire, Black Fox would have called for help in another minute.

After a brief, urgent exchange, the Tiger realized Black Fox’s situation and knew he had wrongly blamed them.

But the situation was dire. If they didn’t find the hidden artilleryman, they’d face mortal danger at any moment. One shell or missile, whether you hid behind a wall or inside a building—the outcome was the same.

Boom!

Everyone wiped out.

“Baldhead, I’m going in to get the rescue target. The artilleryman will likely strike again. I don’t care how you do it—you must find and eliminate them, or none of us will leave here alive.”

Having given his orders, the Tiger didn’t bother seeking shelter from the bombardment. He went straight to the passenger door and called inside, “How’s it going in there? Have you found our rescue target? What’s their condition?”

“I don’t know about the others yet—I haven’t checked. Come, give me a hand and help me carry her out. This is Su Dayu,” Xing Xiaolong replied.

The overturned armored vehicle was hard to move in. Xing Xiaolong carried the unconscious young woman, whose forehead had a gash hastily bandaged, her face masked by blood but her features still strikingly beautiful, fitting the classic ideal of feminine grace. He handed her to the Tiger at the door.

Truth be told, Xing Xiaolong always thought Su Dayu looked quite a bit like Liu Yifei.

The Tiger, unable to understand Xing Xiaolong’s Chinese, pulled two photos from his tactical vest and compared them to Su Dayu, confirming her identity. As he took her, he handed over the other photo, saying, “Artelisia Lynn Largas, a Caucasian woman. Here’s her picture—bring her out and we’ll withdraw immediately.”

Hearing that the Tiger intended to rescue only two people, leaving the rest behind, Xing Xiaolong protested at once. He pulled out his phone to translate.

“No. The rebels have already arrived—the government might not win. I can ignore those who are already dead, but anyone still alive, I must take with me. If we hadn’t intercepted the convoy, they might not have died. This is our responsibility—I won’t leave them behind.”

“No. More hostages means more risk. We can’t take them all,” the Tiger insisted.

“We can!” Xing Xiaolong cut him off, firm in his principles. “I don’t want to make things difficult for you. There are three pickup trucks at the village entrance. Take the hostages and go, leave one for me—I’ll cover the retreat.”

“You—” The Tiger saw Xing Xiaolong’s resolve, hesitated for two seconds, then chose to compromise. “Fine, you said it—you’ll cover the retreat.”

“Yes, I’ll cover the retreat.”

Xing Xiaolong wasn’t trying to play the hero; he simply refused to do harm. He stood by his conditions and gained the Tiger’s reluctant agreement. He nodded firmly, promising not to go back on his word, and returned into the vehicle.

The Tiger looked at Xing Xiaolong’s back with a complicated expression, his opinion of him shifting once again.

As the Tiger placed the unconscious Su the Rich Lady in the safe zone beside the armored vehicle, preparing to return for the others, Baldhead’s urgent voice came over the radio.

“Captain, I’ve found the two artillerymen and interrupted their firing once, but now they’re hiding in a reinforced concrete house. I can’t shoot them anymore—my rifle won’t penetrate the walls.”