Chapter Two: Fury

In recent years, the Republic's grip and influence over several small neighboring countries in the south have steadily intensified. The clampdown on border drug trafficking gangs has grown fiercer, with special operations forces even dispatched deep into neighboring territory to strike violently at drug cultivation and production bases. The main southern drug transport route has been all but severed, leaving only a few scattered, fearful remnants who now live lives more miserable than rats, unable to stir up any real trouble.

Yet where there is demand, there will always be supply—an unyielding truth in any era, in any nation. The immense demand for narcotics generated by the Republic’s vast population has made every drug trafficker restless. After many twists and turns, domestic underground factions finally established contact with the dark forces of the Suss Federation.

With the powerful northern neighbor, the Suss Federation, rising under the strong leadership of their president, Primelyudev, its already formidable criminal underworld has expanded further. Gangs organized by crime syndicates, newly-minted tycoons, and even secret operatives have swept across the Western world in recent years, troubling governments everywhere.

The drug trade, their greatest source of profit and funding, is of course highly prized by these gangs. However, due to the Republic’s relentless crackdown on criminal elements and drugs, and the long-standing southern trafficking route, they had never managed to penetrate this lucrative market. So, when the Republic’s underground powers came knocking, they seized the opportunity without hesitation. Thus, under the coordination of these gangs, large quantities of synthetic drugs began streaming across the mountainous and riverine border from the north, flooding into the Republic.

Naturally, this situation drew the Republic’s attention. In the last two or three years, anti-narcotic forces have been greatly reinforced in the borderlands, and frontier regiments have intensified their crackdown on cross-border trafficking. Yet faced with astronomical profits, Suss gangs paid exorbitant sums to hire wave after wave of armed men—most of them retired special forces from the Suss Federation, alongside some from the Minia Federation and the Loeu Alliance.

For the sake of this enormous drug market and lavish commissions, these elite soldiers, once adversaries or uneasy rivals who had clashed countless times both openly and in the shadows, astonishingly set aside their differences and united to form one elite squad after another. Their weaponry and combat skills rival any world-renowned special forces unit—indeed, in their eyes, most members of those units are mere greenhorns who’ve never seen real battle.

The soldiers were now about to face these well-equipped, battle-hardened foreign traffickers. Crucially, this was no training exercise with blanks or dummy rounds—the enemy carried live ammunition, ready to kill in an instant.

Though they had endured rigorous training, who among them dared to guarantee victory against such formidable foes?

“Beep beep beep—” The battlefield communications system on Zhang He’s chest crackled. He glanced down at the screen, patted the pilot’s shoulder, signaled with his hand, then turned to address the soldiers: “Change of plan! Check your gear! Prepare for a rope descent!”

The soldiers stood up and gathered near the hatch. Zhang He clapped each on the shoulder, shouting, “From this moment, you’ll step onto the battlefield for the first time, embarking on the path to becoming qualified special forces, true warriors, real men! I order you: be bold, be careful, obey commands, and unleash the results of your hard training—annihilate the enemy! Tell me, are you confident?”

“Yes!” The soldiers, fired up by Zhang He’s words, roared their response.

“Good! Prepare to descend! Let’s head out and kick the enemy’s ass!”

“Kill!” the soldiers cried in unison.

The Z-15 helicopter circled over their heads, waggled its tail, and flew off.

Zhang He made several hand signals, and the soldiers, already instinctively forming a defensive ring, quickly regrouped.

“Intelligence from ahead,” Zhang He’s expression had shed all traces of slyness, menace, gloom, or wildness—only a calm, watery serenity remained. “The enemy squad numbers fifteen. They’re equipped with ten Minia Federation Type-16 assault rifles fitted with grenade launchers, two general-purpose machine guns, one Model 25 sniper rifle, fifteen Loeu Federation P7 submachine guns, two individual rocket launchers, one mortar, plus other personal weapons and communications gear. Their combat capability is formidable!”

The soldiers, now composed, listened to the details of the enemy’s advanced equipment without surprise, contempt, or fear. Their eyes quietly fixed on Zhang He, awaiting his next instructions.

Zhang He nodded slightly, satisfied with their composure, produced a map, glanced around at the soldiers, and tapped a spot: “Here—ten kilometers ahead, these criminals are using the lowland forest to confront our border regiment. So far, our regiment has lost eleven men, with nine gravely wounded and seventeen lightly injured.”

“Damn!” Lei Dong cursed bitterly. Zhang He looked at Lei Dong, then at the soldiers, whose faces burned with anger at the heavy losses suffered by their comrades, yet his own expression remained calm, as if recounting events unrelated to himself. “Despite such heavy casualties, our border regiment has succeeded in pinning the enemy in a patch of forest near Height 587, killing one and wounding another—the wounded was subsequently executed by the enemy.”

The soldiers exchanged glances: these mercenaries were ruthless, showing no mercy to foes or comrades alike.

Zhang He, aware of their thoughts, waved his hand lightly: “For these mercenaries, driven purely by profit and willing to deal even in drugs, notions like camaraderie and brotherhood are meaningless. They might cooperate well when things go smoothly, but under adversity, cracks will inevitably form. That’s our opportunity—apply enough pressure, and their morale will collapse! Understood?”

“Yes!” the soldiers answered in unison.

Zhang He nodded, frowning: “The problem now is that the enemy has two anti-narcotics policemen as hostages. Our border regiment, constrained by their safety, cannot deploy heavy firepower, and the standoff continues. The enemy demands two off-road vehicles within an hour to facilitate their escape; otherwise, the hostages will be executed. If they detect reinforcements, they’ll also kill the hostages.”

His words tightened the soldiers’ hearts. Zhang He glanced at the map and declared, “Our task now is to reach Height 587 within forty-five minutes, covertly engage, rescue the hostages, and annihilate the enemy. Do you have confidence?”

“Yes!” The soldiers’ hearts pounded wildly as they shouted their affirmation.

“Good! My call sign is A1, Han Changfeng is A2, Liang Huijun is A3, Wang Xuesong is A4. Other members, follow your training squad numbers and maintain clear communications. A2 takes point, No. 56 and I bring up the rear, five-meter intervals, single file—move out!”

From the map, the soldiers already knew that after an hour’s flight, they had arrived at Heishui City, bordering the Suss Federation.

Most of this city’s jurisdiction lies within the Changxin Ridge mountains, with the Heishui River flowing along its edge—on the other side lies the Suss Federation, the largest territory and most powerful military on the planet.

Heishui City was once covered with forests, boasting one of the Republic’s three great logging areas. In recent years, like many others, it has sacrificed its forests for so-called modern living and higher economic gains. Rampant logging has led to rows of modern wood-processing factories; high-end wooden products crafted with advanced technology pour ceaselessly into the Republic, becoming favorites among affluent households. The cost of this progress is that almost all of the original or secondary forest has vanished.

The soldiers now raced through one of the few remaining primordial forests. Seen from above, nearly a hundred square kilometers of towering temperate conifers, over forty meters high and a meter thick, stretch as far as the eye can see. In reality, the trees are spaced far enough apart for the soldiers to advance rapidly.

It was the middle of the night. Cold moonlight filtered through the branches, casting dappled shadows and lending the woods an air of loneliness and desolation.

In this chilly, solitary night, the soldiers ran swiftly. The effects of their long, brutal physical and tactical training were evident: their speed was like the wind, yet their footsteps made less noise than the rabbits in the forest. After a few minutes, as their muscles and joints warmed up, their bodies began to heat, and their blood simmered, then boiled—for just ahead lay enemies who had violated the national border, poisoned compatriots with wicked drugs, and killed comrades with evil bullets, waiting to be destroyed! Brave policemen and guards, held hostage and in mortal peril, awaited rescue!

The soldiers poured every ounce of strength into running through tall trees and thick grass. The closer they drew to their objective, the grimmer their faces became: trampled, chaotic undergrowth, and patches of darkened blood revealed that battle and slaughter had raged here. Scattered, still-shiny spent casings, some faintly scented with gunpowder, showed that the mercenaries, desperate as they were, hadn’t wasted ammunition but carried out precise, targeted killings—these damned mercenaries were truly veterans of jungle warfare!