Chapter 1843 - 1390: The Missing Major General Duke

"Careful!"

Blake sensed something was wrong; he instinctively wanted to turn and shoot, but it was too late.

"Pop pop pop pop!"

Four gunshots nearly sounded like one.

The sound was processed by the SOCOM silencer, resembling rapid clapping in the narrow space.

Derek was the first to fall.

The bullet hit his carotid artery from the side, the bulletproof vest's neck protection couldn't completely block it.

His eyes widened, hands uselessly covering the bleeding wound, falling with a dull thud.

Quinn was the second to be shot.

He tried to turn and retaliate, but the bullet precisely hit the gap between the helmet and the bulletproof vest—above the collarbone, side of the spine.

He collapsed like a puppet with strings cut.

"Enemy attack!"

Victor roared, swiveling the machine gun's muzzle.

But the attackers were prepared.

Two flashbangs thrown from the shadow at the door exploded simultaneously, followed by a deafening noise.

Not ordinary shock bombs, but a shock bomb combined with a blast concussion bomb.

Blake felt the world turn blindingly white and earsplittingly loud.

He completely lost his balance, stumbled into a wall, night vision overloaded and went black.

In the blurry vision, he saw Victor trying to fire, but the machine gun's muzzle was precisely shot the hands that held it.

Victor screamed, letting go of the machine gun, then two quick shots hit his head, blowing it open like a smashed watermelon.

The entire process took no more than four seconds.

Four seconds.

As Blake's vision began to recover, he saw four more people in the room.

All wore Multicam combat uniforms, faces painted with camouflage, weapons were modified HK416s, equipped with silencers and PEQ-15 laser designators.

Leading them was a face from Asia, eyes as calm as ice.

Song Heping!

"Drop your weapon, Blake."

Song Heping said, gun muzzle steadily pointed at his head.

"The game is over."

Blake's finger was still on the trigger.

Three meters away, separated by fallen comrades.

He had a chance to shoot, but the three behind Song Heping had their gun muzzles locked on his head, chest, abdomen.

Joseph rushed forward, pressing the safety device in the dazed Misu's hands.

In the chaos earlier, he had been directly stunned, not activating it.

Soon, he was dragged out and thrown before Song Heping.

"You..."

Misu sat on the ground for a while before recovering.

Looking at the newly appeared armed men, his voice trembled more.

"Who are you?"

Song Heping did not turn his head, still staring at Blake: "The ones coming to save you. Or should I say, the ones to make a deal with you?"

"Deal?"

"The evidence in your hand, for your life."

Song Heping finally turned his head to glance at Misu.

"I know what happened in Harab Town, know what the 'Seeder' plan used. Give me the evidence, I'll give you a new identity, a new life, and arrange your departure."

Misu's eyes darted wildly between Blake and Song Heping.

His face turned pale.

"How do I... How do I trust you?"

"You are not stupid." Song Heping said indifferently: "You only need to know, the CIA team sent—"

He pointed the gun muzzle at Blake.

"They're here to silence you. And I could shoot you right now and take the backpack, but I haven't. That's my sincerity."

He looked back at Blake: "I'll give you three seconds. Drop the gun, or die."

Blake's mind raced.

His team was wiped out, and he himself was under four gun muzzles.

More importantly, he recognized Song Heping.

Musician Defense.

The man once ranked third for bounty on the KB leader list.

"You are Song Heping." He said: "I lose without grievance."

"An honor." Song Heping said without expression: "Three seconds."

"Wait!"

Blake slowly lowered the gun muzzle but didn't completely drop it.

"We can talk. My superior can also offer a bid; just talk. Eight figures. Let me go, I can—"

"Two seconds."

Blake gritted his teeth.

He knew Song Heping wouldn't accept any condition.

Such a person only trusts his gun and teammates.

At the moment Song Heping was about to count to "one," Blake made a last gamble.

He suddenly lunged at Joseph, not attacking, but trying to snatch the detonator.

But Song Heping was quicker.

In the same millisecond as Blake lunged, Song Heping moved too.

Ch-ch-ch—

A short burst.

"Ah—"

Blake fell to the ground.

The process happened so quickly that the others hardly had time to react before it was over.

Blake tried to roll and get up, but a cold gun muzzle was already pressed to the back of his head.

"Now." Song Heping's voice came from above: "Do you have any last words?"

Blake lay on the ground, cheek pressed to cold concrete.

He smelled the scent of blood, gunpowder, and the sourness of his sweat.

"Tell me." He asked hoarsely: "How did you know we would come? How did you know the operation time?"

Song Heping said: "You don't need to know."

Blake was stunned.

He knew resistance was pointless, so he raised his hands.

"I lost."

Admitting defeat.

It's also the courage of a man.

Joseph bent down, skillfully quickly zip-tying Blake's hands behind his back.

"Take him to the temporary camp." Song Heping said to the team: "The others clean the scene."

Two team members stepped forward to lift Blake.

His right leg was shot through, each step was agonizing.

Before being dragged out of the room, he took one last look inside: Derek and Quinn lying in a pool of blood, eyes still open; Misu collapsed beside the cabinet, being checked by another team member; Song Heping crouched on the ground, opening a canvas backpack.

Inside the backpack were several encrypted hard drives, a roll of microfilm, a stack of yellowed photos, and a small glass bottle sealed with wax, containing a sample of dark red soil.