Chapter 801 - 741: Land of Turmoil

"Gold mine?"

Jiang Feng's eyes flashed with gold light as he brought over the first aid kit.

"Are you really giving it to me?"

Song Heping sneered, "Do you think a gold mine would be of any use if you have an arterial bleed? You'd be better off burning more paper money for King Yama, it might be more effective."

It's not that Song Heping despised the gold mine.

He just found Hou Xing's behavior ridiculous.

Money can sometimes save your life.

But sometimes, it can't.

If the stray bullet had hit a major artery instead of a regular blood vessel just now, even if Hou Xing gave him a diamond mine, he still wouldn't be able to save him.

Hou Xing had the typical mentality of a nouveau riche.

Money.

Give money!

As long as you give money, anything can be done.

But in a place like Africa, bullets don't believe in cash.

Here, bullets are used to rob cash.

After observing the amount of bleeding carefully, Song Heping breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Mr. Hou, let's make it clear, if I save you this time, the gold mine will be mine."

"Fine… fine… whatever works..."

Hou Xing was now willing to agree to anything.

Money is valuable when you are healthy.

When you are dying, it becomes worthless.

Money is only valuable if it can save your life, otherwise paper money burned during the Qingming Festival would be more useful.

"My gold mine can produce about two kilograms of gold a day..."

Song Heping took out a hemostatic belt from the first aid kit, wrapped it around Hou Xing's thigh, and pulled hard.

"Ah——"

Boss Hou screamed again.

"Stop talking about your gold mine. You're still bleeding a lot. Do you feel a bit cold?"

"A little..."

Hou Xing asked in panic, "Am I going to die?"

Song Heping said, "You need a doctor to sew and treat the wound. If not timely, this hemostatic belt won't hold for long, we need to release it every now and then, otherwise your leg will become necrotic, and then we will have to..."

Song Heping made a chopping gesture.

"Amputate, understand?"

"Brother, Brother He Ping..."

Hou Xing was really scared.

"I have an eighty-year-old mother and a three-year-old child. I can't die..."

Jiang Feng couldn't help but interject, "You're almost fifty, and your child is only three years old? And your wife is young?"

This hit a sore spot.

The atmosphere suddenly became a bit awkward.

Ah Guan explained from the side, "Second marriage… second marriage..."

Song Heping did not want to continue this boring topic and asked the guide next to him, "Is there a hospital nearby?"

"In this godforsaken place, where could there be a hospital?"

The guide spread his hands helplessly, "We are close to the battle line here, the UN does have a hospital a hundred kilometers away, but going there would take too much time..."

"Then we won't go."

He was still on the UN KB organization list, going there would be walking into a trap.

"Is there anywhere else other than the UN?"

"It seems..."

The guide scratched his head, thought for a while.

"Yes!"

His eyes lit up.

"I remember, there is a church nearby, it is said that there is a female doctor there who came with the missionaries, in Koma Village."

"Koma Village? How far?" Song Heping asked.

The black guide thought for a moment, "More than twenty kilometers, not far."

"Then let's go there." Song Heping said decisively to Antonov, "Get him up, we are going to Koma Village."

He then turned to Jiang Feng and said, "Inform Ferrari immediately and tell them to rush to Koma Village to meet us as soon as possible. Our plan to meet in Ethiopia has changed. Also, tell them to bring more weapons and ammunition, it's not safe here."

"Okay."

Jiang Feng immediately walked aside and used a satellite phone to contact Ferrari.

The group's initial plan was to meet in Ethiopia, and then go to Somalia together.

After all, Song Heping didn't have enough people around him now.

All the armed forces of the company had been withdrawn to South America, and some of the Illigo Mercenaries were stationed in Persia.

It could be said that this was the first strategic contraction since the establishment of "Musician" Defense; previously, their business had been expanding every year.

Ever since they clashed with the CIA, the company's business had suffered severely and they had to adopt a defensive stance.

Everyone worked together to lift Hou Xing onto the car, flattening the last row of seats to make a temporary bed for the wailing boss to lie on, and drove towards Koma Village under the guide's direction.

The roads in the warzone could hardly be called roads.

They were merely paths.

Potholes and mud were everywhere, and occasionally corpses could be seen faintly by the roadside.

The Jeep jolted on the pothole-filled gravel road, Song Heping's knuckles whitened as he gripped the window tightly.

Hou Xing was groaning intermittently in the back seat, the smell of blood mixed with the musty stench typical of the rainy season, forming a thick, viscous entity in the car.

"Turn left! Avoid the checkpoint!" The local guide in the passenger seat suddenly growled.

The tires spun sharply and kicked up red earth, Song Heping's face slammed against the window, and in his shaking vision, a scorched mud wall rushed towards them.

It used to be a school; half of the school's nameplate still hung on the faded door frame. Now, the mud classrooms resembled gutted bodies, exposing twisted metal school desks inside.

A faint sobbing came from somewhere, and Song Heping saw half a child's face flash behind a window hole – its left eye was a bloody hollow.

"It seems like there was a fight here recently."

Seeing smoke still rising from the houses by the roadside, Jiang Feng cautiously raised his gun, ready to fire at any moment.

"Do we need to stop and check the situation before going?"

Nura's brow had been furrowed since entering the North and South Sudan warzone, the scenes more brutal than what he had seen in Z East.

At least someone reported it in Z East.

Here, no one cared.

Massacres might happen every day.

Fights broke out every day.

Innocent civilians' lives were like grass.

When they died, they died.

Nobody knew, nobody cared, nobody paid attention.

In a hell-like country, death might not be painful, but a release.

"We can't stop."

The guide immediately stopped him.

"Stopping here would be seeking death!"

His voice trembled a little.

If Song Heping hadn't paid him so much, he wouldn't take this job even if he was beaten to death.

The tires of the Jeep crushed scattered exercise books, a childish handwriting practicing "2+2=4" had blue ink washed out by bullet holes, forming a strange equal sign.

The road ahead was broken into a crater, forcing them to detour into the village.

Empty oil drums clanged in the heat, and Song Heping saw the swollen feet of a pregnant woman – she leaned against the collapsed well, her blue-violet toenails digging deep into the earth.

Her swaddle lay unnaturally still, under the faded headscarf a charred little hand protruded.

Flies danced on the baby's curled eyelashes while the mother's dry breast still pressed stubbornly against the dead infant's lips.

Song Heping could do nothing.

He seemed to be numb to it all.

The real world was always so cruel.

After all these years of living in war zones, he had long understood what happiness meant.

Stability brings happiness.

Suddenly, he thought of his homeland.

That was true heaven.

When the church steeple finally appeared on the horizon, a light rain began to fall from the sky.

Song Heping saw the village.

The church was in the center, constructed with simple timber.

A cross stood on top of the church, clearly visible at a glance.

In the drizzle, it was a complex and bizarre sight to Song Heping – Western colonialism had brought disaster to Africa, and most of the wars on the African Continent today were due to disputes from the colonial division of races for easier administration or casually drawn borders on the map.

All the bloodshed originated from this.

Yet now, under the name of peacekeeping, even the church sent missionaries for humanitarian work.

It was laughable to Song Heping.

They save, and they kill.

The Jeep drove into the village, women and children scattered in panic at the sight of the vehicle.

As the Jeep stopped in front of the church, the door swung open, and a bearded, white-haired old man with a bird's nest of hair stepped out, looking warily at these uninvited guests.

Just as Song Heping got out of the car, the old man waved at them, "This is a church, no weapons allowed! Only women, children, and the wounded are here, no soldiers."

Looking at the devout and kind old man, Song Heping smiled and said, "We are not armed personnel, we are merchants heading to Ethiopia, my companion was injured during a robbery and urgently needs medical treatment. We heard there is a doctor here, is that correct?"

The old man was stunned for a moment.

Then, a blonde woman in a white coat appeared in the doorway behind him.

"Where is the wounded? Let me see."

"Here."

Song Heping pointed to the back seat of the car.

"His thigh was shot. I used a hemostatic belt to stop the bleeding, but it needs stitching and disinfection."

The blonde woman came down the steps and approached the car.

Song Heping led her to the back seat, pointing to the pale Mr. Hou, "That's him, the wound is on his thigh."

The blonde woman bent down and proficiently examined the wound.

Song Heping noticed her white coat was stained with blood...

This indicated she had been treating other wounded.

"The bleeding doesn't indicate a major artery hit, he can be saved, but..."

She looked back at Song Heping.

Song Heping saw her blue-gray eyes.

Unlike Angel, this woman had a tinge of Eastern European air, looking somewhat Slavic.

"I need someone to help me with the surgery because my assistant died. This morning a rebel squad came through; she went out of the village to gather food, unfortunately got killed..."

"Fine, I've learned battlefield first aid, I can assist you." Song Heping said without hesitation.

"Then hurry up." The woman waved her hand, "Carry him inside!"

The church was actually quite small; the hall had been completely cleared out, tables and chairs pushed to the left side, the right side made into a makeshift hospital and operating room.

As they entered the church, Song Heping smelled a strong odor of disinfectant mixed with blood. All around, wounded villagers lay on makeshift beds, limbs wrapped with white bandages stained with new blood.

"We must hurry, I don't know when they will come back."

The woman washed her hands and put on a new pair of gloves.

"They?"

"Yes, they."

"Who are they?"

"The rebels, they were here in the morning, Danny fought them off, but only a small squad came then. Danny said they will definitely come back for revenge, he advised us to evacuate immediately."

"Who is Danny?"

"The carpenter of our church."

"A carpenter?" Song Heping was stunned.

Since when did carpenters become so capable of fending off a dozen rebels?

"Yes, stop talking and help me cut the bandage on his wound, then..."

"What's your name, doctor?"

"Maria."

The woman looked up at Song Heping briefly and continued treating the wound.

"Maria Polezhaeva."

"Russian?"

"Sort of..."

"One of our companions is your countryman, his name is Antonov."

As Song Heping helped, he tried to lighten the mood by chatting with Maria.

Normally, meeting a fellow countryman abroad could quickly bring a sense of closeness.

To his surprise, Maria remained indifferent, "I have many countrymen in Africa; they come to make money. I'm here to save lives; we are not the same kind."

Song Heping: "..."

He thought to himself, this lady really has some character!