This time, Song Heping dared not linger and sprinted two kilometers straight away, finding a hole under a big tree by the river. He squatted by the entrance and imitated a couple of bird calls.
"Song!"
Morins crawled out from inside and, seeing the ghost-like figure of Song Heping in the darkness, excitedly reached out to grasp his arm.
"Sss—"
With that grip, Morins caused Song Heping to involuntarily inhale sharply from the pain.
"Let go of your claws, it hurts."
Morins was startled, "You're injured?"
"Never mind that, it's just a superficial wound," Song Heping said, "Listen to me now, run north immediately, go to the ELN camp. You should still be familiar with the jungle here, right? Don't get lost. I can't protect you any longer. Make your own way and find reinforcements, then come back for me."
"Brother, I can't just abandon you," Morins said with staunch loyalty, "If it weren't for you, I would have been dead long ago. Now in this situation, if I leave you here and run away by myself, would I still be human?"
Song Heping couldn't help but laugh.
Morins was truly not bad. He had a sense of loyalty and was a tough guy, but his individual combat skills were lacking. Although he had been a guerrilla in the jungle for so many years and was more than a match for the average government army, he was no match for the Green Berets, who were renowned as jungle warfare specialists.
Just now, even Song had nearly died at the hands of those Green Berets, let alone Morins.
The Green Berets only needed to kill Morins to consider their mission successful, and Song's current trip to South America would be deemed a complete failure.
No matter what, Morins could not die.
Of course, if Song died, that would only mean his own lack of skill and he couldn't blame anyone else.
For the money earned by literally licking blood off a knife's edge, one must have the courage to face death.
"Don't you get it? You're the key to this whole affair. If you die, everything is meaningless, understand? I put a big bet on coming here to deal with you this time. If you die, who the hell is going to buy my arms?! If you truly appreciate what I've done, after we both get out of this alive, you should buy more arms from me, bring in more clients from around here. I don't mind dealing with drug traffickers or anything, as long as they don't drive down my prices!"
Song Heping wasn't desperately greedy for money to the point of discussing business at such a time; rather, having already risked his life for this guy, it would be a shame not to have him buy more of his arms in the future and help him establish a foothold in South America.
"Brother, rest assured, as long as I live, I'll buy all my arms from you unless you're out of stock!"
Morins patted his chest, making a loud thud, almost as if he hated not being able to slice open his chest and show his heart to Song Heping right then and there.
"Enough chit-chat, get moving. Do as I told you, the faster you find people to come back for me, the safer I'll be. If you stay here, I can hardly guarantee you won't die, and then I'll have to look out for you, and might end up risking my own life too! It's not worth it!"
Song Heping's words struck home.
If he wanted to run, he would have done so long ago.
Now that the Green Berets were on to them, only one could escape, and Song decided to let Morins be the one.
"Okay!"
Morins was not the hesitant kind, already clear on the pros and cons of the situation.
With Song Heping putting it that way, he had no choice but to comply.
"Don't worry, I'll run back and call for help as fast as I can. Trust my men; they're probably organizing to move into the mountains to look for me right now. I'll head north and then west. I should be able to meet up with them. I know which route they prefer to take."
Having said that, Morins stood up to leave.
After taking a few steps, he looked back at Song Heping.
Song Heping could only wave his hand at him, shooing him away like a duck, "Get lost! Those Americans will catch up soon!"
Only then did Morins grit his teeth and vanish into the darkness.
Song Heping looked around, then broke a branch off a nearby plant.
Then he ran a few steps south and broke off another plant stem.
He was deliberately leaving clues.
He wanted the Green Berets to track him down.
These guys were actually pretty annoying. Although he had killed a few of them, they had managed to stick to him.
He couldn't shake them off just by running.
It seemed he had to lead them on while wearing them down to see who would run out of stamina first, who would make the first mistake.
Whoever erred would die.
With the intent to kill rising within him, Song Heping's unyielding demon inside surged to the forefront again.
He wasn't fearful at all; on the contrary, he was exhilarated. He no longer saw this confrontation as a battle but as an extreme game of killing.
The top Special Soldiers all have this nature; when immersed in a killing field, the primal instincts sedimented in their blood start to roil.
The smell of blood isn't frightening, but exhilarating.
In the past, Song Heping had had several encounters with the US Special Forces, including the top-tier squad "Watcher."
This time it was the Green Berets, the kings of jungle warfare.
The more elite the prey, the more it aroused the killer's interest in Song Heping.
He decided to wipe them out entirely.
There were eight of them in total. He had already killed four.
That meant there were only four left.