11 PM, deep in the night.
The convoy crept silently through the desolate night of the Siria desert.
The wheels crunched over gravel and dried shrubs, producing a muffled and continuous rustling, the only melody in the night.
The interior of the vehicle was dimly lit, with only the faint cold light from the instrument panel and each person's terminal screen illuminating faces disguised with camo paint, expressionless.
Heavy gear was firmly secured to well-suspended seats, swaying slightly with the vehicle's bumps.
Song Heping and Hunter shared the lead vehicle with Major Petrovsky, "Cold Blade" Sokolov, and "Hawkeye" Savelyev.
Hunter held his SV-98, eyes closed, resting, breathing evenly, as if asleep.
This was his habit.
But Song Heping knew that this seasoned sniper's senses were as precise as the most delicate radar, continually scanning the surroundings.
Meanwhile, Song Heping meticulously examined the real-time satellite images displayed on the terminal in front of "Hawkeye."
On the black-and-white or infrared overhead images, three green dots representing their own forces were moving slowly and steadily to the northeast, and the roads, villages, and even the heat signals of scattered vehicles within dozens of kilometers were clearly visible.
"Signal is clear, 'Vine-2' has passed overhead, with no blind spots for the next four hours."
"Signal" Lebedev's communication came through from the second vehicle, sounding exceptionally clear over the noise-canceling headset.
"Received. Maintain surveillance, report any abnormal heat sources or radio activity immediately," Petrovsky responded.
A prolonged silence was broken by a somewhat deliberate conversation from the rear cabin.
It was the lead gunner "Iron Hammer" Volkov and the second assault trooper "Shadow" Yefimov, their voices transmitted through the internal communication channel, seemingly intending for Song Heping and Hunter to hear.
"Hey, 'Shadow,' remember that unfinished building in Donbas last time? Those guys with NLAW trying to ambush us?"
"Iron Hammer's" rough voice spoke.
"Of course, 'Iron Hammer.' With that PKP, you turned the wall they were hiding behind, along with the furniture inside, into sieves. When we went in to clean up, we could hardly find a single intact corpse."
"Shadow's" voice held a kind of cold reminiscence.
"That's nothing."
Demolitions expert "Thunder God" Kuznetsov joined the conversation, patting the bag beside him filled with various explosives.
"The real fun was in Northern Caucasus. A bunch of armed guys hiding in a cave, thinking they were safe. I slipped in a little surprise, calculated the shockwave refraction angle... Guess what? An entire platoon inside, not a single one needed a follow-up shot."
"Low efficiency, 'Thunder God.'
Vanguard "Frost" Morozov interjected coldly.
"I prefer close combat. Last time during the Northern Caucasus raid, I turned a corner and met a guy with an AK, my dagger was 0.3 seconds faster than his muzzle. He could feel the blade's chill cutting through his windpipe but couldn't make a sound."
He spoke as he picked up his knife, making a throat-slitting motion, even though no one could see it in the channel.
These conversations, filled with gory details, were both a psychological release for the Special Forces soldiers under high pressure and a clear display of boasting, testing Song Heping and Hunter—probing whether they had faced true blood-and-iron trials.
Song Heping continued to calmly watch the screen, Hunter didn't even lift an eyelid.
Major Petrovsky frowned, knowing well what his arrogant team members were aiming at, but didn't stop them.
In the circle of Special Soldiers, some barriers need to be broken by the parties involved themselves.
At this moment, the medic "Angel" Romanoff's gentle voice attempted to smooth the atmosphere: "Alright, brothers, save some energy for Latamira. The 'guests' there might be more 'enthusiastic.'"
"Iron Hammer" seemed to feel the firepower was insufficient, directly addressing: "Boss Song, over there in Africa, dealing with those black militia guys, is it as easy as hunting? I heard they don't even have decent rifles."
Song Heping finally shifted his gaze from the screen, and said in an even tone: "We faced more than just militia. There were also well-trained, well-equipped PMCs. As for the combat, those are just little matters, not worth mentioning..."
He paused, as if reminiscing.
"The real battle was over here. For instance, two months ago when I returned to Illiguo, leading 300 pushing hard against 3,000 of 1515 Armed in the Dry River Valley, and we survived, pretty lucky."
His narrative devoid of flowery words or exaggerated details, but that calmness bordering on coldness conveyed a pressure far greater than the bloody descriptions of the SSO members.
The cabin fell silent once more.
These Russian Special Soldiers realized the seemingly calm Asian before them had likely faced combat as brutal as their own.
They all knew the caliber of the 1515 extremist organization, to take on a force of three thousand with a mere three hundred...
Even among Russia's elite Special Forces, it was enough to send chills down their spines.
"One hour to the scheduled rest point."
"Hawkeye" timely reported in the channel, breaking the silence.
"Discovered a dried riverbed ten kilometers ahead, suitable for temporary concealment and rest."
Petrovsky nodded: "Notify all vehicles to proceed to the riverbed as planned, maintain radio silence, shut down engines, fifteen-minute rest and external vigilance."
The dried riverbed cut like a deep scar across the earth, winding into the distance under the dim starlight.