Ashala Town, Wake Na Mercenaries' temporary command post.
The makeshift room was filled with the smell of disinfectant and blood.
The cook's wounds had been treated again by the team doctor, and he was hooked up to an IV drip. He leaned against a camp bed, his face still pale but his spirits somewhat improved.
Utekin and Jiang Feng sat beside him.
"So you're saying... Sang exchanged his life for ours?"
With a hoarse voice, the cook, who had learned everything, stared blankly at the ceiling.
"Yes..." Utekin nodded.
"Don't you fucking talk about doom!"
The cook growled irritably, punching the ammo box beside him with a dull thud.
"Alive, I need to see him! Dead, I need to see his body! I refuse to believe he's just gone like that! Gelbi Mountain is so big, the bombardment was wide, what if he managed to escape?!"
Jiang Feng remained relatively calm, but his eyes were equally grave: "We tried all secure channels, including emergency backup frequencies, but there was no response. The satellite images of the bombing area... everything is charred black, with almost zero life signals. I've reported this to Ferrari, who shares your disbelief..."
He didn't continue, his throat felt like it was stuffed with hemp, unbearably uncomfortable.
Under such saturation bombing, the chances of survival were slim.
The cook closed his eyes, his chest heaving violently for a few moments.
Seconds later, he opened his eyes: "Tsar, take me to Gelbi Mountain! Now! Immediately!"
"Now?!" Utekin was stunned.
The cook's tone was unwavering: "Now!"
Forty minutes later, Gelbi Mountain, southern slope.
The scene before them caused seasoned warriors Utekin, Jiang Feng, and the cook with his arm in a sling to feel intense physiological discomfort and an emotional shock.
The air was filled with a nauseatingly intense burnt stench, the acrid smell of scorched protein, and smoke yet to dissipate.
In view, the entire hillside seemed as if it had been repeatedly plowed by a giant harrow and then coated with thick asphalt.
Once jagged rocks had been melted by high temperatures and re-solidified, appearing in grotesque, twisted glass-like forms.
The ground was covered with a thick layer of gray-white dust — the ash left from the rock, soil, and... human tissue being completely vaporized under high temperature and pressure.
There were no intact corpses.
Only some charred, carbonized remnants of limbs, twisted fragments of metal weapons, and clothes torn to shreds by shock waves, scattered like hell's trash on the scorched earth.
Occasionally, you could see a relatively "complete" charred corpse, frozen in its final struggle, hollow eye sockets staring up at the sky.
"Ugh..."
The cook couldn't hold back any longer and began to vomit violently.
Utekin's face was ashen, his cheeks clenched audibly.
Jiang Feng silently surveyed this land of death.
They searched along the places that were barely recognizable as the path leading up the mountain.
The further up they went, the more evident the traces of battle became.
Although severely damaged by bombing, one could still see rocks riddled with bullet holes, most of the scattered casings melted and deformed, and some simple firing positions built using natural cover.
The choice of these positions was extremely cunning, blocking the most important, most difficult passes to deploy troops.
"Look here!"
Jiang Feng pointed to a massive rock recess, relatively sheltered from the wind.
On the ground, a dozen emptied AK-12 magazines were scattered, with a few unopened magazine packs beside them, and an empty medical pouch.
On the rock wall, there were several deep, dark brown streaks — blood marks left by the wounded leaning against it.
"It's definitely him..."
Utekin squatted down, picked up a deformed casing, his voice somewhat muffled.
"One person... held here... how many did he take out?"
He looked down at that black "carpet" stretching halfway down the mountain, the answer was evident.
They finally reached the edge of the mountain top, near the southern cliff.
The bombing traces here were slightly lighter than those on the periphery but still a mess.
Jiang Feng's eyes were like searchlights, carefully scanning every inch of land.
Suddenly, he found a small piece of cloth burned by high temperatures among the rubble and scorched earth.
He bent down to pick it up, discovering it to be a fragment from a tactical vest. By color differentiation, it should be a piece from the khaki quick-release tactical vest used by Song Heping.
"It's his tactical vest..."
Jiang Feng's voice carried a faint tremor and hope.
He quickly walked to the edge of the cliff and leaned forward to look down.
Below was the calm, gentle Helgan River, winding through a deep canyon.
"He jumped! Before he jumped, he took off his tactical vest. There was a low-altitude parachute in his backpack!"
Utekin also saw the debris, slamming his huge fist into the nearby rock, his eyes lighting up.
"Damn it! I knew it! This bastard wouldn't die so easily! There's no body here! There's debris, meaning he got here, so he definitely jumped! Quick! To the riverbank! Search along the river!"
Nighttime, downstream of the Helgan River, Uelda Village, Faris' house.
Severe headaches and an all-over body ache like being torn apart brought Song Heping back from deep unconsciousness to reality.
He struggled to open his heavy eyelids, his blurry vision gradually coming into focus.
Came into view was a low, smoke-blackened adobe roof, with a dim kerosene lamp flickering in the corner.
The air was filled with a strange, herbal-like scent...
Oh, and also...
A faint whiff of food.
He tried to move, a piercing pain shot from his ribs and left leg, making him involuntarily gasp and groan.