Under the hail of shrapnel, several armed militants who had intended to crawl across the street and dive into the bushes were instantly torn to shreds.
Though shrapnel doesn't necessarily claim lives,
it certainly hurts.
Screams pierced the night sky, sending chills down one's spine.
"Said!"
Upon seeing this, a member of the militants' reconnaissance squad let out a mournful roar and, disregarding his safety, stood up from across the street's bushes and wildly sprayed bullets towards Song Heping's position with his assault rifle.
But all was in vain.
Song Heping didn't even poke out his head.
The grenade had been thrown in a high arc over an obstacle, from the top of a pile of equipment.
So the opponent fired in loneliness, unable to inflict any harm on him.
The team leader quickly paid the price for his rashness.
Hunter up in the tower used a single bullet to bring him down.
"Surrender!"
Song Heping wanted to capture a living prisoner.
"If you want to live, surrender!"
He yelled from behind the equipment pile.
"You don't stand a ghost of a chance at resistance! Don't wait for your cars to come and pick you up—they're all dead, they've been taken out too!"
Song Heping wasn't bluffing.
Just moments ago, news had come from White Bear and his wife, as well as from Grey Wolf.
Several off-road vehicles had just started, trying to reach the work area for a rendezvous, but were shot dead next to their vehicles, without even a chance to get in.
The scene fell silent.
Song Heping checked his watch.
"You only have thirty seconds—if you don't surrender, you'll only meet death!"
He wasn't posturing.
He was merely stating a fact.
Apart from the few armed militants still lying on the ground wailing, the reconnaissance soldiers hiding in the bushes across the street really didn't have a sliver of a chance of successfully resisting.
Although Song Heping and Cook were numerically inferior, having control of the buildings at both ends of the residential and work areas, they had the enemy firmly trapped in that open space.
Putting up a stubborn resistance was meaningless.
Grass can't stop bullets.
Hiding in the bushes didn't mean escaping Cook and Disaster Star's PKM machine gun fire.
What's more, Hunter was lying in wait at a distant tower.
Retreating back to the work area was impossible.
The moment anyone stood up, they'd be sent straight to meet God.
"Song! Just kill them all! Why bother persuading them to surrender? A couple of bursts of fire and they'll all be dead!"
Cook was growing impatient on the communication channel.
"You know shit!"
Song Heping retorted to Cook.
"Just listen to me; you won't be wrong!"
He couldn't be bothered to explain so much and had no time to waste arguing with Cook here.
Wanting to take prisoners was not because Song Heping was soft-hearted.
In combat, of course,
the primary goal was to kill the enemy.
But that's a means,
not the end!
What's the end?
For Song Heping,
the end was to make money!
What's the most important thing for a mercenary company?
Profit!
What he had studied in tactics was to achieve the highest objective at the lowest cost—this is the highest art of war.