124 Seizing Control of the Situation

The war continued, the dense sound of gunfire piercing through eardrums. After the harrowing scene just moments ago, Li Changjiang’s heart was pounding like a drum, beating against his taut nerves.

He even worried for a moment if he might suffer a sudden cardiac arrest.

Creeping along the eaves, the two kept their bodies as low as possible. As they crossed the second railing, Li Changjiang suddenly lifted his head, his gaze sweeping into the distance. He quickly caught a faint flash of light—it appeared and vanished in an instant, but it was starkly visible against the dark night sky.

Anyone who had experienced war knew exactly what that was.

"Damn it, a sniper!"

A rebel sniper!

Cursing under his breath, the two remained pressed against the ground, motionless.

They were far too close!

The gunfire ringing in their ears confirmed Li Changjiang’s judgment, though the enemy did not seem to have spotted the two men approaching.

*Phut! Phut-phut!*

Several muffled sounds echoed. Less than ten meters in front of them, the flashes from the muzzles confirmed to Li Changjiang and the Russian that they had stumbled directly into an ambush point for the rebel snipers.

It was an opportunity—rare and perfect.

Five men! Two snipers, two spotters, and one assault gunner.

Seeing the numbers the Russian indicated with his fingers, Li Changjiang immediately understood the enemy’s composition.

"You take the left, I’ll take the right."

Nodding, Li Changjiang lay motionless on the rooftop. Sweat continued to bead on his forehead, and his palms were slick; the tension was overwhelming. This was not his first face-to-face encounter with enemy snipers, but he knew this battle was different. If he failed now, Batra’s men below would likely be wiped out, and he, the Russian, and the rest would likely share that fate. If they were trapped here, he didn't believe those damned Libyans would come to their rescue.

Calming his nerves, he took a deep breath and signaled the Russian that he was in position.

"Ready."

With his right index finger locked firmly on the trigger, his nerves coiled tight, he stared down the sight line, his breathing rhythmic and steady.

*Bang!*

The first shot!

*Bang-bang!*

A rapid double-tap followed.

*Phut! Phut!*

The miracle the Libyans had been hoping for did not occur. Within a distance of less than twenty meters, Li Changjiang struck his targets with lethal precision. By the time he had cleared the snipers, the Russian had taken care of the others.

With all five men neutralized, they immediately surged toward the rooftop of the building ahead. Li kicked one of the bodies on the ground; there was no movement.

"Clear!"

"They’re stone dead." The Russian’s voice was cold, chillingly so, but Li Changjiang did not mourn the dead. He understood that on the battlefield, there was no room for mercy.

But suddenly, the Russian froze as his gaze caught a dog tag hanging from the neck of one of the corpses.

"Damn it!"

The Russian roughly pulled open the man's jacket, yanking out a silver chain. The lettering was small and hard to read, but the Russian’s expression turned grim.

"What?"

"Nicholas, is something wrong?"

Li Changjiang realized something was strange. He might have been a newcomer to the battlefield, but he was no novice. When he looked at the weapons the men were carrying, he realized that something was off. The Libyan rebels could not possibly possess such sophisticated individual weaponry.

Modified M4A1 assault rifles! Brand new Browning pistols! And, even more striking, two L115A3 sniper rifles, their very design enough to make one’s heart skip a beat.

The British!

How could it be the British?

Li Changjiang’s knowledge of infantry weapons was limited, but these L115s, costing tens of thousands of dollars each, were definitely not in that category. Even the pristine SVD in his own hands could not compare.

"Are they British?"

The L115 was a high-precision sniper system used by British Special Forces. Compared to the large-caliber anti-materiel rifles like the Barrett series, it was lighter, yet its 8.59mm special ammunition packed a formidable punch. To some extent, it was one of Britain’s most outstanding achievements in weapon design—and certainly not for sale.

"Li, we are in deep trouble. Those damn Libyans have actually hooked up with the Brits."

Li Changjiang’s face darkened. The news over the past two days had reported as much. Unlike the Americans, who had become uncharacteristically diplomatic, the British had been clamoring about the possibility of deploying ground troops into Libya. Although the international community knew this was merely a way for Britain to exert psychological pressure on the Libyan government forces—particularly Khamis’s troops—it was now clear that the British were not just talking.

"Are you sure they’re British, and not Americans or French?" Though he felt it unlikely, Li Changjiang asked nonetheless.

The Russian glanced at him, then knelt down to rummage through the bodies once more.

Watches. Maps. Lighters. Daggers. Magazines and a vast array of individual equipment, even grenades—these bastards. The gear carried by these four men alone was enough to sustain a high-intensity assault. Li Changjiang suddenly felt like a hillbilly; he had agonized over spending hundreds of thousands on his own gear, but compared to the four men they had just killed, he wasn't even in the same league.

Finally, the Russian found a small red notebook.

"Li, I have some good news and some bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?"

Li Changjiang rolled his eyes, ignoring the Russian. He quickly found the optimal shooting position, pressed his eye to the scope, and answered the Russian with a muffled *thud*.

*Bang!*

The custom armor-piercing round shattered a door twenty meters away, punching straight through the head of a rebel machine gunner. Through the scope, Li Changjiang could see the round had nearly obliterated half the man's skull, spraying gore across the face of the rebel next to him. It was sickening.

*Bang!*

Another shot. Another man, who had poked half his body out, was taken down.

In the corridor on the second floor to the right, Batra felt the enemy fire weaken significantly the moment those two machine gunners were neutralized. At that moment, the headset on his left ear, which had been malfunctioning since the shockwave of the first rocket blast, suddenly crackled back to life.

"To hell with bad connections. Arab-made gear is trash."

"Batra, this is Duke. We are in position and can provide covering fire."

Despite the offhand tone, hearing Li Changjiang’s heavy breathing over the headset, Batra understood the situation they had just faced. If not for hearing Li’s voice, he would have assumed they were dead after that last explosion.

"Duke, thank you!"

"Save it until we’ve finished off these damn Libyans."

*Bang-bang!*

He pulled the trigger again. This time, he found his rhythm. The sensation of controlling life and death returned to his hands, and Li Changjiang’s confidence surged to an unprecedented high.

After a dozen more shots, by the time Batra led his men through the defensive line and cleared the entire building, only sporadic gunfire remained. Behind him, the Russian was still looking at that small red notebook, seemingly unaware that they were currently in the middle of a battle.

"Hey! Li, we’ve hit the jackpot!"

Putting away his rifle, Li Changjiang climbed up from the ground, stunned by the excitement in the Russian’s voice.