Chapter 20: Encountering the Tank Once More

If a man cannot even protect his own father, how could he ever truly fulfill his duties as a son or, one day, as a father himself?

Li Changjiang was certainly not the kind of person to turn his back in such moments.

His family, the Li clan, was thriving and did not depend on his bloodline to continue their legacy. Yet Li Changjiang could vividly imagine the agony Liu Fen would feel—how could any child bear to witness their parent’s suffering and do nothing?

So, the instant he leapt over the embassy wall, something within Li Changjiang changed. He became calm, shrewd, and even a touch ruthless, fully aware that this departure meant facing either life or death—there were no other choices.

But it was a shame to leave behind all the beautiful things that awaited him. If he survived this ordeal, he would dedicate his life to protecting them.

His figure melted into the night.

There was still a dull ache at his abdomen, but the embassy’s medical staff had already cleaned and bandaged his wound; it was nothing serious now.

Tripoli was unusually quiet at this hour.

He followed Embassy Street out, pulled out a map, and quickly found his destination: Tajoura.

This was a town on the eastern edge of Tripoli, a crucial passage on the coastal highway to Benghazi.

But now, Gaddafi's government had heavily fortified the area. Getting through would be extremely difficult.

Li Changjiang spent $200 to flag down a car and had the driver take him straight to a checkpoint on the outskirts of Tripoli.

“Brabra?” the local said.

“What did you say?” Li Changjiang asked.

The local rattled off something incomprehensible, pointed at himself, then at the checkpoint ahead, and made a leaping gesture. Li Changjiang finally understood.

“Yes, I want to get across. Over there, you understand?”

Through gestures and guesses, they came to some kind of agreement, but Li Changjiang still wasn’t sure what the man meant—until he saw the driver pull out the very dollars he’d just paid him. Only then did the hint dawn on him.

“You mean to bribe them? Bribe, you get it?”

The local shook his head. There was simply no common language between them.

“Jira, wuliwala,” the Libyan babbled excitedly. Li Changjiang was about to argue further, but the man suddenly slammed his foot down on the gas. The engine roared, shattering the night’s peace like a thunderclap.

Papapapapa!

Da-da-da-da!

Bullets tore through the air.

Sparks flew as government troops at the distant checkpoint began to encircle their position. But to Li Changjiang’s astonishment, the soldiers ignored them, rushing instead toward a convoy behind.

Whoosh!

From afar, a rocket streaked with a long white tail from a pickup and slammed into the checkpoint’s defenses, erupting in a cloud of thick smoke.

Da-da-da-da!

Papapapapa!

Boom!

Bang! Bang!

A torrent of gunfire poured down like a sudden rainstorm. When Li Changjiang kicked open the door and scrambled out, he saw that the local driver had already been killed.

When it rains, it pours.

He cursed under his breath.

Quickly, Li Changjiang dodged the crossfire and ran to the side of the checkpoint’s fortifications, hoping to find a chance to escape. But the scene before him made his heart pound with dread.

Two heavy machine guns were concealed behind reinforced concrete bunkers, firing in a deadly cross at a ninety-degree angle—covering nearly the entire approach. Unless those guns were neutralized, escape was impossible.

The identity of those attacking was unclear, but though their firepower was fierce, their direct assault was proving ineffective. Furthermore, the government troops seemed ready for them, and their fire was anything but weak.

Whiz!

Bang!

Suddenly.

A sound, instantly recognizable to his ears.

A sniper rifle.

Li Changjiang pressed himself to the ground, peering toward the perimeter from where the shot had come. The darkness made it hard to see.

Whiz!

Thud!

The gunshot had a unique timbre. Holding his breath, Li Changjiang realized it was a sound he’d heard only in films.

A Barrett.

Undoubtedly, it was the distinctive report of a Barrett.

A 12.7mm armor-piercing round screamed from the barrel, smashing into the concrete defenses like a heavy bomb. Still, even this could barely penetrate the thick walls of reinforced concrete.

Barretts came in many models, and even armor-piercing rounds varied, so Li Changjiang couldn’t tell which type was in use. Regardless, in theory, any could punch through the wall—if the shooter hit the same spot multiple times in succession, a feat demanding inhuman skill.

“Boss, I can’t punch through! It won’t penetrate!”

Li Changjiang didn’t know how good an ace sniper really was, but with an automatic targeting system, even he might manage to hit the same spot a few times at less than thirty meters. But this shooter clearly wasn’t up to the task.

In truth, Li Changjiang was only partly correct. Even top snipers would struggle to hit the same point repeatedly at any distance. His own success had less to do with skill than with that miraculous aiming system and proximity. That was why Yang Jianyong once thought him a precision marksman—he’d overlooked the range. Beyond the system’s effective distance, Li Changjiang’s accuracy would drop drastically, or even miss entirely.

“Louis, knock out that gun nest! Their reinforcements are almost here!”

“Boss, I can’t penetrate the defenses!”

“Tim, have you got any ideas?”

“Look! Someone’s crawling there!”

“Gene, quick—does that look like an Asian man to you?”

At the assault point, a group of compact, sharp-featured Western men with faces streaked in camouflage paint suddenly fixed their gaze on Li Changjiang, who was crawling below the government’s defensive works.

“Someone’s here?”

“Bob, go get him.”

“Why me? There’s no time. Boss, what’s your call?”

They exchanged glances, waiting for the white man in charge to decide. They were mercenaries, bound by no code of humanitarian concern.

Yet, despite everything, these were ex-military elites from armies around the world; senseless killing was not their nature.

“Damn it! You all keep up the suppressive fire—I’m going to get him!”

As he spoke, the man darted out, and the others redoubled their gunfire, pinning the government troops so that only the two heavy machine guns still barked.

Li Changjiang had barely managed to get up when a towering man lunged toward him. In the next instant, an iron grip seized his waist, and he was dragged away in a rolling dive.

Thud-thud-thud!

A burst of bullets tore up the ground where he’d just lain—sending a cold chill through his heart.

“Name!”

“Who are you?” Li Changjiang, after more than a decade of English lessons, finally had a chance to use them.

But the man was in no mood for conversation, barking a terse command.

Li Changjiang wanted to curse the man’s ancestors, but considering he’d just saved his life, he restrained himself.

Not far off, the government soldiers were growing restless. Behind them, Li Changjiang could already hear the engines of armored vehicles, and a grinding, metallic clatter that sent his scalp crawling.

That sound was all too familiar.

“Damn it, tanks again.”

Ranking’s dropping fast—if you’re reading, please vote! Join the Hunt group, 121162553.