Conspiracy (Part 3!)

This is the third update today! Even though there are critics, Rice will still keep writing according to his own vision as always. Please vote for recommendation and help "Global Hunt" rise! Prove that it’s not just filler—it’s Rice! It’s sustenance!

Some say war is a game for conspirators.
Others insist war is just war, nothing more.
Conspiracy.
Slaughter.
These two seem forever entwined.
And war is always cruel.

For a group of young men barely in their twenties, to reach the end of their lives may be an eternal regret, but this war was never meant to be theirs.

"Carson!"
"Carson!"
Fuck!
Damn it!
"Medic!"
"Medic, come here!"

Bang!
Bang bang bang!

In the massive equipment depot outside the U.S. North Africa Operations Command, Black Hawk helicopters were being towed out of the hangar one after another. On a huge metal platform, mountains of ammunition and grenades lay piled, the golden sheen of shell casings glinting under the lights. Dozens of Marines gathered around, eyes glued to the radio on the platform. The voices from the speakers made their palms sweat, but also stoked the flames of battle within them.

Fuck!

With a curse from the speakers, everyone’s mood grew unnaturally restless. Clearly, they had just lost another brother.

Carson Pierce!
A young father, a soldier, a brother.

"Move out!"
"Go! Go! Go!"

The entire base erupted in a frenzy. The roar of engines and the clatter of gear as men ran was as deafening as a rainstorm.

"Fuck! Move, move, move! Everyone carry as much ammo and as many grenades as you can—shed any unnecessary weight. We’re going into battle, not to a show, understood?"

"Yes, sir!"
"Okay, go!"

At the order, the Marines immediately began checking their weapons and ammunition. Magazines were stuffed into ammo pouches. No one hesitated.

In less than two minutes, a rapid reaction force comprising over a dozen Humvees, four Black Hawk helicopters, three rescue choppers, and two armed reconnaissance helicopters sped off toward Libya.

Inside the command center, Sloan Allen knew full well he would have to answer for this assault, but not now. Since the gloves were off, there was no need to hide anymore.

Bang!

With a single shot, Anderson killed a Libyan trying to rush them and once again called for support.

"Colonel, requesting support! We need backup."
"Fuck! Anderson! Anderson!"
"What?"

Tossing aside his radio, Anderson quickly moved to the side of two other soldiers.

Damn it!
"Clark! Clark!"

He cursed bitterly. The soldier named Clark was already lifeless, his arm slipping from Anderson’s grasp and thudding to the ground, blood pooling beneath his feet. He’d been hit directly in the carotid artery—there was no surviving that.

The entire highway reeked of death.

Rat-a-tat-tat!

Fuck!

"Adams, what the hell are you doing?"
"Damn Libyans, I’ll kill them all, kill them all!"

Adams seemed to have lost control, charging forward with a wild fury before Anderson could hold him back.

Thud! Thud thud!

Several bullets struck Adams in the chest, one passing clean through his left shoulder, splattering blood across his face.

In under a minute, three lives were snuffed out.

No one would praise them. No one would remember them at this moment.

Through the scope, Li Changjiang watched the scene, feeling a tightness in his chest, but made no move.

Elisa took the scope from him and quickly looked toward the armored convoy on the other side.

"Hey! We’ve all been duped. They’re not General Hamis’s men."

"Fuck, what?"

Ryan’s voice was full of disbelief, as if he couldn’t accept what he was hearing.

Impossible!
They weren’t Libyan government troops.

But Li Changjiang remained calm. He’d already begun to suspect as much.

If these were government soldiers, the way those Libyans charged the Americans so recklessly would have already raised doubts. It simply wasn’t the government’s style; Qaddafi’s men didn’t have that kind of courage.

Doubting the fighting strength of Qaddafi’s army might seem inappropriate now, but Li Changjiang was certain—these were not government troops.

"Elisa! I think we’ve been tricked. They want to provoke the Americans, to push them into further military action against Tripoli."

Quickly, Li Changjiang understood the rebels’ intentions.

He was shocked by the sheer audacity of their plan. Either the mastermind was a genius or a madman.

"Damn it! What do we do now?"

Ryan was growing frantic.

"Hey, man, stay calm, okay? We’re getting out of here alive."

Li Changjiang tried to reassure him, but suddenly, a rocket screamed over from the rebel side across the road, its tail blazing.

Boom!

A violent explosion sent a shockwave that flung Li Changjiang and Elisa aside.

"Get down!"
"RPG!"

But it was already too late—a second RPG tore through Ryan’s chest and exploded, shrouding both Li Changjiang and Elisa in a mist of blood. Li Changjiang tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth and immediately vomited.

Disgusting!
Utterly revolting!

He retched for a while, and when nothing but bile was left in his stomach, he finally recovered a little. But the thought that Ryan’s blood had gotten into his mouth made his stomach clench again.

He shook his canteen, resisting the urge to use the last of his water to wash his face, and quickly pulled Elisa to a new position. He raised his gun and opened fire.

Bang bang!
Bang!

Two rebels charging their way dropped instantly. Li Changjiang swiftly reloaded and kept pulling the trigger without hesitation.

Bang bang bang!

In no time, he single-handedly suppressed the left flank of the Libyan rebels opposing the American quick reaction team.

Elisa, nerves taut, scavenged magazines from the corpses around them and stacked them by Li Changjiang’s side. The empty shells piled up at his feet. If not for the bodies, Elisa could hardly believe this Chinese man was single-handedly holding down the entire left firepoint.

But no one was more frustrated than Li Changjiang.

What a mess—less than half an hour ago, he’d been shooting at American soldiers. Now, in the blink of an eye, he was fighting side by side with them.

This was a cruel joke.

But frustration aside, Li Changjiang’s hands didn’t slow for a moment. Every nerve was taut, ready to fire the instant a Libyan showed himself within range.

His barrage finally slowed the enemy’s assault, and the gunfire around him eased.

Just as Li Changjiang let out a breath, a piercing roar split the air.

He instantly swung his rifle toward the sky above the road.

Looking through the scope, he was stunned—then cursed aloud.

"Shit!"