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墨書 Inktalez
Peter heard John's shouting and quickly asked from inside, "John! What's going on?" as he ran outside.
John threw the rope in his hand far away and replied, "Nothing, I just tripped over a roll of rope!"
By this time, Peter had reached John's side and asked in confusion, "Rope? What rope? Where is it?"
"I already threw it away," John answered angrily. "Look, isn't that it?" He pointed to the rope he had tossed aside.
Peter walked over in the direction John indicated and picked up the muddy, dirty roll of rope from the ground. He examined it closely, and his expression grew serious. He asked John, "Where did you find this rope?"
"Right here, where our truck just parked... By the way, how did a rope end up here? And the mud on it is still wet," John seemed to realize something as he exchanged glances with Peter. They shared a look of understanding. Peter gestured to John, nodded, and quickly closed the large door before both retreated back into the factory.
Once inside the factory, Peter signaled to the others, who immediately gathered around. He showed them the rope he was holding while communicating with gestures. This form of communication was a specialized language used by the Lusang Marine Corps. The gestures were simple and easy to understand, allowing for effective communication of combat intentions during battles. This was a mandatory language for every member of the Lusang Marine Corps. In fact, Peter's group originated from the Lusang Marine Corps; they were former comrades who formed a mercenary group after retiring, serving anyone who could afford their price. This mercenary group was named Vulture and consisted of sixty members with an average age of thirty-four. Peter was their commander. The Vulture Mercenary Corps was indeed a killing machine; each member had extensive combat experience and had taken dozens of lives. After eight years of service to various groups and individuals—including business tycoons and politicians—they consistently completed their missions successfully. A crucial rule for mercenaries was loyalty to their employers, naturally supported by substantial financial incentives. The Vulture Mercenary Corps had gained a formidable reputation in Western countries; it wasn't due to their numbers but because they had never disappointed any employer in eight years. All team members were retired soldiers from the Lusang Marine Corps, and those wishing to join had to undergo even more rigorous training.
Soldiers trained by Peter remembered one of his nicknames—Tiberius—meaning Tiberian Demon, which referred to an aggressive demon with considerable intelligence in Western legends. This reflects Peter's demanding and harsh training methods. In typical mercenary groups, the ratio of ordinary people becoming professional mercenaries is about ten to one; that is, only one out of ten can pass through rigorous training to become a professional mercenary. However, in Peter's Vulture Mercenary Corps, this ratio is much lower. He never accepted applications from retired soldiers of other armies; all members must be from the Lusang Marine Corps. Even among retired special forces from the Lusang Marine Corps, only one in five could join his mercenary group after passing his stringent training.
This almost extreme training and selection process ensured that his Vulture Mercenary Corps possessed exceptional combat capabilities. It would not be an exaggeration to say that every member of this corps was a true Rambo. However, hiring this superhuman mercenary group composed entirely of Rambos came at a steep price. Thus, despite successfully executing numerous missions over eight years, none of their employers had ever hired them for more than a year consecutively due to their high fees—unless it was a task that no other mercenaries could complete—until a year ago when someone named Smith-Tang approached Peter and signed a long-term contract with the Vulture Mercenary Corps.
Peter couldn't quite figure out what kind of person Smith-Tang was; the tasks assigned were bizarre—assassinations, kidnappings, military operations, and even coups—and took place all over the world. From north to south and from west to east, the Vulture Mercenary Corps left behind remarkable achievements everywhere they went. This time Smith-Tang brought over ten people with him to Heavenly Pride Nation; he didn't specify their exact mission but mentioned there would be significant actions ahead and that all Vulture Team Members would be gradually relocated to Heavenly Pride. This surprised even Peter because since the establishment of the Vulture Mercenary Corps eight years ago—except for once when they were hired by Y Country's royal family to search for so-called treasures in Iran's Lut Desert—they had never mobilized all members at once. That trip to Lut Desert became a nightmare for the Vulture Mercenary Corps; they encountered no formidable enemies or engaged any forces directly but lost over ten warriors' lives there instead. The Lut Desert is one of the hottest places on Earth, with temperatures reaching seventy degrees Celsius; even members of the Vulture Mercenary Corps couldn't withstand such extreme conditions combined with attacks from desert scorpions and snakes lurking around. They struggled in Lut Desert for nearly a month before returning home after leaving behind several comrades' bodies.
Peter always regarded that operation in Lut Desert as a disgrace for the Vulture Mercenary Corps; this singular full-scale deployment left him with lingering shadows in his heart. Therefore, upon hearing that this time all members would be deployed again to Heavenly Pride Nation, he inexplicably felt an ominous premonition as if Vulture would repeat its misfortunes from that treasure-hunting mission in Lut Desert.
Several people gathered around Peter using hand signals to communicate quickly analyzed the origin and purpose of the roll of rope. The wet mud on it indicated it arrived with their van while its neatly cut ends suggested it had been severed by a sharp knife. The only explanation for both conditions was that someone had already infiltrated along with their vehicle and had now cut the rope to escape; they were likely hiding somewhere within this factory.
Peter gestured for John to return to the basement to retrieve the weapons and equipment. Moments later, John returned with five silenced Ruger P89 9mm handguns, five Jungle Combat Knives, five pairs of Infrared Night Vision Goggles, and five Wireless Headsets. Although the gear was simple, it exuded a fierce killing intent among the group, embodying the true aura of a killer.
Two team members swiftly climbed over the wall and took cover, using the Infrared Night Vision Goggles to block any escape routes. Peter cut off the power supply in the factory, plunging the entire building into thick darkness. Peter and the other two donned their Infrared Night Vision Goggles and began searching upstairs, level by level.
Just as the black-clad man reached the third floor, the emergency exit indicator light suddenly flickered. This was a brief switch from the main power supply to the emergency backup. The emergency exit lights were equipped with their own backup power; they could automatically switch within 0.3 seconds if there was an issue with the main supply. However, this brief flicker caught the attention of the black-clad man. He quickly ducked down by a window and cautiously opened it to look outside. A muffled gunshot rang out, and he quickly pulled his head back down to hide beneath the window. The sound of shattering glass echoed above him as shards rained down on his head. Fortunately, his entire head was covered by a woolen hat; otherwise, he would have been injured by the glass.
This is bad! He realized he had been discovered. Hesitating for a moment, he hurriedly ran to another window while pulling out his phone. He dialed a number and spoke rapidly before hanging up: "A factory thirty minutes outside Longchuan North Suburb, arms!" After saying this, he shot his phone with his sidearm, shattering it into pieces along with the SIM card. The black-clad man checked around before pushing open the window and leaping down.
"Bang!" Another gunshot rang out as he was in mid-air; he felt a jolt in his body as a bullet struck his left shoulder. The Ruger P89's power was formidable; luckily, the silencer absorbed some of its energy; otherwise, his shoulder would have been blown apart. Gritting his teeth against the intense pain in his shoulder, he fired a few shots randomly in the direction of the gunfire. Although he missed his target, it at least created some distraction. Before another shot could be fired, he landed on the ground and rolled several times behind a flowerbed for cover. He was fairly certain that his opponent had infrared night vision equipment; otherwise, it would have been impossible to shoot so accurately in complete darkness. After landing, he quickly sought shelter. As he rolled behind the flowerbed, several more gunshots rang out nearby, sending dirt flying around him.
Just as he was about to disappear behind the flowerbed, a bullet struck his right thigh.
Damn! It looks like I'm done for today. The black-clad man smiled as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket; fortunately, they were still dry. He took one out and lit it up, inhaling deeply as smoke slowly escaped from his nostrils. Holding his gun in his right hand and closing his eyes while leisurely smoking felt no different than keeping them open in this pitch-black environment; lighting a cigarette or not made no difference either—his opponent relied on infrared night vision equipment; smoking wouldn't help him hide.
Peter and his two companions had returned downstairs while the two on the wall remained vigilant. With Peter's presence alone was enough to deal with one person. Peter signaled for them to fan out towards where the black-clad man was hiding behind the flowerbed, who was still leisurely smoking.
Peter's group could see wisps of smoke rising from behind the flowerbed; they were only three or four meters away now. Cautiously advancing forward on the ground covered with fallen leaves that had already dried up, their military boots made slight "clop" sounds as they stepped on them. Suddenly, the black-clad man's ears perked up; he opened his eyes wide and flicked away the cigarette butt towards where he heard a noise coming from while simultaneously firing his gun...
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