Chapter Twenty-Five: American Equipment

“No, you must have seen it wrong. There’s no way that was a special forces unit just now!” Another man, his blue eyes glinting, retorted.

“Hmph, do you really think I’d make a mistake?”

“You…”

“That’s enough, both of you, stop it right now. Jimu is right. It was indeed a special forces unit earlier, but the situation was a bit unexpected—it should be a detachment.”

“A detachment?”

“Yes, probably five to eight people. Not a full special forces team, just a small squad. If I’m not mistaken, some of them may have split up.”

“Split up?” The man who had just disputed looked puzzled, then suddenly realized, “Captain, you mean they split up to search for those people?”

“Exactly. For now, we don’t need to worry about this. Our job is to complete our objective. Jimu, Gobiler, you two move ahead. Although the Chinese don’t have weapons, intelligence suggests two of them are special forces soldiers. Be careful.”

Jimu and Gobiler nodded, shouldering their obviously modified assault rifles, and crept toward the mountain.

“Huff—huff—huff…” Zhu Lan was gasping for air, having run several kilometers. He was at his limit, and if not for Qin Shi’s support, he would have collapsed long ago.

“Let’s rest a moment,” Qin Shi said helplessly, seeing Zhu Lan’s condition.

Zhai Bang stopped and nodded, carefully setting Wang Sheng down before sitting against a rock himself.

As soon as he sat, Zhai Bang pulled out his phone. Seeing a signal, he was overjoyed. Forgetting his fatigue, he immediately dialed.

“Hello?”

“Minister, it’s Zhai Bang. Something's happened!”

“Zhai Bang? Weren’t you in Germany? What happened?” The voice on the other end paused, then questioned him.

“It’s like this…” Zhai Bang recounted the orders they’d received. When he got to the part about the plane being struck by a missile, their forced landing near Iran’s border, and being pursued, his superior was momentarily speechless.

“Repeat that!”

Zhai Bang sighed. “Minister, everything I said is true. We’re in extreme danger. We don’t know how many are after us, and one of Zhu Lan’s security men has been shot. We’ve fled into the mountains but probably can’t hold out much longer!”

“Hold on!” The voice went silent, and Zhai Bang could do nothing but wait.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long. Less than three minutes later, another voice came on the line.

“This is Qin Jun from the Strategic Department.”

“General Qin!” Zhai Bang immediately replied respectfully upon recognizing the caller.

“That’s enough—no need for formalities. We’ve locked onto your coordinates by satellite, but we have no available forces nearby.”

Zhai Bang understood the reality of Iran’s situation. “I know, but right now…”

“I didn’t say there’s no rescue. The navy has warships in the Persian Gulf. I’ll request air corridor access from Iran for support.”

Zhai Bang frowned. Given the relationship between China and Iran, direct Iranian intervention would be faster than naval support from the Gulf. But, thinking of Zhu Lan’s situation, he understood.

“I understand. We’ll hold out until help arrives.”

Qin Jun gave some instructions and hung up, the coordinates of Zhu Lan’s group already relayed.

“How is it?” Qin Shi asked as soon as Zhai Bang put his phone away. With no weapons, they could only rely on rescue. But the lack of weapons wasn’t the biggest problem—food was. No one understood the harshness of the Middle Eastern environment better than Qin Shi. And now, they were hundreds of kilometers from the nearest settlement. Without food, the enemy wouldn’t need to catch them—they’d starve in these barren mountains.

“Headquarters is dispatching marines from the Persian Gulf. All we can do now is wait.”

“The Persian Gulf? That’s too far!” Qin Shi knew all too well the distance—any rescue would have to cross nearly a thousand kilometers, and even by helicopter, it would take almost a day, not counting the weather and other complications.

Zhai Bang sighed. “There’s nothing else we can do. Having any rescue at all is a blessing—we can’t expect more.”

Qin Shi nodded in agreement.

“Enough,” Zhu Lan interrupted, frustrated. “We still have enemies on our tail.”

“So what do we do now?” Wang Sheng looked at Qin Shi. By now, Qin Shi had become the de facto leader. Though Zhu Lan was his boss, he understood that survival came first.

Zhu Lan and Qin Shi fell silent.

“We’ll take it one step at a time. Our first priority is to lose our pursuers.”

“Yes, that’s all we can do.”

The four got up and pressed deeper into the wilderness—Zhai Bang supporting Wang Sheng, Zhu Lan close behind, and Qin Shi erasing their tracks. It might not help, but even the slightest chance to throw off the enemy was worth it.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat!

Zhu Lan ducked behind a rock as bullets ricocheted off the stone. Qin Shi was in a similar predicament. Wang Sheng had already fainted, and Zhai Bang was in slightly better shape.

None of them had expected the enemy to track them so effectively. The moment they stopped, they were caught. Wang Sheng was hit again, and Qin Shi was grazed by a bullet—two more wounded.

Now, the four huddled on a mountain slope, forced to retreat under heavy fire.

Gritting his teeth, Zhu Lan could hardly feel his legs—he’d twisted his ankle climbing and nearly cried out but forced himself to endure. He now regretted his earlier decisions, questioning if he’d been too careless.

Chased relentlessly, Zhu Lan had no chance to manifest weapons. Even if he could, the source of the weapons, the circumstances of their appearance, and the trustworthiness of his companions—especially Zhai Bang, a government man—were all problematic. More importantly, he feared who was behind their pursuit. If it was just a criminal group, that was one thing; but if it was a state operation, any miraculous abilities would bring endless trouble. Abroad, escape might be possible, but if the threat came from their own country, even returning home might not ensure safety.

China produced many outstanding individuals, but when it came to politics, internal strife was the true expertise. Throughout history, loyal ministers and martyrs often died, not at the hands of enemies, but from betrayal by their own side. The art of backstabbing was in China’s very marrow.

“We can’t hold out without weapons!” Qin Shi peeked out, seeing a dozen enemies fanning out up the slope. He spoke in despair.

Boom!

A grenade cut him off.

Zhu Lan spat out dust, fury on his face. After being hunted for more than ten kilometers, his patience had finally snapped.

“We have to split up. If