Chapter Forty-Eight: Stealth

Ezmu believed he must be the unluckiest terrorist in the world—bar none.

Ever since he was summoned to this hastily planned hijacking, misfortune had dogged him relentlessly. First, he was discovered by that devilish instructor with a gentleman’s face, forced to alter the original plan, and ended up crashing the plane onto this desolate island where not even birds bothered to visit. Then came the sudden hurricane and torrential rain, leaving the entire island in chaos. By the true god above, the scene was even more terrifying than the black storms of the desert. The promised million shadow dollars from the leader had yet to materialize, but the wind had feasted plenty.

Worst of all, that damned Mai Mai Jiang had the nerve to order him—of all people—to climb this wretched tree in the dead of night and stand sentry! Meanwhile, Mai Mai Jiang himself drank fiery, throat-burning, stomach-warming date alcohol in the sheltered cabin. May the true god punish Mai Mai Jiang!

Oh, true god, this tree was so tall, and the platform was hastily assembled—who knew if it was stable! No elevator, either, so he had to climb up, step by painful step!

Exhausted from the climb, Ezmu had just sat down, lit a cigarette to ease his fatigue, barely taken a few puffs before a gust of wind snatched away the painstakingly rolled “Hamo cigarette.” He turned his head to retrieve it, only to see something—no, someone—leaping towards him from mid-air. He had just opened his mouth, not yet able to shout, when the stranger’s hand made a swift motion—

But Ezmu would never have the chance to describe his final thoughts. In the next instant after seeing the hand move, his vision blurred, and a hard, razor-sharp object pierced his brow, chilling his brain, so sudden he felt no pain at all.

“A military knife, he’s a special forces—”

He hadn’t even finished the word “soldier” before his consciousness was severed, plunging into boundless darkness.

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When Lei Dong hurled his modified combat knife, he already recognized the target’s identity—and knew his fate.

Under Lei Dong’s immense strength, the blade flew like a meteor, gleaming with a ghostly gray light, slicing through Ezmu’s brow as effortlessly as through soft tofu, cracking his skull and burying itself deep in his head.

In less than a tenth of a second, the powerful strike utterly destroyed Ezmu’s central nervous system, robbing him of all control over his body. As he collapsed backward, his body simultaneously released its bowels, covering him in filth and exuding a foul stench.

Lei Dong hooked his legs around the tree, landing with a soft “crack.” Using that brief moment of momentum, he curled his body, rolled onto the three-meter-wide platform, and smoothly drew the combat knife from Ezmu’s brow, letting blood spurt under internal pressure, spraying skyward. Into his headset, he whispered, “Cleared.”

Without waiting for Huang Xiwen’s reply, Lei Dong reached out and found his trusty Type 21 large-caliber sniper rifle, which had been with him nearly four years, already set up on the platform. He peeled off the waterproof cover, pressed his eye to the infrared scope, and carefully surveyed the enemy.

A minute later, Lei Dong confirmed through the radio, “Safe!”

“Good!” Huang Xiwen ordered quietly, “Numbers One and Six, provide air cover. Numbers Two, Three, and Four, land!”

“Understood!” Four figures swooped down from the sky, diving into the tall grass.

From Lei Dong’s vantage, Song Jingang landed and immediately knelt on one knee, taking aim. Soon after, Lang Tianyu, Bei Shiliang, and Huang Xiwen landed, shed their parachute gear, tidied up, and called out, “All clear!” They took up defensive positions, covering Song Jingang as he secured his equipment.

Huang Xiwen gestured, and Lang Tianyu vanished into the grass, rifle in hand. Two minutes later, his voice came through the headset: “Number Four in position!”

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Lei Dong searched carefully and spotted Lang Tianyu about two hundred meters off the squad’s right flank, half-crouched in thick grass, his small-caliber semi-automatic sniper rifle camouflaged on a fallen log. From above, it was almost impossible to spot him.

“This old gun just gets sharper with age!” Lei Dong muttered admiringly. After years of training, Lei Dong had managed to claim the squad’s sniper role, but Lang Tianyu, a veteran in sniper tactics, was clearly every bit his equal.

Now, with Lang Tianyu on the right and Lei Dong controlling the high ground on the left, they formed a pincer, locking down both ends of the battlefield. Whether it was field control or covering teammates, their formation was nearly flawless.

In the grass, Huang Xiwen gestured again. Bei Shiliang crawled beside him, hands moving swiftly. In less than a minute, a fifteen-kilogram tactical reconnaissance radar and a five-kilogram long-range thermal imaging sensor were set up.

With a soft hum, the tactical radar activated. Bei Shiliang peered through the display eyepiece, made some adjustments, and called, “Ready!” giving up his spot.

Huang Xiwen, ignoring the muddy grass beneath him, lay flat, pulled a waterproofed laptop from his pack, fingers flying across the keyboard. He brought up a structural diagram of the Bayan 777-200 passenger jet, connected the tactical radar and thermal sensor to the data port, and began synthesizing and calibrating.

Minutes later, Huang Xiwen exhaled, sending the composite image to every team member’s “Polaris” device.

As a wide-body airliner, the Bayan 777-200 cabin was divided into three sections: first class, business class, and economy. On the image, the first two sections were entirely blue, while the rear economy cabin glowed bright red.

This meant only the economy section showed signs of life—passengers were alive, concentrated and detained in economy!

Within the red area, three points had been specially marked in yellow by Huang Xiwen—these were three figures standing and moving about as shown by the thermal sensor.

Clearly, these three must be the terrorists who planned and carried out the hijacking.

Yet according to Jing’s analysis, there should be at least seven involved: Jemms Sam from the Minia Federation, Chen Weizhe from the island separatists, and five from the East Wu group.

Now Ezmu was dead at Lei Dong’s hand, the image showed only three; where were the other three?

“Number Five!” Huang Xiwen called in a low voice.

Lei Dong understood this was his cue as the “human radar.” From the moment he’d established his sniper position, he’d quietly spread his spiritual sense, casting it like a net over the Bayan 777-200.

It was tough to penetrate the plane’s thick hull, but Lei Dong focused intently, trying to sense and distinguish.

Inside the plane—cockpit, first class, business class—no signs of activity. Only in economy could live humans be sensed, most staying put, while three moved about: one in the galley at the rear, one in the central cabin area, and one near the economy door.

Lei Dong frowned, scanning again. Suddenly, near the front of the cabin, by the door to the second lavatory, someone stirred. A “click” sounded—the flash of a lighter, a flicker of flame, then darkness. The person inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly—smoking!

A fourth!

Yet after more than fifteen minutes of further searching, no other unusual movements appeared.

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“Report: four confirmed! Others unlocatable!” Time was slipping away, and with dawn approaching, the squad would need to cross nearly four kilometers of grassland before action could begin. Lei Dong reported reluctantly.

“Keep observing!” Huang Xiwen deliberated, then commanded decisively, “Cloud Vanguard, Lang Tianyu rear guard, twenty-five meters apart, staggered formation, advance to three hundred meters from target, reconnoiter!”

“Understood!”

The team moved forward, crouching low in the grass. Bei Shiliang slung his assault rifle and cradled the long-range thermal imager, scanning as they advanced.

The grassland, soaked and slick after the hurricane, forced the team to tread lightly, moving like stealthy cats. Fortunately, the island, once a tourist hotspot, had decent infrastructure—especially this area near the old airport. Though two decades of erosion had left some mud, the terrain wasn’t too treacherous, so their progress was steady.

The only caution was to avoid making noise and alerting the enemy. Here, the storm’s aftermath proved helpful—moving through wet grass was quieter than dry, and the lingering sea wind and pattering rain masked their passage.

Even so, Lei Dong noticed their pace slowed significantly about a thousand meters from the plane.

It was night, after all. Aside from the weakening wind and rain, and the occasional call of seabirds, the island was otherwise silent. To avoid detection, they had to be extra cautious.

For the last five hundred meters, the team advanced almost step by step, ears alert, moving with utmost care.

At three hundred meters from the target, Huang Xiwen signaled twice on his throat mic.

Hearing the static through their headsets, the team halted. Bei Shiliang quietly set up the tactical radar and thermal imager again, searching through the display.

After a long while, Bei Shiliang shook his head in disappointment at Huang Xiwen, indicating nothing unusual.

“Numbers One and Six, advance covertly, recon close to target! Others, hold position!”

“Understood!”

ps: Hamo cigarette—smoked only once, choked my throat for half an hour! Date liquor, a legendary spirit from the Middle East, made from dates or potatoes, generally over seventy percent alcohol—potent, but nothing compared to homemade orange liquor from a certain Greek restaurant, claimed to be ninety percent! Sweet and delicious, but the kick… That was my first Greek meal, but now I remember nothing of what I actually ate.

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