In the "Razorback" wind erosion rock area, time lost its meaning, leaving only the roar of guns and the breath of death.
Song Heping crouched behind the jagged dark red sandstone at the forefront of the first defensive line, his shoulder socket firmly against the cold stock of the captured PKM general-purpose machine gun.
Every burst felt like a heavy hammer striking his shoulder blade, making his teeth ache.
Sweat had soaked through his camouflage uniform, sticking unpleasantly to his skin, only to be baked dry by the hot sand, leaving a layer of salt frost. Beads of sweat rolled into the corners of his eyes, bringing a stinging pain, so he had to blink them away forcefully, his gaze never daring to leave the death corridor distorted by the heat waves ahead.
Although this wasn't his first time commanding a large-scale operation.
But it was the most perilous one.
The disparity in force was so great that even Song Heping himself wasn't sure of success.
He too was gambling.
