The intense smell of blood was suffocating, the sand beneath his feet had already been soaked in layers of blood, turning viscous and warm, each step felt like a heart-wrenching suction.
Song Heping swept the corner of his eye over the tactical watch on his wrist.
The cold watch glass was covered with a mixture of sweat and sand grime, yet the hands were still clear: merely fifteen minutes had passed.
Fifteen minutes!
Fifty soldiers on the first line of defense, like beans thrown into a grinder, over thirty had already been swallowed!
The remaining ones, all injured, ammo more than half consumed, their eyes filled not just with bloodshot, but more with a numbness and lifelessness near the brink of collapse.
If they continued fighting, there wouldn't even be a chance to retreat. Everyone would be pinned here, eventually overwhelmed and crushed by the enemy's follow-up forces.
"Wrench! Second line of defense, prepare for support!"
