**
---
The nine-vehicle convoy—comprising the two trucks that had arrived an hour and a half ago and the original trucks and pickups in the village—had already gathered in the village center.
Roughly 200 armed Taliban fighters were clambering noisily aboard the vehicles.
If they were allowed to fully board and the convoy began moving out of the village, even if they managed to destroy the lead two vehicles with claymore mines and take out part of the targets, the rest would make it out beyond the village perimeter.
Once the remaining hundred-plus Taliban exited the village and encountered an ambush, chaos would erupt. They'd scatter in all directions.
Long Zhan had only a single machine gun guarding the road—no matter how fast his rate of fire, he couldn't possibly take down a sky full of flying ducks. A large number of Taliban would inevitably break into the forest.
The core of Murphy's team's deployment was to prevent those Taliban fighters from reaching the woods.
They had to pin the Taliban down inside the village, force them to believe that the buildings provided the only viable cover, and that moving into the woods was incredibly dangerous.
Only by forcing this self-preservation mentality on them could they achieve the strategic objective of containment and delay.
Long Zhan, Murphy, and the others knew perfectly well: if these Taliban fighters made it into the forest, they'd be able to use trees and terrain features for cover and approach within 20 meters—maybe even 10 meters—without much difficulty.
At that range, marksmanship no longer guaranteed superiority. It came down to who had more guns and more people.
And when that happened…
With Taliban swarming from all directions, it would turn into a classic case of "wild punches killing the master."
Doesn't matter if I shoot like crap—I've got the numbers, I've got the firepower. I'll spray the whole area. Sooner or later, I'll get lucky with a few rounds.
If I sneak up to within ten meters, I don't care if you're a special operations soldier or a war-hardened commando—you're still going down with one shot.
Not just Long Zhan and his team of five—even if an entire Quick Reaction Force (QRF) platoon of thirty-plus personnel were here, the casualty rate would still be severe.
**"We *must* keep them from leaving the village!"**
That critical reality hit Long Zhan, Murphy, and the others simultaneously like a mental lightning bolt.
**"Assault team ETA is 0300. It's 0210 now. We hold the line for fifty more minutes. That convoy *cannot* be allowed to move out."**
Murphy gave a quick brief over comms and immediately began issuing combat orders.
**"Matt, you're in charge of guiding the missile. Lock the laser on Shah's position. Designator code is srf34y6. There can be absolutely *no* mistake."**
The laser designator beam, being infrared and invisible to the naked eye, wouldn't reveal the target's location.
The aircraft armed with a laser-guided missile could scan for laser signals within a 16-kilometer range, locking onto the encoded signal as it reflected off the target.
Once the missile's seeker head received and matched the signal, the onboard systems would generate control commands, guiding the missile directly to the target.
During this laser guidance process, Shah could very well be moving between buildings in the village. Matt had to ensure constant, accurate tracking with the laser beam.
This meant Matt had to fight a dual battle.
Not only did he need to maintain uninterrupted laser lock on Shah's position, he also had to switch to his SPR sniper rifle and provide precision fire support to the rest of the team.
Additionally, he had to continuously update the team on enemy concentrations inside the village.
This would allow Long Zhan and the others—spread across four sectors—to dynamically adjust their lines of fire and coordinate their covering patterns to avoid being overrun.
Once Matt's critical task was assigned, Murphy issued his broader directive.
**"Long Zhan, Marcus, Dietz—you three are with me. Coordinated fire. Target Shah between the second pickup from the left and that house. Two magazines full-auto. Any objections?"**
The fastest way to stop the Taliban fighters from boarding was to pull them into a firefight.
And when that fight started, it had to be immediate and overwhelming.
The goal was to create the illusion of a large-scale assault force, suppressing the Taliban psychologically—making them too afraid to break out of the village.
**"Copy that. Ready."**
Long Zhan had a direct line of sight to the village exit and could clearly see Shah's side profile.
Dietz chimed in next: **"Roger. No issues on my end."**
**"I don't have visual on Shah. Building's in the way."**
That left Marcus with a problem—his view of Shah was obstructed by a house. No firing angle whatsoever.
Of the four, Marcus was the only one with a sniper rifle, equipped with a high-magnification scope—ideal for taking out a high-value target like Shah.
But no line of sight meant that opportunity was lost.
**"Then shift your target. Take out the lead vehicle's driver once the shooting starts. Single-shot precision. Clear?"** Murphy reassigned Marcus without hesitation.
Precision fire—exactly what Marcus's weapon was built for.
**"Roger that. Understood."**
Once Marcus confirmed he was set, Murphy aligned his holographic sight on Shah—now standing 150 meters away at the doorway speaking with someone—and began the countdown.
**"Five… four… three… two—** *"Fuck!"*
Just as he said "two," Shah abruptly turned and walked inside the building, causing Murphy to curse out loud in frustration.
But the moment had come. There was no turning back.
Murphy adjusted without missing a beat.
**"Change of plans. Change of plans. Select targets. Countdown—three… two… one—fire!"**
With Murphy's command, the calm in Qadakhu Village was shattered.
**"Twee-twee, twee-twee, twee-twee…"**
**"Ratatat-tatatat, ratatat-tatatat…"**
**"Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang…"**
Short, controlled bursts from assault rifles, sustained suppressive fire from light machine guns, and pinpoint shots from sniper rifles—all opened up at once.
In full-fire mode, bullets rained down on the convoy from all directions.
The Shah Tigers, caught bunched together as they boarded the trucks, had no time to react. Several were dropped in the first volley alone.
If Long Zhan's position weren't 70 to 80 meters from the village edge—and another 50-plus meters from the center—the kill count would've been in double digits, easily.
The remaining Taliban in the village panicked. They scattered in terror, looking for any form of cover.
The air filled with chaos: furious shouting, frightened cries, confused questions, commands being yelled—completely replacing the earlier noise of excitement and laughter.
Dozens of armed fighters chambered rounds, screaming in rage and ready to return fire.
But Long Zhan and the others were equipped with suppressors, masking their weapon reports. The confusion was made worse by the mountainous terrain surrounding Qadakhu, which bounced echoes off the rock walls.
The Taliban had no clue where the enemy was—or how many there were.
All they could hear were gunshots echoing across the valley and bullets whistling from every direction, sparking and churning up dust as they struck all over the village.
The wounded who didn't make it to cover—bleeding, writhing, screaming in agony—only intensified the scene's atmosphere of terror and bloodshed.
---