Chapter One Hundred and Seven: The Convergence of Winds and Clouds

“The purpose of this operation is to stop the terrorists from slipping into Aksu City and to eliminate all of them in this strike. But there is one point I must state clearly. No one, under any reason, may cross the frontier line in any way. That old rule is not new, but it is the one we must watch most carefully. Above all, everyone come back alive. You’ve suffered enough already. Zhou Qi—if even one person fails to return, I’ll kill you.”

With Wei Boyang’s charge in their ears, the War God Squad set out.

Members of the Sun Umbrella Team were baffled by Wei’s warning that they had suffered too much; several wanted to ask him about it as they rode, but everyone in the War God Squad sat in stony silence, eyes closed, thinking. In this mission, Wei Boyang and the Sun Umbrella Team’s adviser would stay in Urumqi to prevent the terrorists from taking advantage and attacking. These twenty men were going deep, and might even be pushed into a situation where ammunition and supplies ran out. So none in the War God Squad allowed themselves to underestimate anything. Even in rest, they conserved their strength. Even Qin Yang and the others understood this and each found a way to compose himself.

No one knew how long the vehicle had been jolting through rough roads.

By the time the truck finally stopped and they opened their eyes, they had reached a remote lowland. Apart from a lonely building that resembled a small military outpost, there was no sign of human life. Now and then, in the snowbound mountain woods, a wild animal would stir, but sensing this band of men as dangerous prey, it vanished in an instant.

A company commander with the rank of captain stepped out, saluted, and said, “Welcome.”

Zhou Qi drew in a lungful of icy air, muttering inwardly about the hateful weather, then asked, “Where are your men?”

One sharp command to assemble, and more than twenty fully armed armed police and reconnaissance soldiers emerged from the building, each of them broad-shouldered and fierce. Their gear was still a step down from what our men carried, but the moment they saw the unusual weapons on Qin Yang and Cheng Mu, they were filled with fresh confidence.

“We have twenty-four brothers,” captain Shen Haoyun said. “Three are scouting ahead. Let’s talk inside.”

Inside, they set down a rough map, some heating gear, and a few basic devices. After spreading the map across the table, Shen said, “This map was drawn by our people; it is highly accurate. Along the Tarim Riverbank is an extremely harsh zone, and this is also the route this group of terrorists would take. The mountains there are rough, and the cold is severe—through this range there are only a few passable routes.”

“How did you determine their infiltration route?” Qin Yang asked first.

Shen looked at the young man and answered, “Xinjiang’s frontier, with its vast and desolate complexity, gives the enemy ideal conditions for infiltration and unrest. Pinpointing enemy movement is our primary challenge. Laying outside eyes is basic work for us. In this case, there was one source from within the terrorists, and his information was extremely accurate.”

Qin Yang nodded silently.

Zhou Qi studied every contour of the terrain and said, “The enemy will arrive in three hours. Get ready to move out. I’ll assign everyone on the way.”

Because the terrain was complicated, they moved on foot. These men were trained for long marches. In no time on the trail, Zhou Qi arranged the deployment. Qin Yang took the Sun Umbrella sniper Zhou Kehai, Shen Haoyun, and three armed policemen with him. Qin Yang also served as strategic marksman, but his more crucial role was to report enemy hiding positions in real time—like a radar.

Guided by GPS and Shen’s direction, they reached their position quickly. It was a varied rise and dip, perfect for pressing from above. Three figures were already hidden in concealment, watching, and they did not even stand to greet Shen on his arrival.

Qin Yang wasted no time. He brought Zhou Kehai, Shen Haoyun, and three others to his own tactical position.

It was a wind channel, with plenty of trees on both sides.

Zhou Kehai, the Sun Umbrella sniper, rapidly measured its strengths and weaknesses. Even Shen Haoyun could not help but admire the meticulous defensive caution.

“Zhou Kehai, choose the best position yourself,” Qin Yang said. He knew the boy had talent, though he lacked combat seasoning, and had no extra wisdom to offer. “Shen, you and your men give Zhou Kehai the necessary covering fire. These points can form an interlocking angle with him and form excellent defensive geometry.”

Shen and his men took their places.

“I’m going to step into the trees and relieve myself. Don’t call me unless it’s serious,” Qin said, and disappeared into the thicket.

Shen froze for a moment and murmured, “Comrade Zhou, who is this Qin Yang fellow? He doesn’t look like someone who ever had military training.”

“He’s strong—strong beyond anything you can imagine,” Zhou Kehai said as he set up his own station. “Don’t underestimate him. His combat power alone could wipe out our entire eight-man group. He bears the whole battlefield radar burden himself. If we want to survive and finish this cleanly, we follow his orders. I’m saying this with complete certainty: wherever you hide in this area, he will detect you in under ten seconds and silently eliminate you. He’s probably scanning the surroundings now. Don’t disturb him.”

Shen nodded blankly.

No wonder headquarters had such high confidence in this mission—now he understood it wasn’t only the Sun Umbrella Special Action Group. The War God Squad’s reputation weighed far more.

Shen fully understood the importance. This was the first battle of the new year, and it had to be a message to the world: China would respond to any form of terrorism with fatal force. They would defend the border and defend the people at any cost.

This was a test—an important test. Not a display of strength, but proof of unshakable resolve to strike terror.

By then Qin Yang had gone about twenty meters out. He scanned and found no one around, breathed deeply, narrowed his eyes, and then two beams of black light flashed from him. At two meters in front, two robe-clad specters appeared without a sound—black ghosts moving in silence. Their faces were unreadable, their gender impossible to tell, and their bodies seemed almost not of this world.

He passed them the devices and Damascus curved blades. The instant their hands closed on the sabers, the weapons seemed to vanish into nothingness. The wraiths did not linger. Quietly, they slipped out from behind the defensive line. They would circle around to the enemy’s rear and carry out silent kills. These beings had innate concealment, and their skill was beyond belief. In darkness, they could dissolve into it, true phantom assassins.

How did these wraiths become so formidable? Not only through promotion through infernal ranks. They can continuously refine themselves through killing; if they have enough kills, they can rise to second-tier wraiths.

And Qin Yang, through them, could see what lay a thousand meters away.

Back at the line, Zhou Kehai lay prone in the snow and kept his eye on the optic, highly alert to Qin Yang’s movements. In a low voice he said, “Your load feels about ten kilos lighter.”

Qin Yang gave him a slight smirk. “You’re more observant than you look.” He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and drew in a long, calm drag.

“You’re not afraid of being singled out?” Zhou Kehai asked, half-challenged.

“Don’t be so nervous,” Qin replied, exhaling a smoke ring. “Even if the enemy has arrived, they haven’t entered a thousand meters of our defensive ring yet. It’s broad daylight, and the wind is brutal—who’s going to spot and call out your position?”

Shen also lit one. “I’m still nervous,” he admitted.

“Have you killed before?” Qin asked curiously.

“I have,” Shen said. “A few of them. Some of my brothers died at their hands too.”

“That’s normal,” Qin said. “This is revenge time.”

Shen gave a brief laugh.

Qin patted Zhou Kehai’s shoulder. “And you? Have you ever killed anyone?”

“No,” Zhou said quietly. “This is my first real combat action.”

Qin noticed his tension. “You’re excited.”

Heh. “Killing enemies and protecting the country is my greatest dream,” Zhou whispered. “At last, I have the chance.”

Qin smiled. “If you saw a man’s head split open and blood spraying, would that disgust you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen armed police execute people,” Zhou said. “The first time I vomited, but never again afterward.”

“Still, those were not kills by your hand,” Qin smiled.

Then he set up his NTW-20 sniper rifle, brushed away the heavy snow, laid down camouflage netting, checked his optic, and only then settled back to keep smoking.

“Which unit did you serve with before?” Zhou asked. “With your strength, you must have been a star soldier, but we’ve never heard of you.”

Shen nodded as well.

Qin laughed softly. “I was never in the army.”

“What?” everyone blinked, baffled.

“Some special reasons,” he said with a wry smile. “I have never been a soldier, yet I’ve killed more people than all of you together. Of course, in the War God Squad, my count would still be near the bottom.”

“Why have I never heard of the War God Squad? I haven’t even seen these men before,” Shen asked, curiosity plain.

“Me neither,” Zhou added. “Even these men I haven’t seen.”

“Exactly,” Qin said. “It’s normal you don’t know them. This was a temporary unit. They were all former soldiers. If you want to know why none of you have heard the name, ask your instructor when you get back—if he wants to tell you, he will. For now, the enemy is coming. Don’t get distracted.”

He opened his yin-yang sight. In the stretch a thousand meters ahead of him, everything became clear as if cut from glass. Roughly fifty-odd terrorists were advancing with extreme caution. They wore varied clothes, odd mismatches of gear, and carried AK-series rifles or obsolete weapons. After watching a while, Qin opened his radio earpiece and said quietly, “Zhou Qi, come in.”

“Zhou Qi here. Go ahead.”

“Fifty-seven terrorists. They’re armed with AKs, three RPGs, twelve high-explosive rounds, two mortars, shell count unknown. The advance posture suggests this is a forward defensive formation; they have probably detected our activity,” Qin whispered.

The four men beside him gaped. They had not even finished counting the enemy, yet Qin had already relayed all their weapons and ammunition details. Impossible.

“That’s probably their vanguard,” Zhou Qi said quietly. “We’re likely not yet seeing the main force. Attack on my command.”

Qin placed the crossbow beside his sniper rifle, then fixed his eyes through the optic on those terrorists. Zhou Kehai kept his breathing measured. Shen and the other four were already ready; a single order and they would open fire.

When the enemy came within two hundred meters, Zhou Qi shouted, “Attack.”

Qin ignored his sniper rifle and lifted the crossbow. The string thrummed; his second bolt was already nocked as the first was loosed. As the seeming leader of the terrorists dropped, Zhou Kehai squeezed the trigger.

“Boom,” one man carrying a rocket launcher fell at the shot.

At the same moment, fire opened from the other positions. After losing more than ten men, the terrorists panicked and scrambled for cover. Qin intermittently released single bolts from his crossbow, silent and lethal. One man who hid behind a tree was caught in the shoulder by a bolt that had passed clean through branches; he leapt out in pain and was then torn apart by bullets.

“Zhou Qi, reinforcements are arriving—more than seventy,” Qin said, setting down the crossbow as he shifted fully to sniper rifle fire.

“Qin Yang, take out their snipers and commanders. Zhou Qi, engage their gunners. I do not want a single shell landing on our position. We will draw their fire and give you enough room.”