The middle-aged man is called Lao Yu. It's his nickname, to be exact. Everyone has long been accustomed to calling him Lao Yu or calling him "Touer", and over time, almost no one remembers his real name.

Long Yun respects and hates Lao Yu. This weird uncle is a strange teammate who can trick you into jumping into a fire pit in order to achieve his goal, and then be able to block bullets for himself at critical moments.

If it weren't for the old fish's clever tongue and some coercion and temptation, he would not have embarked on the black road of mercenaries in a daze, and he would have returned to China a long time ago, found a stable job, soaked a girlfriend with long hair and waist, and quietly became an ordinary citizen with a wife and children hot kang.

Grievances and grievances, but the old fish has a life-saving grace for Long Yun.

On a mission in Zimbabwe in 2000, a rebel soldier fired a black gun at Long Yun less than 10 meters behind him. Fortunately, Lao Yu wore Kevlar body armor that day, plus the shoddy 7 made by the African workshop factory. The quality of the 62 caliber bullet was not high, and the Pugang bullet bit on the bulletproof plate, and the huge impact force only broke one of the old fish's ribs.

The brief coma caused by the huge impact made Long Yun mistakenly think that the old fish had fallen into glory, and in a fit of rage, he hit the rebel with an entire box of bullets, shooting the opponent into a pile of rotten meat.

The relieved old fish grinned and shouted pain while patting Long Yun's shoulder heartlessly and jokingly: "I blocked a bullet for you, can't you shed two tears for me?" Then he shook his head exaggeratedly, looking disappointed.

This made Long Yun cry and laugh, if it weren't for the fact that the old fish was injured, he would have punched him in the stomach earlier.

At this time, the old fish didn't want to raise the bar with Long Yun, and now was not the time to raise the bar. He took out a waterproof map from his tactical vest, spread it on the ground, glanced at the terrain, touched his chin and said: "There is only one town in Bocheng Town within a radius of one hundred kilometers, and Bocheng is a notoriously poor mining area, only Kebby, the fat man, mines here alone, since the forward detachment has been found in Tovama Village, it is obvious that the rebels are coming at us, even if we don't provoke them, I'm afraid we will have to find them sooner or later." The priority is to figure out why the rebels are here, Diamonds? Definitely not! There is also no oil here...... I think it's better to kill them, and by the way, catch them alive and torture them to see what their purpose is here. ”

Everyone agreed with the old fish's opinion, and nodded frequently after listening.

Lao Yu put away the map, looked at all the team members, and ordered: "We have few people, we will carry out a surprise attack later, everyone put on the silencer." ”

Everyone took off their weapons one after another, in addition to the M4A1 on their bodies, they were also equipped with an AK47 automatic rifle, the reason why they were so matched was because of the harsh climate in Africa, the stability of AK is incomparable to other guns, and in Africa, AK's 7. 62 caliber ammunition is also the easiest to get refilled.

Everyone loaded their rifles and pistols with mufflers, exchanged glances with each other, and ran towards the crosshairs.

Outside the entrance of the village, the reticle gently adjusts the disc on the barrel of the telespectacle to adjust the focus to the sharpest point.

The electronic readings in the sight glass show a distance of 503 m, a right wind, and a wind speed of 6 m/s.

The crosshair subconsciously reached out and touched the trigger, as a sniper, as soon as the surrounding environmental parameters entered the brain, the ruler and the amount of correction would be calculated immediately. At only 500 meters, the crosshair knew he had 100% certainty that he would be able to shoot his target in the head and take out any rebel soldier who entered his sniper scope.

Sporadic gunfire and screams continued to be heard in the direction of the village, and the crosshair saw through the telescope that several villagers were being dragged to the clearing by the rebels, and a vicious officer brandished a machete and spoke the local language of Sierra Leone.

Several soldiers set up an elderly villager like a wolf and tied his limbs to two pillars in the open space like an animal, while several other villagers had a premonition that the situation was not good, and trembled with fear, and some even fell to their knees with a puff and kept kowtowing and begging.

The rebel officer seemed to be enjoying the scene, and the screams and wails of the villagers were a great boost to his adrenaline hormones, which was more refreshing than smoking psychedelics.

Holding the lives and deaths of others in your hands is a thrill that can only be brought by power.

The rebel officer waved his ****** and pointed at the bound villager, and began to ask questions, and the bound villager kept shaking his head and crying, clearly on the verge of collapse.

The leader seemed to lose his patience, and before the man could say a few words, his hand fell, and a column of blood splattered, and a right hand fell to the muddy ground.

The villager who had his right hand cut off screamed in a terrible scream, but all three of his limbs were so tied that he could not move, and could only drip blood from his wrist like a gurgling stream. He struggled, lowered his head, raised his hand, and licked the wound with his tongue like an animal.

The rebel officer was still unsatisfied, and brandished his bloody knife again, and raised the man's chin with a sharp blade, and asked something viciously.

The kidnapped villagers were already so frightened that they could only shake their heads and cry out.

The knife was swung again, this time with the left foot.

The sharp jungle machete cut off one of the villager's left legs like a piece of pork.

In this way, only one left hand and one right foot were tied, and the person lost his balance, like a piece of bacon hanging under the eaves, dangling.

In the observation mirror, the villagers' faces distorted and deformed by the severe pain were extremely clear, and the crosshair couldn't help but frown.

He began to mingle with the South African gang at the age of thirteen, and at the age of seventeen, he lurked alone in the suburban jungle for six days, sniping a drug lord with a sniper rifle, and since then he has become famous and become the top killer on the road.

At the age of twenty-five, the crosshairs were sent to serve as a personal bodyguard for the mistress of the underworld boss, but he was intimate and protective to the bed.

The boss who learned of the crosshair's affair became a fried lion, and issued a kill order on the spot, offering a reward of 500,000 US dollars to take the lifeblood of the crosshairs to make whiskey.

The crosshairs, who didn't want to be eunuchs, were forced to die, and a few months later, they infiltrated the South African Universal Strategic Resources Company and became Lao Yu's subordinate by mistake.

As a mercenary who was born as an underworld killer, he has long been accustomed to a life of licking blood with knives, and killing people is just commonplace, but the crosshairs are still extremely disgusted by this kind of abuse of unarmed civilians for fun.

As the so-called thief has a way. In his opinion, to be a thief, you must have the bottom line of being a thief, and you must have the rules of being a soldier. Serious gang members are ashamed to massacre civilians, let alone soldiers.

The style of the Sierra Leone rebels is familiar to all. The most famous mantra of Kosan, the rebel leader of the largest coalition front, is: "Long sleeves or short sleeves?" "It seems to be a humorous sentence, but in fact, there is a hidden murderous intention, if you want long sleeves, then cut off from the wrist, if you want short sleeves, cut off the arm from the elbow.

This brutal style has made the people of Sierra Leone almost pee their pants when they hear the name of the Kosan Alliance Front. The crosshairs knew that the rebels' wrist chops were just a deterrent, but in fact they were still for diamonds, or for labor or forced conscripts.

Gunfire rang out again from Towama Village, and several villagers rushed out of their houses and fled outside the village, and before they had run more than a dozen meters, they were smashed into a sieve by AK bullets.

The situation seems strange, it seems that the rebels have no intention of leaving them alive, and the gunfire in the village is getting more and more intense, and each shot means that a life may be lost.

A brutal slaughter is underway.

The crosshair couldn't help but raise his MSG90 sniper rifle, and the crosshair in the scope slowly lassoed the rebel officer's head, and he gently imitated the shooting and spit out a lip sound - pop!

In the end, he reluctantly let go of his fingers, and before his teammates arrived, he couldn't startle the snake anyway.

Suddenly, a bird's cry came from under the tree, and the crosshair's body moved slightly, and his nerves suddenly tensed.