Chapter 1922 - 1416: Gate of Hell

12:15:47 AM.

The sound of mortar shells piercing the night sky is distinctive.

First comes a sharp "whiz," then the pitch gradually rises, followed by a brief silence, then...

Bang—

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!"

The first salvo from six 2B11 "Sani" 120mm mortars precisely covered the convoy's midsection.

The shells were preset to air-burst mode, exploding five meters above the ground, raining thousands of preformed fragments down like death.

The mercenaries' freshly established defenses crumbled in an instant.

The thick fog was illuminated by the explosions' flames.

A soldier was thrown into the air by the shockwave, a machine gunner had half his skull sheared off by fragments, a medic attempted to crawl toward the wounded but was engulfed by the second wave of shelling.

"Machine gun team, open fire!" Abbas's command was succinct and chilling.

Up high, twenty-eight heavy machine guns roared simultaneously.

12.7mm bullets wove a web of death at a rate of 550 rounds per minute.

Armor-piercing incendiary rounds easily tore through the armor of the side of an armored vehicle, destroying the bodies and equipment hidden behind it.

Carlson crawled out from the wreckage of a flipped armored vehicle, his left arm pierced by a piece of hot metal shrapnel.

He tore off his sleeve for a makeshift bandage, grabbed the radio that had fallen to the ground: "Buckda Base! Buckda Base! We are encountering a large-scale ambush in Amadiye Canyon! The opponent has heavy mortars and heavy machine guns! Coordinates—"

12:16:11 AM.

A 7.62×54mmR sniper bullet shot out from the mountain wall three hundred meters away, slicing through the fog and accurately hitting Carlson's head.

The bullet entered above the right eye, tearing open a fist-sized exit at the back of the head.

This former Seal Commander's body stiffened for a second, then fell like a puppet with cut strings.

The radio slipped from his loosening hand, with inquiries from the base still coming through: "Carlson? Repeat your coordinates! Carlson!"

Less than a minute after the ambush began, eight armored vehicles from the escort convoy were already five completely destroyed, all four armed pickups were scrapped, and one of the two tankers was hit by a rocket, with burning fuel flowing along the road to create a wall of fire.

But the mercenaries were elite after all.

The survivors quickly organized effective resistance.

A six-man team occupied a large roadside boulder, constructing a solid firing position with two M249 machine guns and four M4 carbines.

Another team climbed to the top of an undamaged trailer, using an AT4 rocket launcher to counterattack the machine gun positions on the mountain wall.

"Group B suppress the left mountain wall! Group C break through towards the canyon!"

A sergeant took over command, shouting. He was a former Ranger named Davis.

Three rockets trailed tails of fire flying toward the mountain wall, one of which hit a machine gun nest.

Amidst the explosion's firelight, a heavy machine gun and its operator were blasted away.

Abbas saw this scene through the binoculars.

"Alpha 3, Alpha 4, clear the rocket launcher team at 9 o'clock direction. Beta 2, Beta 3, block the canyon direction."

The orders were swiftly executed.

Four RPG-7 rockets almost simultaneously flew toward the trailer top, the explosion wiping away the mercenary team and their rocket launchers together.

At the same time, sharpshooters hiding at the canyon rim began precisely taking out anyone attempting to break through south.

At 12:18:30 AM, the second wave of attacks began.

The soldiers of the Tenth Mountain Division began rappelling down from the sides of the wall.

They used black static ropes, descending at high speed.

The first batch of thirty landed, immediately spreading out in groups of three.

Each group included a machine gunner, a rifleman, and a grenadier, forming a perfect close combat unit.

They attacked from the convoy's flank and rear, using hand grenades to clear a path and automatic rifles to clean up remaining enemies.

The battle finally entered its most brutal stage.

Beside an armored vehicle wreckage, a nearly two-meter-tall mercenary stabbed an Illigo soldier's throat with a dagger,

but before he could retrieve the knife, another soldier smashed his temple with a rifle butt.

Under a trailer, two wounded mercenaries attempted to surrender but were dragged out and executed by Illigo warriors.

These warriors from Northwest Illinois villages had a profound hatred towards Americans because their villages were mistakenly bombed by US airstrikes.

"Do not harm the transport vehicles!" Abbas's voice repeated over the radio: "Repeat, protect the transport vehicles! Concentrate firepower on eliminating living forces!"

His soldiers strictly executed the orders.

Any mercenary attempting to approach the transport vehicles would be prioritized for shooting, and any crossfire potentially threatening the transport vehicles would be avoided as much as possible.

The soldiers of Kurdish's Ninth Brigade pushed over from the north side.

They didn't have the precise tactical formation like the Tenth Division, but they were more familiar with this terrain, moving with greater agility.

These warriors grew up in the mountains, able to run on nearly vertical cliffs, able to judge enemy positions in darkness by sound.

They used outdated AKM rifles, but each bullet seemed to have eyes.

A Kurdish sniper crouched behind a rock, using an SVD rifle with a PSO-1 sight, consecutively killing four mercenaries attempting to organize a counterattack.

With every shot, he changed position, moving like a ghost in the mist.

12:25 a.m., the battle was basically over.

The highway was littered with burning vehicle wreckage, bodies, and scattered equipment.

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, fuel, and the burning of flesh, so dense it seemed you could cut it with a knife.

The cries of the wounded rose and fell, some calling for help in English, some praying in Arabic, and others simply screaming incoherently.

A few mercenaries raised their hands in surrender, brutally pushed to the ground, their hands tied behind them with plastic handcuffs.

Abbas walked down from the command post, passing the still burning armored vehicles, the corpses, and the captives kneeling on the ground trembling.

He walked up to the first heavy trailer.

The trailer was basically intact, only the cab had been riddled with bullets, the driver dead in the seat, head tilted to one side, eyes still open.

Abbas used a dagger to slice open the waterproof canvas.

The thick canvas tore with a "shhh," revealing the cargo inside.

Crates of weapons marked with US Army serial numbers came into view.

"Report to the command center."

Suppressing the excitement in his voice, Abbas began to call: "Calling headquarters, ambush successful. Escort forces have been eliminated, about one hundred eighty killed, seventy-two captured, our casualties are thirty-seven. All transport equipment undamaged. Repeat, all transport vehicles undamaged."

The radio responded with brief silence, then Samir replied: "Received. Well done. Clean up the battlefield, prepare to withdraw. US Army drones are likely heading to your area, advise completing evacuation within half an hour."

Abbas checked his watch.

12:42 a.m.

"Attention all units, start the cleanup process. Engineers clear unexploded ordnance, medics treat the wounded, transport company prepare to receive vehicles. We have only 30 minutes, act quickly!"

Four thousand men emerged from hiding, like a busy swarm of ants.

Engineers cautiously checked under each corpse for trap mines.

Medics classified the wounded, prioritizing severe cases for transport in seized Hummer vehicles.

Drivers from the transport company climbed into trailer cabs, attempting to start the engines.

All vehicles could start normally.

1:15 a.m., evacuation began.

The seized convoy regrouped, driven by Illigo soldiers, slowly heading south.

The soldiers of the Tenth Division followed on foot, while Kurdish warriors escorted some captives into the depths of the northern canyon.

Abbas sat in the passenger seat of a Hummer, taking one last look at the battlefield.

In the canyon, burning vehicles like giant torches dyed the mist a strange orange-red.

"Let's go."

Abbas said to the driver.

The convoy entered the thick fog, disappearing at the end of the winding mountain road.

Behind them, Amadiye Canyon returned to silence.

The fog grew thicker, eventually covering all traces, as if nothing had happened that night.

1:47 a.m., Samir received Abbas's full report at the Mosul Command Center.

"Confirm results: 180 mercenaries killed, 72 captured. Our losses are 37, seized all 50 transport vehicles and their cargo, the inventory has been transmitted."

Samir muttered the words from the report, his breathing becoming rapid as he watched the spoils inventory scroll on the screen.

He turned to Song Heping: "Boss... these pieces of equipment are too sensitive..."

Song Heping's face showed little joy, as he stared at the inventory of sensitive equipment: "Spring Blade drones, Stinger missiles... these pieces of equipment are too hot to handle. They must be dealt with immediately, can't stay in Illigo."

"What do you mean?"

"As planned, transport separately." Song Heping quickly decided: "Sensitive equipment to Hulmatu, ordinary equipment stays in Mosul."

"How do you plan to handle the hot items?" Samir asked.

"Spring Blade and Crow drones..." Song Heping pondered for a moment and said: "I'll arrange a channel to ship them to Eastern Europe. There's a Ukrainian buyer who's been wanting these things, their relations with Russians have been tense these years, willing to pay a high price."

Samir nodded: "The Amadiye ambush will spread across Illigo by tomorrow, we must prepare an explanation."

"Say the remnants of 1515 ambushed an 'unknown armed convoy'."

Song Heping had already prepared.

"The Tenth Division 'just happened' to be nearby on maneuvers, arrived in time to defeat the terrorists, seizing a large stockpile of weapons. As for why these weapons are identical to US equipment... let the Americans explain it themselves."

The two exchanged smiles.

Just then, the encrypted communication channel sounded, it was Abu You calling.

"Boss, we found a satellite phone on the convoy commander's body. The last call record was to a Baghdad number, two minutes before the attack."

Song Heping's eyes narrowed: "What's the number?"

Bashir reported a series of numbers.

Song Heping quickly checked his own phone.

Then he smiled.

It was Major Walker's satellite phone number.

"Looks like he received a warning." Song Heping slowly said, "But it was too late."

Samir asked, "What will Walker do now?"

"He will be furious, then panicked." Song Heping analyzed: "Hundreds of millions of dollars worth of equipment lost, he cannot account to the buyer, nor to the backer. I guess he is doing two things now: blocking the news, and looking for a scapegoat."

"Will we become targets?"

"No." Song Heping shook his head: "Tomorrow I'll return to Baghdad, I'll personally tell him tonight we intercepted a batch of smuggled weapons, as for the rest, let him explain it himself."