Chapter 972 - 908: Pressing Forward Step by Step

The ambulance siren was particularly piercing in the night of Alexandria Port.

Song Heping looked at the flickering lights of the port in the distance through the car window, his fingers unconsciously tapping the assault rifle resting on his legs.

"Ten more minutes to pier No. 7," Utekin's voice came from the driver's seat, "The Artemis cargo ship should already be waiting there."

Jiang Feng looked up at the words: "Are you sure the ship is reliable? Has none of your GRU people infiltrated?"

"The ship's captain is Syrian, owes me his life," Utekin chuckled coldly, "If he dares to pull any tricks, I'll throw him into the Mediterranean to feed the fish."

Song Heping didn't participate in the conversation, his attention was drawn to a black car that had been tailing them in the rearview mirror.

The car kept a perfect distance, neither losing them nor drawing too much attention.

"We're being watched."

Song Heping suddenly spoke, and the atmosphere in the carriage instantly tightened.

Utekin glanced at the rearview mirror, cursed, "The GRU bastards really haunt you like spirits."

Jiang Feng teased: "You seemed to be part of GRU before too."

"Let me drive."

Song Heping unfastened his seatbelt and squeezed through the gap between the passenger and driver's seats. Utekin did not object, and the two completed the position switch at high speed.

Song Heping floored the accelerator, the ambulance engine let out a painful roar, and the speedometer needle quickly shifted to the right.

He sharply turned the steering wheel, the ambulance made a sudden turn into a narrow alley, tires screeching against the ground.

"Everyone, hold on tight!"

Song Heping warned, while drawing a pistol from his waist and rolling down the car window with one hand.

The black car rushed into the alley hot on their heels.

Song Heping didn't hesitate, raising his hand for three shots.

The first bullet shattered the opponent's front windshield, the second hit the driver's shoulder, and the third precisely hit the right front tire.

The car went out of control, crashing into a pile of cargo boxes by the roadside with a huge bang.

"Nice shot!" Jiang Feng couldn't help but cheer.

Song Heping did not relax his vigilance: "They will have reinforcements soon. Utekin, call the captain and tell him to prepare to set sail immediately."

As pier No. 7 came into view, Song Heping turned off the siren and lights, and the ambulance glided into the dock area like a ghost.

A rust-covered cargo ship was docked at the outermost berth, the letters "Artemis" on the hull faintly visible under the dim light.

"That's the one," Utekin pointed to the cargo ship, "The rear deck has a loading ramp, we can drive directly onto it."

Song Heping scanned the pier to confirm there was no ambush, then drove the ambulance toward the cargo ship.

At the stern, a bearded middle-aged man was standing at the loading ramp, anxiously waving for them to hurry onto the ship.

As the ambulance rushed onto the ramp, Song Heping heard sirens approaching from afar, taking one last glance at the rearview mirror as several black SUVs sped toward the dock.

"Set sail! Set sail immediately!" Utekin jumped out of the car and yelled at the captain.

The cargo ship's engine roared, and the vessel began to move slowly.

Song Heping stood on the deck, watching as the black SUVs screeched to a halt on the dock, several men in black jumping out, but it was too late—the Artemis had already left the shore, gradually picking up speed toward the depths of the Mediterranean.

"Are we safe now?" Jiang Feng asked, with uncertainty in his voice.

Song Heping shook his head: "We won't be safe until we reach Siria."

The captain came over, handing each of them a dirty towel: "There's food and water in the cargo hold below, along with a few simple beds. The journey will take two days, my ship's facilities aren't as luxurious as a cruise, so you'll have to make do."

Song Heping took the towel, wiped his face, and studied the Syrian man: "Do you have other crew members on board?"

"There are nine more," the captain answered, "Don't be fooled by my ship's shabby look, the crew is all my old mates, trustworthy."

"Hope so," Song Heping said meaningfully, "Otherwise, the Mediterranean will have a few more floating corpses."

That night, Song Heping hardly slept, making rounds to check every corner of the cargo ship, ensuring nothing suspicious.

He had to remain cautious.

Before reaching the open waters of Siria, no one was safe.

Not to mention Zhaoyi Valley, even if he leaked the intelligence to organizations like the CIA, he would be in danger himself.

He thought of Simon at this moment.

That guy must be basking in the spring breeze now, wondering when he'll become the deputy director.

It seems I should give him a message when I get a chance, to remind him not to get too carried away, that I still have the evidence in my hands.

The next evening, as the sunset stained the Mediterranean blood-red.

Everything went smoothly over the past twenty hours, without encountering any trouble.

Song Heping stood at the stern, gazing toward the northeast.

That's where Siria is.

Also a land of war.

The world's attention has recently been focused here.

But no one cares about the lives of ordinary people on that land.

They only see geopolitics and interests.

"What are you thinking about?"

Utekin came over, handing him a bottle of vodka.

Song Heping took the bottle, took a big swig, the fiery sensation burning down his throat to his stomach: "Look, the sunset on the sea is beautiful."

The sunset dyed the Mediterranean a shade of blood red, casting a golden-red glow on the "Artemis" deck.

Song Heping leaned against the rusty railing, the vodka bottle in his hand reflecting the afterglow of the sunset.

"If the cook wasn't in the mercenary business, perhaps he'd be a big catering business boss," Song Heping's eyes followed a seagull in the distance, "If you weren't in this line, what might you have done?"

Utekin was startled for a moment, clearly not expecting Song Heping to ask such a question.

He took a big swig from the bottle, his Adam's apple rolling, "My father is a physics professor at Moscow University."

He gazed into the distance, his voice low, "Following the normal trajectory, I should be fiddling with a particle accelerator in some laboratory now."

Song Heping chuckled: "It's hard to imagine you in a white lab coat."

"What about you?" Utekin retorted, "After retiring from China's Special Forces, you should have had many choices."

Song Heping was silent for a moment, the sea breeze ruffling his short hair: "If I hadn't joined the army, I'd probably be facing the loess and back to the sky every day in my hometown, then marry a local girl, have a child, and live with my wife and child beside a warm stove."

His fingers unconsciously caressed the pistol at his waist.

"Sometimes I still wake up in the middle of the night smelling the scent of tea."

They lapsed into silence, with only the sound of waves hitting the hull.

"People like us...," Utekin suddenly spoke, his tone deepened, "Are destined never to go back, right?"

Song Heping didn't immediately respond.

He watched the sunset slowly sink behind the horizon, the blood-red glow reminding him of the time when he and Ah Guan went on a delivery run and encountered an IED attack.

It was also then that he met the cook by chance, and it was then that he became a mercenary as a last resort.

Everything seemed like it was yesterday.

Yet everything also seemed so far away.

"Maybe," he finally said softly, "There's too much blood on our hands, even if we go back, it can't be washed clean."

Utekin suddenly laughed, the smile carrying a hint of bitterness: "You know? I was most afraid of the dark when I was a kid. Now I'm used to killing in the dark."

"I was afraid of heights as a kid," Song Heping responded, "Now I can fire a gun while rappelling from a helicopter."

The two exchanged a smile, a mutual understanding only those who have faced life and death could comprehend.

"Seriously," Utekin's expression suddenly became serious, "What do you plan to do after reaching Siria? Zhaoyi Valley won't let you off easily."

Song Heping's gaze turned sharp: "Too many people want me dead."

Then he couldn't help but laugh, "But so far, not a single one has succeeded."

A sudden rush of footsteps interrupted their conversation.

Jiang Feng hurried over: "The captain said we're two hours away from docking at Latakia Port. But we received a warning over the radio that the port's defenses have suddenly strengthened, and there's been an appearance of a large number of Russian Marine Corps."

Utekin frowned: "Zhaoyi Valley has begun to act."