Amidst the flurry of activity in the camp, Samir quietly approached Song Heping and whispered, "Boss! With so many weapons and ammo! It will take at least two or three hours just to load them onto the trucks! But the enemy..."
He suddenly pointed towards the southwest, in the direction from which the 1515 forces were approaching, his face full of worry.
"They're only thirty kilometers away from us! There's not enough time! We can't take everything with us!"
Song Heping's gaze swept over the ammunition boxes and brand-new weapons scattered throughout the camp, reflecting a cold metallic sheen in the sunlight. His eyes did not waver in the slightest.
He knew the urgency, and he knew these new recruits with new guns couldn't withstand the onslaught of three thousand Mad Dogs.
Point A, the predetermined border retreat point, was close to the Persian Border Defense Army, a red line that the 1515 forces dared not cross easily—a singular path to survival.
