Two days later, Persian Plateau, inside the cave at the secret camp.
The air was filled with the smell of old carpets, dust, and a faint scent of gun oil.
Hunter, covered in dust, pushed the door open and casually threw his heavy tactical backpack into the corner, making a dull "thud" sound.
"Boss!"
After scanning the room, his gaze landed on Song Heping, who was sitting by the table, deep in thought in front of a laptop screen.
"I'm back."
Hunter's voice was slightly hoarse. He walked over to the mini-fridge, took out a bottle of ice water, opened the cap, and gulped down more than half of it.
Song Heping looked up: "You're back? Was it smooth? How about the Violinist and Drummer?"
"Target eliminated, convoy in chaos, three shots, confirmed target vehicle turned into a fireball, Narendra is dead."
Hunter reported concisely, as if talking about something trivial.
