Long Zhan, relying on the visual intelligence provided by Matt, meticulously set a trap to wipe out all 40 Taliban soldiers in one fell swoop.
This was absolutely insane!
Watching Long Zhan, having summoned the courage of a bear's heart and a leopard's guts, advancing alone so close to the village, everyone's hearts jumped into their throats.
At such close range, if the Taliban spotted him, facing a hailstorm of over a hundred guns, there would be no chance to even run — they'd be turned into a sieve on the spot.
Murphy's squad had never experienced anyone attempting to slaughter 40 enemies solo in such an exaggerated battle.
If it were them, let alone carrying out the mission themselves, they wouldn't even dare to think about it. This was the kind of suicidal recklessness that required more than just courage.
In the tense, oppressive atmosphere, time seemed to slow down unusually.
Calling it a second feeling like a year wouldn't be an exaggeration.
"They're about to launch the attack. Stay alert."
No one knew how much time had passed, how long the silence on the radio had lasted, until Matt's communication suddenly broke it.
The curtain of battle had officially been drawn.
Long Zhan pressed his body low and moved sideways into the nearby shrubbery, doing everything possible to avoid detection, and warned, "Murphy, stay calm. Don't activate the mines until you get my order."
No sooner had Long Zhan finished speaking than Taliban soldiers appeared in his sight.
They came out in small groups of three to five from behind houses. Although they seemed to have no formation or tactics, this was a deliberate dispersed assault.
After Dietz's sudden grenade strike and the brutal slaughter by machine gun on the western attack, Shaikh had learned his lesson this time.
If not for Long Zhan's trap, these 40 Taliban spread within a 30-meter radius would be impossible to suppress with just Murphy's assault rifle.
The result would only be that you shoot here, they advance there; you shoot there, they run from here.
Eventually, the enemy would close in, right under your nose.
Murphy clearly foresaw this outcome. Watching so many Taliban fighters approaching closer and closer, his sweaty palms betrayed his nervousness.
If it weren't for trusting Long Zhan's ambush, he might have already lost control and opened fire.
The large Taliban force coming out initially acted cautiously, expecting the usual fire suppression.
Based on prior reconnaissance, they tried to use trees to avoid Murphy's firing line from afar.
But as they moved deeper into the forest, edging toward the four directions where the Foxes were weakest, they still encountered no attack.
The leading Taliban lieutenant was puzzled. Observing Shaikh inside a nearby house, he found him just as confused.
"Could they have already slipped away?"
That was the only answer they could come up with.
To verify if that was true, the Taliban lieutenant led the large group toward the suspected attack direction from reconnaissance.
Some Taliban soldiers began to spread out left and right, apparently preparing to extend their firing line.
It was impressive that this high-ranking Taliban unit actually used such tactics — spreading the firing line, flanking, and encircling maneuvers.
This tactic would be absolutely correct on open ground, enough to give Murphy's squad a hard time.
Unfortunately...
This time, it was Murphy's squad encircling Shaikh's forces — not the other way around.
This forest wasn't somewhere you could just walk around at will.
The Taliban soldiers trying to flank were quickly picked off by Matt and Dietz.
Long Zhan remained hidden and motionless.
Assigning Matt to defend the west while Dietz covered the east against the Taliban soldiers who strayed was part of Long Zhan's plan.
The goal was to keep these 40 Taliban soldiers "focused" on attacking Murphy.
The plan worked well. As the flanking Taliban were eliminated, the remaining soldiers became more disciplined.
They kept a dispersed formation about 20 to 25 meters apart, slowly advancing toward Murphy's position.
Murphy held his fire; the Taliban did not shoot either.
Both sides were caught in an eerie calm.
But this calm was the eye of the storm, the deceptive quiet before the beast strikes, the hellish path the Taliban soldiers never saw coming.
As this group of Taliban unknowingly stepped into Long Zhan's deathstorm trap...
"Get ready!"
Long Zhan whispered to Murphy, then began a three-second countdown: "Three... two... one, detonate!"
With the final order, Long Zhan pressed the remote detonator. Almost simultaneously, Murphy pressed his detonator as well.
"BOOM\~!"
The combined blast was like thunder ripping through the clear sky.
Over 40 Taliban soldiers caught inside the ambush zone hadn't even recovered from the sudden explosion when death raised its scythe above them.
"Shshshshshsh..."
From the two mines detonated, 1,400 steel balls shot out, turning into a visible silver rainstorm, hammering down on the trap zone.
Those trapped at the intersection of the two explosions felt what a metal storm really meant.
They had no time to react before the overwhelming barrage of steel shafts hit them, piercing through their bodies multiple times.
Those with vital hits to head or heart dropped instantly, gasping their last breaths.
Though mercifully quick, it was still a brutal death.
Others, not hit in vital spots but struck by multiple pellets, felt a soul-shattering agony rip through every limb and bone.
The unbearable pain sent them writhing on the ground, desperate enough to want to shoot themselves.
In less than two seconds, over 70% of the originally intact 40-plus Taliban soldiers were down.
Either dead corpses or writhing in agony, screaming and unable to move.
Fewer than 10 lucky ones had only minor injuries to non-vital parts and were still able to move.
Seeing this hellish carnage, their courage broke completely.
They could no longer think about hunting down the attackers or rescuing their comrades on the ground.
Only one thought filled their minds:
Run for their lives!
Run as fast as they could!
"Since you're out, don't even think about going back."
Hidden quietly at the edge of the village, Long Zhan faced these fleeing remnants, deciding to give them a merciless physical reckoning.
He gripped the MK48 machine gun tightly and started his ruthless harvest.
"Tat tat tat tat tat..."
7.62mm rounds screamed through the air, spraying terrified Taliban soldiers with blood and flesh. None survived.
Smoke and blood intertwined; screams and gunfire echoed — a brutal symphony of violence.
Shaikh, hiding in the village, heard the explosions, recognized the familiar roar of the light machine gun, saw the thick smoke rising in the distance, and heard the clear cries of agony.
His face instantly drained of color, pale as paper. He collapsed onto the ground.