Human Minelayer

"A kind man gets bullied; a gentle horse gets ridden." Chen Ge knew this truth inside out. The old rule held true: when dealing with Russians, one had to be domineering and ruthless. Only when they feared you would they respect you. He nodded slightly and asked, "How much ammo did you bring?" Now thoroughly cooperative, Archer hurried to report, "Twelve crates of rifle ammo, eight crates of machine gun ammo, twelve crates of grenades, six machine guns, ten rocket launchers, seven crates of warheads, two heavy machine guns, ten packs of bottled water, four crates of compressed biscuits and canned food! Five MON-50 mines, and Trench also had me bring seventy 60mm mortar rounds." Finishing his report, Archer pointed out the window. "It's all outside. Would you like to inspect it, sir?" Chen Ge waved a hand. "No need. Octopus, direct the assault team to haul it in quickly. Squad leaders, assemble in the corridor!" The 7th Assault Company numbered eighty-five men, divided into five assault squads. Their commander went by the call sign Bull, and the five squad leaders used the call signs Coyote, Osprey, Javelin, Tombstone, and Rust—all Wagner veterans. The six men, along with Archer, formed a line in front of Chen Ge. Chen Ge's expression softened. Pulling out a cigarette pack, he passed one to each of the seven men and said, "Let me introduce myself formally. I signed my contract with the company last August, and at the start of this month I was transferred back from Syria to fight in Ukraine. I'm the fire support team leader of the Falcon Hunting Team. You've probably heard of the Falcons?" The seven men nodded. Of course they knew the renowned Falcons. Before the Russia-Ukraine conflict erupted, the IS Hunting Team Falcon in Syria had already been famous. A few days ago, the Falcons had infiltrated the Klishchiivka Heights to seize the commanding high-rise, assisting the main force in capturing the heights. That battle had cemented their fame, earning them the Platinum Star Medal presented personally by the boss, making their reputation even more formidable. Bull looked Chen Ge up and down, then mused, "Sledgehammer, I heard the Falcon Hunting Team has an Artillery King, a Chinese guy with uncanny mortar accuracy. That wouldn't happen to be you, would it?" All eyes turned toward Chen Ge. They, too, had heard legends of the Artillery King's fierce combat record: Bracing a mortar tube with one hand, hitting whatever target he chose, even scoring direct hits on high-speed IS technicals. Chen Ge said modestly, "That's me. But the 'Artillery King' nickname is exaggerated. I'm just slightly more accurate than the average gunner. I can hardly live up to such a title." "Alright, your turn to introduce yourselves. Make it quick—Ukrainian reinforcements are already here." Bull and the others turned serious, introducing themselves one by one and giving a brief rundown of their K-soldiers' combat capabilities. After listening, Chen Ge furrowed his brows and pondered for a moment. He drew out his personal radio to sync frequencies before issuing tactical deployments. "Bull, take Coyote, Osprey, and Javelin's squads up to the second floor with a heavy machine gun. Keep watch on the southwest. There's an ammunition cache stockpiled by the Ukrainians in the storage room on the right side of the north corridor. When they storm the building, don't hold back on ammo or grenades—hit them hard!" "And make sure you throw the grenades as far out as possible so you don't hit our brothers on the ground floor." "Understood!" Bull nodded in acknowledgment and took Coyote and the other two squad leaders to assemble forty-six K-soldiers, hauling a KORD heavy machine gun up to the second floor. The KORD heavy machine gun was one of the Russian military's primary active-duty heavy machine guns. The gun itself weighed 25.5 kilograms, while the complete 6T19 bipod system brought the total weight to 31.5 kilograms. It fired at 600 to 750 rounds per minute, with an effective range of 2,000 meters against ground targets and 1,500 meters against aerial targets, fed by 50-round non-disintegrating metallic belts. This heavy machine gun had performed exceptionally well in combat, mainly used for long-range suppressive fire, destroying light armored vehicles, fortifications, drones, and low-flying helicopters. It was standard issue across Russian infantry, airborne forces, and armored vehicle roof mounts. "Rust, take your men to the laboratory on the right side of the south corridor and take orders from Octopus and Lightbulb. Tombstone, your squad stays here!" Chen Ge pointed at the four rooms before them. "Yes, sir!" Neither man wasted words, turning at once to direct their K-soldiers to prepare for combat. Chen Ge looked at Archer with a genial smile. "Can you guys join the fight?" The barrier detachment's duty was to push K-soldiers toward the enemy, not to charge the enemy themselves. Archer remained silent for a few seconds before answering somewhat awkwardly, "If necessary, we can take part in combat!" The implication was clear: their role was solely enforcement. Unless pushed to the absolute brink—like Ukrainian troops breaching the building, leaving them no choice if they wanted to survive—they wouldn't fight. Chen Ge smiled faintly and said nothing. He stepped into the room to inspect the munitions and supplies hauled in by the K-soldiers, grabbed a bottle of mineral water, sat down on an ammo crate, unscrewed the cap, and chugged it down in one go. The surrounding K-soldiers looked upon Chen Ge with dread, tinged with sheer curiosity. How could a man be this absurdly strong? Just then, Night Cat walked past the burly man lying against the wall, carrying a crate of grenades. His right foot "accidentally" stepped onto the burly man's left fingers, even giving them an absentminded grinding twist. The pain shot straight to the heart. The brute jolted awake, screaming at the top of his lungs. "Hiss... Ahhh! Suka! Fuck, it hurts!" Thump! Night Cat kicked him right in the mouth, knocking out two front teeth. "Son of a bitch! Who the fuck do you think you're cursing at?" Kuzma's head cleared in an instant. The memory of Chen Ge gripping his throat with one hand and smashing him into the wall rushed back. Terrified, he looked around and saw Chen Ge sitting opposite him. Cold sweat instantly soaked his back; his heart practically skipped a beat. He had provoked someone he never should have crossed—the overall commander of every veteran and K-soldier in this building. Consumed by regret and sullen resentment, he scrambled up, keeping his head down, not daring to meet Night Cat's eyes. "I asked you who the fuck you're cursing at! Speak!" Night Cat was obviously venting anger on Chen Ge's behalf. Giving Kuzma no room to explain, he swung the ammo crate into the man's chest, then seized a half-meter-long iron pipe from the floor beside him and rained blows down upon him indiscriminately. Blood poured from Kuzma's nose and mouth. Curled into a ball with his arms wrapped around his head, he wept and shrieked for mercy. "Ahhh! I was wrong... I was wrong! I apologize!" The surrounding K-soldiers watched with hammering hearts, not daring to breathe loudly, while the veterans looked on with chuckles, including Kuzma's squad leader, Tombstone. In Tombstone's eyes, K-soldiers were no different from livestock. Since being reassigned to the 7th Assault Company on September 2nd to command them, crop after crop of K-soldiers had died under him. Among the fifteen K-soldiers currently in his squad, only two had survived the longest: one for eighteen days, and the other for nineteen! The fastest one to die had lasted two minutes. The moment they arrived in the trenches, Ukrainian artillery struck, and eleven men were blown into spare parts on the spot. This idiot Kuzma was senior cannon fodder who had survived nineteen days. Imprisoned last year for intentional assault, he had a violent and vicious temper. Thanks to his imposing physique, he had ruled as a tyrant in prison. On the battlefield, he fought fiercely enough, and he was adept at reading people's cues and kissing ass; Tombstone normally liked the guy well enough. Just earlier, Kuzma had jumped out like a barking dog, and everyone knew he was kissing Archer's ass, currying favor with the barrier detachment squad leader. Tragically, he had kicked an iron plate. Tombstone was certain: Kuzma was a dead man. Beating him to death on the spot wasn't permitted; company regulations allowed corporal punishment, but no killing. However, this was a battlefield. One could easily come up with several perfectly legitimate ways to get him killed. For instance... ordering him to charge directly into Ukrainian machine gun fire. "Night Cat!" Seeing Night Cat treating Kuzma like a punching bag and hitting harder with every blow, Chen Ge called out to stop him. Night Cat straightened up, tossed aside the iron pipe smeared with rank blood, and spat at Kuzma, whose face was bruised and swollen, bald head split open in several gashes, eyes rolling back as he twitched. "Stop fucking playing dead! Get up! I'm counting to three!" Night Cat even tacked on the Sichuanese phrase he had picked up from Chen Ge—"Laozi shudaoshan"—and had barely barked out "One!" before Kuzma scrambled up. The man could certainly take a beating; after such a brutal thrashing, he still managed to get to his feet, cowering before Night Cat. Blood dripped from his cheeks down to his chin, pattering onto the floor. Kuzma held his breath, his heart in his throat. He regretted everything until his guts turned green, wishing he could slap himself silly. "Name!" With his front teeth knocked out, Kuzma spoke with a lisp, mumbling, "Kuz... Kuzma..." "What can you do?" "Reporting... I... I'm good with machine guns... and I know how to plant mines..." The moment the words left his mouth, Kuzma's eyes widened in horror. Hadn't he just dug his own grave? Sure enough, Night Cat's eyes lit up. In his view, Kuzma was no longer a person—he was a human minelayer! He pointed toward the wooden crate nearby containing the Russian version of the Claymore, the MON-50 directional mines. "Not bad. Go outside and lay these five mines." Kuzma: "..."