Chapter 917 - 413: Failure

Chapter 917: Chapter 413: Failure

The north wind howls, yellow sand fills the sky.

Snatan Town.

After experiencing car bomb explosions, gunfight baptism, and missile bombardments, the building walls along the road have long become riddled with holes, and the ground is a mess.

Late dusk, a white high-rise building.

Mixed among the ruins are many burnt corpse fragments, engineering plastic casings, and circuit boards.

Suddenly, from the gap between the cement slabs at the wall base, a hand wearing a flame-retardant tactical glove reached out, grabbed the edge, and pushed it open forcefully.

"Crash!"

The slab fell, and a small figure struggled to rise from the dust.

Judging by the eyelashes, it was a dirty woman, wearing a camouflaged tactical scarf, her forehead stained red with blood, cloaked in a sand-colored cape, holding a sand-colored military-styled AXMC high-precision sniper rifle.

Just as she was checking her injuries.

A few footsteps from the front instantly drew her attention. She dodged aside and leapt to land steadily behind a ruin, instantly drawing a Glock 18 pistol from her waistband, staring intently ahead.

Once the figures appeared, there were three extremists wielding rifles.

Only then did the woman rise from the ruins.

The three were just about to raise their guns when she suddenly removed the tactical scarf from her forehead, revealing a sweet face that was undoubtedly:

Ito Meiyu!!

But compared to before, at this moment, Ito Meiyu had none of the weak girl’s demeanor.

Her eyes were cold, her face somber.

At a glance, she resembled a bloodthirsty she-wolf standing in the desert, making one’s scalp tingle.

"Where did those Xia Kingdom special police squads go."

"I should be asking you, didn’t you boast that your shooting skills were impeccable, never letting them leave this town alive?"

Among the Shalam extremists, one tall middle-aged man retorted upon hearing this phrase.

"If it weren’t for your communication blockade issues, do you think they could have left alive?"

While speaking, Ito Meiyu’s gaze swept sharply.

The middle-aged man immediately felt a chill run down his spine, as if the next second she’d shoot him dead.

Suppressing inner panic, he pointed to the ruins bombarded by missiles behind.

"Iran even deployed drones and missiles, how could we possibly stop them!"

"Baka yarou! A bunch of useless idiots!"

This sentence was cursed out by Ito Meiying in Japanese.

She promptly pulled out her phone from her pocket and dialed a number.

Tehran, inside a certain suburban villa.

Abe Shigehide, dressed in a dark blue suit with graying temples, saw the name displayed on the phone screen, his mouth subtly curled up, he immediately put down the whiskey in his hand, and swiped to answer.

"The mission failed, Shalam’s communication interception failed, Iran deployed drone missile support, nearly all Xia Kingdom personnel withdrew from the encirclement, and amidst the confusion, members from Israel Mossad and Syria Military Intelligence Bureau also slipped away."

Upon hearing this, Abe Shigehide’s face instantly turned somber, losing any sign of joy.

Without any response, he directly hung up the phone, returned to the sofa, picked up the whiskey on the table, and downed it in one go.

"Thud."

A white international chess piece dropped on the board placed on the coffee table.

He raised his finger.

Opposite him sat a tall mercenary, wearing a sand-colored operational uniform, an attached tactical vest, his head wrapped in a black tactical headpiece.

"How’s the situation?"

"Failed, communication interception failed, Iran..."

"The next part, you shouldn’t get involved, focus on dealing with the transactions, I’ll handle other matters."

Before Abe Shigehide finished speaking, the headpiece man interrupted with a voice that, though calm, brooked no dissent.

"Bang! Cohen!!"

Ah Bu Zhongben slammed the whiskey glass in his hand onto the coffee table, shattered glass cutting his fingers, causing blood to flow freely, but he seemingly felt no pain, glaring at the PM Mercenary before him who had never shown his face.

"Is the meaning behind your words blaming me for botching the job?"

"Isn’t that the case?"

Cohen lifted his head, his brown eyes gazing at Ah Bu Zhongben, his gaze emotionless yet exerting an invisible pressure, as if a dangerous beast had him in its sights.

He pulled out a tissue from the box on the coffee table, calmly saying to Ah Bu Zhongben: "Whether in Japan, Romania, or now in Iran, have you ever defeated them?"

With the last sentence, Cohen handed the tissue to Ah Bu Zhongben.

At this moment.

He felt an unprecedented humiliation, yet he had no reason to retort.

He lost, simply lost.

"I’ll handle the transaction."

Coldly throwing down these words, Ah Bu Zhongben stood up and left the sofa, ignoring Cohen’s offered tissue throughout.

"Heh..."

Seeing this, Cohen merely chuckled lightly, as if watching a zoo monkey performing, he took the tissue and wiped his eyelids, then pulled out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number: "Let them come..."

"Zzz! Zzz!"

Outside the villa area.

Baron crouched behind some greenery in the estate, impatiently swatting at biting mosquitoes.

"Damn it, these people have been inside for almost three hours, and there’s still no movement. If this keeps up, I’m afraid the mosquitoes will suck me dry!"

"Without this bit of patience, how can you fish for big fish!"

Not far from him, also crouching behind another bush, was a disheveled, casually dressed middle-aged man, indeed Wa Xueming.