41: Chapter 41: Easily Handled 41: Chapter 41: Easily Handled Gao Yang kicked open a door that wasn’t locked at all.
His foot sailed through the air, nearly causing him to stumble, but fortunately, he managed to regain his balance.
Bursting into the room, the first thing Gao Yang saw was several people looking at him in astonishment.
Without getting a clear count of how many people there were, he immediately fired at the person closest to him.
From almost point-blank range, after the gunshot, that person’s head turned into a burst watermelon.
Gao Yang only saw that there were a few people, and he also saw them scrambling to grab their guns.
Several AK47s were just lying on the bed in the bedroom.
Gao Yang didn’t have time to count how many people there were; he simply opened fire on any object that moved.
In the heat of the moment, the pump-action shotgun allowed Gao Yang to fire at a fully automatic rate.
Accompanied by the sound of the action cycling, he gave everyone in the room a shot.
In just a few seconds, Gao Yang, with bloodshot eyes, had turned everyone in the room into a bloody mess.
When he could no longer find any targets, he stopped shooting, panting heavily.
It was then that he noticed the distinctive roar of a machine gun still fiercely bellowing.
When he heard the machine gun, and not the sound of an M4, Gao Yang’s heart skipped a beat.
He turned and ran out of the room, only to see Glolov cradling a machine gun, firing wildly against the door of Fedor’s bedroom.
Although the door already had a huge hole in it, it was still clearly closed.
Glolov continued firing until the drum was empty before stopping.
Taking advantage of Glolov’s moment to reload, Gao Yang rushed forward and kicked open the lower half of the bedroom door, while Cui Bo almost simultaneously pushed open the upper half.
The two of them entered Fedor’s room one after the other.
There were two people lying face-down on the bed, riddled with holes like sieves.
Blood and flesh were splattered all over the wall behind them; they were already dead beyond any doubt.
In the furthest corner, where the bullets couldn’t reach, a person was curled up, hands over his head, screaming hysterically.
After yelling to Glolov that it was safe, Gao Yang approached the yelling man and shouted louder than his cries, “Shut up, stand up, or I’ll kill you.”
Gao Yang’s words were in vain; the man wouldn’t stop.
At that moment, Cui Bo pulled Gao Yang aside and shouted something in Arabic.
The cowering guy immediately flopped onto the floor, stretching out both hands, not daring to move again.
Gao Yang took a few deep breaths and said loudly, “Rabbit, find out what’s going on with this guy.
Glolov, stay on guard.
I’m going to check the next room.”
Having said that, Gao Yang quickly moved into another room, now having the time to check.
Gao Yang had shot dead four people, each riddled with large bloody holes, with blood everywhere.
A 00 buckshot round contains nine pellets, and the impact of each pellet is comparable to a 9mm Parabellum pistol bullet.
Being hit by the shotgun was akin to being hit nine times by 9mm bullets, certainly fatal.
After confirming that everyone was thoroughly dead, Gao Yang immediately reloaded his shotgun, then observed the four dead in the room.
They seemed like locals, but Gao Yang felt their clothing was somehow different from that of the locals, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly how.
He lacked understanding of the local customs and culture to make a distinction.
Then, Gao Yang stepped out of the room and asked Glolov at the stairway, “What happened just now?
Why did you start shooting from outside the door?”
Glolov snickered and spoke in a low voice, “Your friend kicked a couple of times but couldn’t break the door, so I pulled him aside and fired directly into the room.”
Gao Yang was stunned for a moment and said nothing.
After exchanging a smile with Glolov, he turned back into the room and addressed Cui Bo, who was still chattering in Arabic, “How is it?
Did you get anything out of him?
Was it them who did it?”
Cui Bo shook his head and said, “This little guy says it wasn’t them.
Still questioning the rest.”
The captured individual was now kneeling on the floor, his face smeared with tears and snot, looking no more than twenty years old and utterly terrified.
Seeing Gao Yang enter, he immediately started babbling again.
“What else could it be?
He’s just saying not to kill him because he doesn’t want to die or something.”
Gao Yang nodded and, with a terrifying glare, looked at the panicked young man, “Rabbit, ask him who exactly did it and tell him if he doesn’t speak up, we’ll immediately blow his damn brains out.”
After Cui Bo asked a few harsh questions in Arabic, he quickly got the answer.
It was an organization that had marked several nearby streets as its territory, planned and carried out the murders of Fedor and Malik.
They had no other motive—they were after money to fund their organization.
Most people in this organization were locals, and many were from the streets nearby.
Hence, they seldom messed with local shops, though they did engage in extortion.
However, they didn’t commit murder.
Unfortunately, Fedor and Malik were foreigners, and they had been chosen as an example to show others what could happen.
The man who killed Fedor and Malik was the leader of this organization, named Sharim.
The entire organization, more than a hundred people, was gathered just two streets away.
The reason the captured young man was in Fedor’s shop was that he was taking care of a few people next door.
After learning why Fedor was murdered, Gao Yang, struggling to contain his anger, asked Cui Bo, “Check out the guys next door, something feels off, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.”
After a few more questions, Cui Bo replied with a strange look, “Brother Yang, the people next door are from the Taliban.
Those four were here to build bombs, and there are over a dozen Taliban with this organization.
The opposition is actually in cahoots with the Taliban.
Damn, Brother Yang, now we’ve really got a situation.”
Gao Yang was shocked.
No wonder he felt that the attire of the four dead men next door didn’t look like locals.
They turned out to be foreigners and actually members of the infamous Taliban.
After thinking for a while, Gao Yang said solemnly, “Ask him where those people are.
We can’t delay this matter.
You’ve seen the combat strength of the opposition—they are worthless.
But the Taliban is different.
I think those who managed to come here mean business.
We have the advantage in night combat, so let’s try to finish them off tonight.”
Cui Bo nodded, and after getting the location, pulled out his pistol.
Amidst the captive’s fearful gaze and loud screams, he fired four shots.
Seeing Cui Bo kill the captive, Gao Yang was stunned and exclaimed, “Damn, Rabbit, have you gone mad?
Still with a calm demeanor, Cui Bo holstered his pistol and said evenly, “Seeing Malik and Fedor’s corpses, I didn’t plan on leaving any survivors today.
Plus, he saw our faces; leaving him alive would be a disaster.
Don’t forget, I’ve been in this place for nearly two years.
I don’t want anyone to know I was involved in this.
Last reason, I wanted to test the recoil and power of the P226.”
Hearing Cui Bo’s words, Gao Yang had nothing to say.
After mulling over Cui Bo’s words for a moment, he bitterly smiled and said, “Actually, you’re right and you did the right thing.
Since we’re risking our lives for this, we can’t afford to leave troubles behind.
We’re at war, and we can’t afford to be benevolent.
But how can you be so calm?
Don’t you feel anything when you kill?”
Cui Bo shrugged, pointed to his head, and said, “I’m scared to death, really.
My hands are shaking, and so are my legs.
But we have to get used to this kind of thing sooner or later, right?
So now I’m adopting the mindset of a soldier.
No, it should be the mindset of a special forces trooper who kills without blinking.
This is what you call role-playing.”
Gao Yang chuckled and responded, “Cut it out, it’s not role-playing, it’s your imagination running wild.
With so much noise, don’t attract the enemy.
There’s a few AK47s next door and plenty of ammo.
Go keep watch on the first floor.
After Glolov and I grab some ammunition, we need to get moving.”
Cui Bo patted his M4 and disdainfully answered, “We have this, who needs an AK?”
“Idiot, it’s not useful to you or me, but it is for Glolov!
He needs to resupply with ammo!”
After sending Cui Bo to keep watch on the first floor, Gao Yang called Glolov over, and once Glolov joined him in Malik’s room, Gao Yang pointed at the AK47 rifles and ammunition packs on the bed, “There’s quite a bit of ammo here, I think you should take some.
By the way, is your leg alright?
Will carrying more bullets affect you?”
Glolov just shook his head to indicate his leg was fine, and then took a bullet from the ammunition pack on the bed.
However, after only a glance, he threw the bullet away.
This isn’t a Russian-made bullet.
Look at the Arabic writing on it.
I don’t need to know which country made it.
Any bullet with that writing is rubbish.
They all have one thing in common: the casing’s thickness is uneven.
When you fire, the case might split or develop a hole.
Either your gun will blow up or jam.
So if you don’t want to have misplaced confidence in your ammo, stay away from these bullets.
Compared to them, even the steel-cased ammo made in Russia during the ’50s is top-notch.”
What Glolov shared was valuable experience, learned through the deaths of many.
After examining a bullet, remembering what the dangerous ones looked like, Gao Yang asked, “So, what bullets are good?”