King Of War: Starting with Arms Dealer-Chapter 1046 - 930: Expensive Support

Night Tiger’s ’Monkey’ regrouped with his teammate ’Grasshopper’...

Seeing the knife wound on ’Grasshopper’s face, ’Monkey’ made a wiping motion and then softly asked, "What happened?"

’Grasshopper’ wiped his dagger on his pant leg and replied, "Ran into a madman—got shot twice and could still move. If I wasn’t quick on my feet, I might’ve been lying here instead..."

After speaking, ’Grasshopper’ sheathed the dagger back into the scabbard on his chest, pulled out his pistol, and said, "Boss, those guys aren’t running, they’re circling around us. It’s a tough fight ahead..."

’Monkey’, having experienced similar battles, gestured for ’Grasshopper’ to follow, then whispered while moving toward a cluster of bushes, "Our backup’s here. We’re heading to the river to regroup with ’Black Panther’ and their team. The drones will coordinate with ’Ferryman’ to funnel those bastards toward the riverbank.

We’ll cast a net and trap all of those guys..."

As ’Monkey’ was speaking, violent explosions echoed from deep within the jungle...

’Monkey’, with ears sharper than most, glanced up at the canopy that barely allowed slivers of sunlight through before pressing his communicator and commanding, "Everyone, watch out for waterholes and similar spots. The enemy might be lying low in them to avoid infrared detection."

About 600 meters away from ’Monkey’ and his team, ’Comet’ yanked the pin from a grenade and tossed it into a small pond...

The moment the grenade detonated, there was movement within the pond. Two Black men rose, guns raised, ready to fire...

As ’Comet’ dove to the side to avoid gunfire, a drone plummeted from the sky, exploding the moment it hit the water.

Shrapnel ripped through the air from the explosion, leaving horrific wounds on both Black men...

Both screamed in agony. One of them, his arm blown off, gritted his teeth and pulled out a syringe strapped to his waist. He stabbed it forcefully into himself, injecting the pale golden liquid inside...

As the drug coursed through his veins, his pain vanished. A serene smile spread across his face, and despite his severed arm spewing blood, he raised an AK-74 single-handedly, preparing to fire at ’Comet’...

But before he could pull the trigger, a shot from the side struck him in the head.

An M2 shotgun slug hit the back of his skull, shattering it like a coconut struck by a baseball bat. Parts of his brain spilled out onto the ground.

The man reflexively took a step forward, his bloodshot eyes blinking a few times before his body gave up and collapsed into the knee-deep water.

’Comet’ then shot the other severely injured Black man and gave a thumbs-up toward a nearby bush, saying, "’Hatchet’, let’s keep moving. I’ll draw them out; you finish them."

The deputy leader of the Ferryman team removed a round from his belt and chambered it into his shotgun, ensuring it was fully loaded. After nodding slightly, he stepped back a few paces and disappeared into the jungle once more.

’Hatchet’ flanked ’Comet’ from 10 meters away as the two pressed forward, searching in another direction.

Joe Ga stood on the foredeck of the ’Blue Whale’, using the ’Talus’ system to guide Springblades directly above the enemy’s heads.

A series of explosions ripped through the jungle several kilometers away, quickly flipping the battlefield dynamics in favor of Night Tiger and Ferryman.

However, Joe Ga felt it wasn’t enough. The enemy’s numbers were not the twenty-plus previously reported by ’Comet’, but over forty.

From the impact data captured when the Springblades penetrated the canopy, Joe realized only a small fraction of them belonged to that so-called G.I.D. team, while the majority were local Black fighters.

Unlike the soldiers Joe Ga had encountered in the past, these Black fighters, even when hit by Springblades’ explosives, could often stand back up if the blast wasn’t direct.

This situation prompted Joe Ga to intensify his offensive. More Springblades began to launch.

He and Dorian each controlled four Springblades per round, systematically clearing the jungle from its depths toward the riverbank.

The successive bombardments and mounting casualties left the G.I.D. team completely unprepared.

But these were seasoned operatives active in Africa, skilled and elite. The moment they realized the Springblades tracked them via infrared, they reacted swiftly.

’Barsakya’, an almost 50-year-old middle-aged white man with piercing green eyes, recognized the danger and immediately pulled a lightweight foil thermal blanket from his backpack to drape over himself. He also issued orders to the others...

"Abort the rescue mission. Set up traps and mines. Begin retreat..."

Just as ’Barsakya’ finished speaking, several Springblades whistled through the canopy, exploding approximately 40 meters away from him.

Hearing cries for help through the radio, ’Barsakya’ shook his head, firmly stating, "Leave the wounded to delay them. Everyone else, retreat, retreat, retreat..."

As he spoke, ’Barsakya’ retrieved a simple auto-injector from his medical pouch. Staring at the golden liquid inside, he hesitated briefly before finally injecting the stimulant into his body.

The stimulant ’Barsakya’ used was far more advanced than what the Black fighters had. After administering it, he didn’t exhibit any signs of frenzy...

He moved confidently, his strides powerful, and it was clear his awareness of his surroundings had significantly sharpened...

After advancing a few dozen meters, ’Barsakya’ abruptly stopped as an arrow streaked past his position.

Had he kept moving, the arrow would’ve pierced his ribs...

Narrowly avoiding the ambush, ’Barsakya’ instantly fired a burst in the direction the arrow had come from, then rolled forward several meters, pulling out a grenade as he went and tossing it...

With a thunderous boom, ’Barsakya’ leaped to his feet, charging forward several steps into a thinly wooded area, bending his path into an arc toward the enemy’s presumed location.

After covering another dozen meters, ’Barsakya’ didn’t find the enemy—what he did find was one of his own men hanging from a tree.

A smaller-statured Island Nation soldier was suspended by vines, his limbs severed but still alive.

Upon seeing his comrade’s despairing eyes, pleading for death, ’Barsakya’ didn’t approach. Instead, he raised his weapon and mercifully shot him through the heart.

As he turned to leave, a grenade slipped out of his hand to the ground...

Reacting as if jolted by electricity, he dove forward, rolling behind a large tree...

The ensuing explosion...

The grenade’s blast flushed ’Silt’ out from behind a nearby tree.

’Silt’ rose, inspecting his left hand, which was pierced by shrapnel...

He smiled in ’Barsakya’s direction before disappearing into the jungle like a serpent, using the cover of trees before ’Barsakya’ could fire.

’Barsakya’ stared at the spot where ’Silt’ vanished for a few seconds. Then his keen hearing caught the subtle hum of approaching drones...

The instant four Springblades pierced through the canopy, he pivoted and began sprinting...

Four successive explosions pursued ’Barsakya’, but the jungle greatly reduced the kill radius of the shrapnel. The four Springblades failed to finish him off.

This left Dorian, controlling the drones, frustrated...

But if Dorian was frustrated, ’Barsakya’ was undoubtedly even more vexed.

Once an elite soldier in England’s Air Service Group, ’Barsakya’ had left the military to join G.I.D., where the compensation far exceeded anything he’d earned before.

The advantages weren’t just monetary. The equipment and support provided were state-of-the-art.

The G.I.D. action team’s individual gear was among the finest in the world.

To ensure uninterrupted communication with HQ, G.I.D. even leased satellite bandwidth exclusively for the team.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that without external support, this team’s equipment and training matched that of Delta Force.

Yet ’Barsakya’ was baffled by the sheer number of suicide drones the enemy had at their disposal.

Each Springblade, worth tens of thousands on the market, was being used like a common grenade. It was almost incomprehensible.

Even G.I.D., as wealthy as they were, couldn’t afford to arm their operatives with such costly disposable "toys."

Moreover, the enemy’s local fighters could call in air support—this astonished ’Barsakya’.

They had previously clashed with Yamako’s ’Anteaters,’ enjoying victories but suffering defeats as well.

The aerial support possessed by those in Yamako’s P.B. usually involved helicopters or even fighter jets.

Due to the jungle’s natural dampening effect on rockets and bombs, ’Barsakya’s’ group had never suffered heavy losses. Consequently, they believed P.B.’s combat power was heavily augmented by air support.

’Barsakya’ thought anyone with that kind of firepower would be invincible in central Africa...

But he hadn’t anticipated that P.B. not only possessed overwhelming firepower but also highly precise support capabilities.

What surprised him even more was realizing Yamako’s ’Anteaters’ hadn’t yet developed the habit of using precision weaponry. Their calls for air support were merely because it was easy and convenient.

P.B.’s infantry was never lacking in sophisticated weaponry; it’s just that others found it cumbersome and didn’t carry much of it!

Now he faced one of the world’s most elite Tier-1 teams, coincidentally with Joe Ga nearby—bad luck for them!

’Barsakya’ sprinted through the jungle for over ten minutes, eventually regrouping with four comrades. Together, the five began moving swiftly toward their designated extraction point.

As they circumvented the combat zone, heading toward their target, the unmistakable roar of helicopters grew louder overhead, followed by the chattering of machine gun fire...