Turning the Tables

But when the helicopters and light armored vehicles drew a little closer, the two men were stunned to discover that two tribal flags were flying from the armored vehicles.

One of them was familiar—a fairly large tribe near the capital.

The tribe's old chieftain was also one of the key figures behind this coup.

Could this be the old chieftain's tribal force?

If that was true, they would have to reassess the old chieftain. That old fox had secretly built up an armed force powerful enough to overthrow all of Burkina Faso. He was plotting something big...

As for the Presidential Palace guard soldiers behind them, their reaction was even stronger.

Some of the quick-witted ones had already quietly slipped away and sneaked into the Presidential Palace.

Because if fighting really broke out later, anyone standing at the front would probably die!

The so-called elite Presidential Palace guards depended on who they were being compared to.

Compared with tribal militias, they were certainly elite troops.

But compared with the fully mechanized modern force before them, the Presidential Palace guards were nothing but a rabble...

The SUV carrying Petrov, the old chieftain, and Mumu drove to the very front and stopped.

With everyone watching, the doors opened, and the old chieftain and Mumu stepped out.

Behind them followed a middle-aged man in camouflage. His features could not be seen clearly, but he was obviously not a Black man. He should have been a foreigner.

The long line of armored vehicles behind them also stopped. Amid heavy bangs as doors opened and shut, Mumu's five hundred tribal fighters jumped out and swiftly formed ranks under the instructors' commands.

As for the helicopters overhead, none of them landed. Instead, they hovered one after another above an open patch of ground nearby.

Then