Chapter 315
Milutin lay on her side on the bed, her small hands patting the empty space beside her.
She said before that this bed can fit three people, and look, there's room for three people here.
I've already made room for the young master, so he should hurry up and lie down.
"You didn't call me here just to do something so pointless, did you?"
Wu Liang spoke calmly, his arms crossed.
"Wouldn't it be better to chat if we slept together?"
"If you sit there and keep staring at me, I'll feel embarrassed."
"However, if you do not wish to, I cannot force you to favor me."
Milutin blinked her beautiful eyes.
But instead of continuing to gesture to Wu Liang, he lay on his back on the bed in a starfish position.
Milutin's skirt was rubbed up quite a bit, making her long, straight, white legs stand out even more in the night.
Her fair thighs were plump and smooth, and her two beautiful legs twisted like intertwined white snakes.
"I mean, at least show some respect that I'm a man..."
Just as Wu Liang was about to say something.
He saw a hideous scar on Milutin's slightly exposed chest.
It was a very noticeable and deep scar.
A wound that is so close to the heart can be considered fatal.
This suddenly reminded Wu Liang of what happened the first time he went to a comic convention with Milutin.
After Milutin saved the child from being hit by a car, he discovered that the child's tattered clothes concealed a body covered in wounds.
The scars covering almost his entire body were shocking, including several potentially fatal wounds.
Even though Milutin says she doesn't care, as a woman, her body and face are something to be proud of...
"Young master, peeking at a lady's chest is not something a gentleman should do."
Just as Wu Liang was intently looking at the scar on Milutin's chest.
Milutin suddenly clutched her chest, a blush creeping onto her face.
"Milutin... can you tell me about your past...?"
Wu Liang gazed at the red-haired beauty before him with a complex expression.
That scarred body, what exactly is Milutin's past...?
Chapter Thirty-Three: The Dark Night Fire - Milutin's Past (Part 1)
A powerful gust of wind, strong enough to blow a person away, hit us in the face, and the sand and gravel, accompanied by the gale, stung our faces.
A deafening roar and thunderous explosions resounded in my ears.
This is a real battlefield, where blinding flames rise less than three meters in front of people.
It was like a raging fire that could blot out the sky, coming in like a tidal wave.
Some people didn't even have time to dodge before they were engulfed by the flames and turned into charred remains.
Gunshots rang out everywhere, shattering the tranquility of the area.
The green jeep bumped along the ground.
The ruthless bandits, wearing red headscarves and green leather jackets, were encircling and annihilating the soldiers hiding here.
Those soldiers are now basically all trapped in that small, unfinished building complex ahead.
They only need to slowly tighten the encirclement to wipe out all the soldiers hiding there.
However, although the goal is to wipe out those soldiers, it would be even better if they could be captured alive.
After all, by using soldiers as hostages, they can extort more money from the local government.
Moreover, this group of soldiers is a rather special special forces unit.
We might be able to obtain more information by using these people.
The quality of this group of people is several levels higher than that of ordinary soldiers.
.
'Unfinished building area'
"Fuck! Why do those 'monsters' have such good equipment?"
"How could a 'country dog' possibly have a fully equipped M4 and AUG?"
"Damn it, I even saw those 'mutton dogs' equipped with armor-piercing heavy firearms. Can someone explain to me what's going on?"
(Local dogs: These are usually outlaws who are poorly equipped but extremely arrogant, and who often operate in war-torn countries.)
A tall, white man pressed himself against the window, cautiously peeking out half his head to observe the thugs gradually approaching.
When he saw the weapons carried by the group of criminals.
The white man ripped off his helmet and spoke angrily.
Where did these "country bumpkins" get that kind of equipment?
In a country with such a backward economy and slow technological development, where did those damn bastards get their equipment from?
Even the country's army doesn't have as advanced weapons as those "country bumpkins".
How could a mere "country bumpkin" have the same equipment as these special forces soldiers? What kind of international joke is this?
"Corporal, put on your turtle shell and stop yelling here."
"If you want to get shot in the next second and have your shit-filled head blown off, then keep standing where you are."
Her pretty face, covered in dust, was smeared with dirty mud to conceal her fair and delicate skin.
Her fiery red short hair stood out so much in the night.
But his ruby-like eyes held only an extreme coldness.
Milutin leaned against the wall, his cold gaze sweeping over his companions.
A team of forty people was reduced to only seven.
Damn it, they've fallen into these mutts' trap this time.
"You!!!"
"Yes... I'm sorry..."
The white man's anger was only momentary.
Upon seeing Milutin's cold face, his anger subsided.
He obediently picked up the helmet that he had thrown on the ground and put it back on.
Looking at the group of injured or disabled teammates around him.
The white man bit his lip, squatted down with a look of despair in his eyes, and remained silent.
"Call..."
Milutin looked up at the ceiling, which was not yet fully constructed.
He glanced at his tattered military uniform and the blood seeping from his shoulder.
"Rabbit, how are things on your end? Are you able to get out?"
After a moment of silence, Milutin pressed the button on his walkie-talkie.
She can now only contact three people.
The original nine-person elite team, including her, is now down to four.
No more deaths are allowed, absolutely no more deaths are allowed.
"The reward is that there are people on all sides, making it difficult to break through."
"My squad only has twenty men left, M. How's the situation on your end? Do you need reinforcements?"
"How many people do you have left? Do you need me to come and meet you? You're too far back; they'll catch up."
A mature and steady female voice came from the walkie-talkie.
The woman's voice carried a hint of worry, as if she were very concerned about Milutin's condition.
"I'm fine here, don't worry. How are they doing over there?"
Milutin glanced at the soldiers who were all looking at her and whispered.
He groped around in his pockets, as if searching for something.
But she frowned slightly when she noticed that her pants pocket had been ripped open by the shards.
There were shrapnel embedded in his groin, and blood was flowing from it.
"Hold."
He couldn't help but curse under his breath, and Milutin smacked his lips.
"Things are still relatively optimistic. Our groups will gather in ten minutes and break out northwards together."
"The number of 'local dogs' over there is the smallest, and these local soldiers are very familiar with that area."
"But your group is far to the north. K and I will come to meet you with some men in five minutes."
The sound of cocking and reloading came through the walkie-talkie.
It was as if the woman opposite him was ready to set off at any moment.
"Rabbit, I don't need your help. You know very well that it takes an open area to get here from your side."
"If you come to pick me up, it's like putting your life and your teammates' life on the scales of death."
"We both know the consequences of being exposed to enemy fire."
Milutin casually tore off a piece of cloth from her body and tied it around her thigh to stop the bleeding.
He slowly pinched a piece of grenade fragment embedded in the wound with his right hand.
"M, but you're too far from the breakout point..."
"We are mercenaries. Even though you, me, and K have a good relationship and are part of a team."
"But in this life-or-death situation, do you choose to save your own life or be prepared to die to save me? I don't need to teach you that."
Milutin gave the soldiers around him an apologetic smile.
I'm sorry, everyone, you've really suffered following me.
"Tell K that there are other surviving companions. Don't worry about me, just focus on breaking through."
"I am strong, stronger than any of you. Even without you, I can lead my squad out alive."
Milutin took a deep breath and silently looked at the shards deeply embedded in her flesh.
It's ironic that things have come to this.
Our team, hailed as an elite mercenary group, was surprisingly defeated by "country bumpkins".
"M, you're not the only one acting like this now..."
Click...
Milutin slammed the walkie-talkie to the ground, smashing it to pieces.
He then pressed his thigh tightly and forcefully pulled the fragments, still bloody and embedded in his flesh, out...