The film starts with the Navy SEALs

This problem was indeed too thorny; capturing Zayev alive or killing him each had its advantages and disadvantages, and he needed more time to think it over. In this tense situation, every decision could lead to drastically different outcomes, and he dared not draw a conclusion hastily. Then, he casually asked Novin, "If it were you, what would you do?"

"I haven't decided yet," Norman's answer was equally ambiguous. He continued seriously, "If Stonbug were here, he would consider the bigger picture and capture him alive." In his mind, Stonbug had always been a model of prioritizing the greater good. His sacrifice deeply saddened everyone, but his spirit profoundly influenced Norman. Stonbug always made the right decisions at crucial moments, putting the greater good first—a spirit that constantly inspired Norman.

“But he’s gone,” Sergei whispered. The departure of Stumpy was a wound that would forever remain in everyone’s hearts, but the harsh reality presented themselves, forcing them to make a decision. These words, like a hammer blow, reminded them once again of the pain of losing a comrade, making this difficult choice even heavier.

“What if we carry on his spirit? Do as the boss says, capture this bastard alive.” Noven ultimately chose to respect Stumbich’s spirit; emotion triumphed over impulsive anger. He knew that only by capturing Zayev alive could he avenge his fallen comrades, uncover the truth, and give an explanation for all the sacrifices. This decision, though difficult, was the best way to carry on Stumbich’s spirit.

Sergei remained silent, only nodding quietly, clearly sharing Noven's choice. In the perilous cabin, they continued forward with a shared belief, venturing into the unknown to face the impending challenges and uncover the truth hidden in the darkness. They knew the road ahead was fraught with peril, but for justice and truth, they were fearless. Every step they took was firm and powerful, as if declaring their resolve to the darkness; no matter the difficulties, they would steadfastly continue until the mission was accomplished, giving a satisfactory answer to all those who had sacrificed themselves.

Noven and Sergei were like two ghostly hunters slithering through the abyss of darkness. They ventured deep into the cargo ship, maintaining a high state of alert throughout, their nerves taut like a fully drawn bowstring. The narrow passageways, like winding black serpents, stretched into the unknown depths. Their figures moved swiftly through the shadows, each step extremely cautious, as if the slightest misstep would trigger hidden dangers.

They came to a metal staircase. Old and cold, it reeked of rust, seemingly whispering tales of bygone eras. This staircase was like a ladder to hell, its end concealing unknown dangers. They exchanged a glance, their eyes conveying a tacit understanding. They strode as softly as possible, each step a silent gamble against time and their enemy. The iron staircase creaked under their footsteps, a jarring sound in the stillness. They knew that even the slightest noise could be detected, revealing their location.

They walked cautiously for several minutes, time seemingly frozen in the tense atmosphere. Finally, they passed through an iron door and entered the lower deck. The lower deck was filled with a damp and pungent smell, and dim lights flickered in the corners, as if they might go out at any moment, adding to the eerie atmosphere of the space. As soon as they entered, Norman's sharp, eagle-like eyes instantly spotted a head peeking out from below. Clearly, this armed man had heard the door open and, out of instinctive wariness and suspicion, cautiously peeked out. When he saw two unfamiliar faces enter, a flash of fear crossed his eyes; he instantly realized—the enemy had arrived!
However, before he could react further, Norman, who had been on high alert and poised like a cheetah, swiftly turned his gun and locked onto his target. "Chirp, chirp." Two sharp gunshots shattered the silence of the lower deck, like two bolts of lightning ripping through the dark night sky. The bullets, with a deadly whistle, struck the militant precisely in the head. He didn't even have time to scream; the lingering terror in his eyes remained before he collapsed, crashing heavily to the ground with a dull thud.

"Safe. Prepare to plant the explosives." Sergei whispered, giving Novan a concise instruction. His eyes were firm and calm, indicating that Novan should stay and plant the explosives, while he gripped his gun tightly, like a stalking black panther, continuing to probe forward to check for any potential dangers in the vicinity. Novan nodded slightly, his eyes revealing a focus and determination, indicating that he had received the order. Then, he quickly crouched down, skillfully took out the explosives from his backpack, and began to concentrate on planting them.

At this moment, Noven was completely focused on planting the explosives, unaware that the sound of the gunshot had rippled through the silent lower deck, attracting another armed man nearby. Just as Noven was concentrating on installing the explosives, a figure stealthily crept up behind him like a ghost. Unexpectedly, it was a woman. This woman was tall and muscular. Perhaps relying on her superior strength, or perhaps hoping to capture him alive for a reward, this armed man didn't choose to use a gun. Instead, with a sliver of hope, he suddenly grabbed Noven's neck from behind, attempting to subdue him.

But she never expected that the seemingly frail Norman was actually no less strong than the average man. Norman was a top-notch contractor who had undergone the most professional training. Years of rigorous training and countless life-or-death trials had forged his iron will and extraordinary combat abilities. In this critical moment, Norman tilted his head back and slammed it into the militant's nose with all his might. This sudden counterattack caused the militant to let out a painful groan, his hands instinctively loosening their grip. In that instant of weakness, Norman swiftly swung his hand back, using his explosive power and superb skill to slam her heavily to the ground. With a dull thud, the militant's body rolled several times on the ground. Immediately afterward, Norman moved with lightning speed, drawing his pistol from his thigh without hesitation. The dark muzzle was aimed at the militant on the ground, and without hesitation, he pulled the trigger. "Bang!" With a crisp gunshot, a bullet whistled out, accurately striking the militant's vitals. Her body trembled slightly before collapsing to the ground, blood spreading around her, ending her sinful life.

"Buddy, how's it going?" Sergei heard the gunfire behind him and his heart tightened. Worried that Noven might be in trouble, he quickly asked over the radio. His voice was low, but it carried a hint of anxiety.

"Things are going smoothly, we're setting the explosives now," Noven replied, his hands moving without slowing down. He skillfully placed the two time bombs in their pre-selected locations, carefully checking every detail to ensure they would function accurately at the crucial moment.

"B1, locate and capture the target alive." Colonel Kochuan's voice came through the radio, his tone carrying an undeniable firmness and authority. "Roger," Sergei replied briefly and forcefully, then quickened the pace of the search. At this point, they only knew that Zaev was inside the ship's hold, but they had no idea of ​​his exact location or even which cabin he was in. They could only search slowly, area by area, in this vast, maze-like cargo ship.

The cargo ship was enormous, its compartments a labyrinth of steel. Searching for a person within it would be an incredibly difficult task, like finding a needle in a haystack. Fortunately, Sergei was lucky. After walking for about two minutes, he suddenly heard a commotion ahead. His heart leaped with joy; this might be the key to finding Zayev. He quickly found a concealed spot, pressing himself tightly against the wall, his eyes peering intently through the narrow gaps, intently watching the movements ahead.

Soon, a group of people came into his view. Those at the front and back of the group were armed men, dressed in black combat uniforms, gripping various firearms tightly, their expressions wary, their eyes revealing a fierce and brutal nature. They were like well-trained hunting dogs, constantly alert to their surroundings. The middle-aged man walking with his head down in the middle was none other than Zayev, whom they had been desperately searching for. Zayev was of medium build, wearing a dark trench coat and sunglasses. Although his eyes were obscured, his slightly hunched back seemed to exude a sinister and cunning aura.

Sergei hid nearby, watching them approach step by step. His heart pounded with excitement, but he dared not report immediately. The distance was too close; even the faintest sound would likely be detected by their keen ears. If exposed, all previous efforts could be instantly wasted, and the entire mission would be doomed. Therefore, Sergei suppressed his anger and anxiety, like a hunter lurking in the darkness, quietly waiting for them to pass through the passage before him.

Just as Zayev and his group were about to pass completely, Sergei suddenly sprang from his hiding place like a tiger unleashed, his gun spitting fire without hesitation. "Whoosh whoosh whoosh..." A burst of gunfire instantly shattered the silence of the passage, bullets raining down like a storm. Completely unprepared for the sudden appearance of the enemy behind them, the last three or four were instantly felled like wheat being harvested. Their bodies twisted and fell amidst the hail of bullets, accompanied by agonizing screams, blood quickly spreading across the passage floor.

Hearing the gunfire behind them, the militants in front reacted swiftly, like startled wild animals, immediately scattering to either side for cover. Relying on years of combat experience, they quickly adjusted their stance, attempting a counterattack to eliminate Sergei. Sergei, a seasoned soldier, swiftly retreated after firing a burst of bullets, his movements clean and decisive. Now, only three militants remained. Due to the suddenness of the attack, their counterattack was chaotic and disorganized. They frantically fired blindly in the direction of Sergei's hiding place, bullets whistling and sparking against the walls.

This, ironically, gave Sergei excellent opportunities to maneuver. He quickly changed magazines, seized his chance, and peeked out to fire. Sergei's marksmanship was exceptionally accurate; years of combat experience had given him a masterful control over his weapon. Given even a second, he could almost always eliminate an enemy with pinpoint accuracy. His eyes were resolute, his finger steadily pulling the trigger, bullets flying precisely towards the enemy. Another militant fell to Sergei's gun, his body crashing heavily to the ground with a painful groan.

After several rounds of intense firefights, the pipes in the tunnel were riddled with holes, and billowing hot steam instantly enveloped the entire tunnel in a white mist. The scorching steam, like a thick fog, blurred vision, making it difficult for either side to see each other clearly. They could only fire wildly at each other through the smoke. Bullets whistled through the steam, and the entire tunnel seemed to have become a battlefield filled with the aura of death.

However, thanks to his superb skills and rich combat experience, Sergei remained calm even in this chaotic environment. He knew that in such critical moments, a clear mind and sharp judgment were even more crucial. Skillfully using the steam as cover, he slipped out of the passage like a ghost and began to advance. His steps were light and steady, his eyes searching for traces of the enemy through the gaps in the steam. Every subtle movement did not escape his ears, and every blurry figure was within his vigilant range.

As Sergei's side opened fire, the previously silent raid instantly transformed into a fierce battle, where life and death hung in the balance. Both sides were fighting with all their might for their objectives, and every shot, every dodge, could determine the final outcome.

"Damn it." Colonel Ke Chuan, hearing the gunfire, couldn't help but curse. He knew that if there was any commotion on the ship, the armed men on the speedboats following behind would definitely arrive as quickly as possible to provide support. Once enemy reinforcements arrived, the situation would become even more complicated and dangerous. Therefore, the next operation had to be carried out as quickly as possible, striving to complete the mission in the shortest possible time, capture Zayev alive, and take him away from the ship; otherwise, they would be in an even more difficult predicament. A hint of anxiety and decisiveness flashed in Colonel Ke Chuan's eyes. He quickly relayed instructions to his other team members via radio, adjusting the battle plan, attempting to complete the mission before enemy reinforcements arrived. (End of Chapter)