Go back in time and be a chaebol

Chapter 2490 SAS's Show of Skill (Second Update, Please Subscribe)
The night was as dark as ink, spilling across the rolling mountains of northern Lebanon.

The rotors of three Black Hawk helicopters sliced ​​through the air, their engines humming and echoing dully in the valley as they flew low along the ridgeline. Their dark gray paint blended seamlessly with the mountain silhouettes.

SAS Captain John Reed sat by the hatch of helicopter number one, his left hand firmly resting on his thigh, an M16 carbine fitted with a suppressor. Inside, the team members sat either at the open hatch or inside the cabin; they were all SAS elites, and no one spoke, only the sound of the helicopter engines.

"15 minutes to the descent zone, altitude 1200 meters. Maintain covert flight path. Get ready."

The pilot's voice came through the throat microphone.

John nodded slightly, his gaze drifting out the porthole. The rolling mountains resembled a sleeping giant python, with occasional scattered points of light amidst the undulating peaks—local villages, and also hiding places for militants. Unbeknownst to him, as they had just flown over those mountains, several militants were intently watching the departing helicopter formation through binoculars.

"They're helicopters! Three British Black Hawks!"

The bearded militant yelled into the walkie-talkie:
"Flying northwest! Get everyone ready!"

Another militant reported the helicopter's course and approximate altitude. The walkie-talkie signal bounced through the valleys and eventually reached the militant stronghold dozens of kilometers away.

Although the coalition has been conducting electronic surveillance, the focus is on the Syrian army and the PLO, where there are hundreds of armed groups using various handheld radios with extremely chaotic channels, making effective surveillance virtually impossible.

The British rear liaison base also found nothing amiss. After all, these militants communicated daily using handheld radios. These handheld radios, manufactured by the SEA, while not military-grade, were more advanced than Russian military radios and had been favored by militaries and militants worldwide for many years.

Furthermore, they have mastered techniques such as short-term communication to avoid being eavesdropped on.

There were no alarms. The aircraft gradually descended, approaching the designated landing point—an open grassland on the edge of a valley. Any rescue operation would land at a certain distance from the target to avoid alerting it.

"Prepare for landing, remain alert."

John gave a low shout, and the team members immediately tensed up, gripping their M16 carbines tightly with their silencers pointed at the darkness outside the hatch.

When the helicopter was still a meter above the ground, John was the first to leap out of the cabin. The instant his feet touched the ground, he rolled over, his M16 carbine already pointed at the forest ahead. The team members followed closely behind, deploying in tactical formation, their movements as swift as cheetahs, establishing a circular defensive perimeter in just three seconds.

After all the team members disembarked, John whispered into the communicator:
"Attention all units, proceed according to the pre-arranged plan, infiltrate on foot to the target church, move quickly, remain concealed, and eliminate any enemy encountered."

With the help of night vision goggles, the team members quickly traversed the towering mountains, steadily approaching their target location.

When they reached the halfway point up the mountain, one of the team members suddenly raised his hand to signal a stop, his gaze fixed on a dark figure behind the bushes on the right. John followed his gaze and saw an armed man leaning against a tree trunk, smoking. The glow of his cigarette flickered in the darkness, and his AK-47 was slung across his shoulder. He was clearly unaware of the impending danger.

John slowly raised his M16 carbine, aimed the scope at the other man's chest, and gently pulled the trigger.

With a soft "thud, thud," the silencer perfectly suppressed the gunshot, leaving only the faint sound of bullets whizzing through the air. The militant's body stiffened abruptly; he didn't even have time to utter a sound before collapsing straight into the bushes. The team members didn't stop, continuing their rapid advance as if they had merely cleared a stumbling block.

Twenty minutes later, the outline of the church appeared in the night.

The ancient stone building stood in the middle of the valley, its spire pointing straight to the night sky, its walls riddled with bullet holes and the marks of time. John raised his hand to signal the group to stop, making a "reconnaissance" gesture. Two team members immediately broke away from the group and slipped into the shadows around the church like ghosts.

A few minutes later, a whisper came through the communicator: "Two guards behind the east wall, armed with AK47s; one guard by the west gate; three guards on the first floor inside the church; no targets found on the second floor yet; the entrance to the basement is at the back of the church, guarded by one guard."

John nodded, his fingertips quickly tracing the attack route on the tactical tablet, then he assigned tasks to his teammates using hand gestures. The team members advanced in a fan shape, their movements as light as ghosts.

The two guards on the east flank were talking in hushed tones, completely unaware of their impending doom. The two SAS members responsible for the attack on the east flank simultaneously raised their guns, their scopes locked onto the heads of the two men. Almost at the same time, two muffled thuds rang out, and the two guards fell to the ground.

In just a short while, they had taken care of the outer guards.

John made a "charge" gesture. The team split into two groups: one to storm the church interior, and the other to head straight for the basement entrance. The wooden church door was smashed open with a battering ram, the loud noise shattering the tranquility of the valley. The militants inside reacted, reaching for their weapons, but they were too slow.

"Puff puff!"

With a soft thud, SAS soldiers opened fire almost simultaneously. Whistling bullets struck the militants in the head and chest; they fell to the cold stone floor before they could even scream, blood spreading rapidly and staining the stone. The entire process took less than a minute, and all the guards inside and outside the church were wiped out.

"Search the basement immediately and find the hostage!"

John gave the order through the communicator.

Two team members quickly moved to the back of the church and used explosives to blast open the iron door to the basement. The door collapsed with a crash, raising clouds of dust. The team members, M16 carbines in hand, cautiously entered the basement. The basement was dimly lit, with only a kerosene lamp hanging from the ceiling providing a faint glow. The air was thick with the smells of mildew and blood. Clutter was piled in the corners, and in the center, a middle-aged man, chained to a stone pillar, was ragged and his face covered in wounds—it was the kidnapped hostage, Halberstam. Hearing the commotion, Halberstam abruptly looked up, his eyes filled with fear and wariness. But when he saw the SAS insignia on the team members' clothing and the weapons in their hands, the fear in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by an incredulous excitement.

"Don't be afraid, we are British special forces, we're here to rescue you."

A team member stepped forward and quickly cut the chains binding Haberstam with a tool.

The moment the chains hit the ground, Halberstam could no longer hold back his tears. He staggered to his feet, gripped his teammates' hands tightly, and said in a choked voice, "Thank you... thank you all... I thought I would never see my family again."

His body trembled incessantly from excitement and prolonged imprisonment, and the scars on his face looked particularly shocking in the light of the kerosene lamp.

"We need to evacuate as soon as possible."

John walked into the basement, looked at the hostages, and said:

How are you feeling? Are you able to move quickly?

Halberstam nodded vigorously, wiping away his tears:
"I can do it, I can walk."

John immediately contacted the helicopter: "This is the Condor Team. The hostages have been successfully rescued. Requesting immediate assistance to the designated evacuation point."

"Received. The helicopter is en route to the evacuation point and is expected to arrive in 5 minutes."

John signaled to his team to escort Halberstam out of the basement and toward the evacuation point. Just as they stepped out of the church doors, the tranquility of the valley was shattered by the distant roar of an engine.

"Alert!" John's heart sank, and he immediately gave the order. The team members quickly surrounded Halberstam, pointing their weapons in the direction from which the sound came.

In the darkness, dozens of armed pickup trucks sped towards the church, their headlights piercing the night. The truck beds were crammed with militants, armed with AK-47s, rocket launchers, and other weapons, their faces masked. The wheels rolled over the ground, kicking up clouds of dust; the sounds of engines, gunfire, and shouts mingled together, creating a terrifying atmosphere.

"There are too many of them, at least two hundred! And they are armed with heavy weapons!"

After observing through the binoculars, the observer reported in a solemn tone.

John's mind raced. He knew that it was virtually impossible for the ten of them to withstand an attack by more than two hundred armed men head-on.

Moreover, the helicopter would take another five minutes to arrive, so they had to hold on for those five minutes no matter what!

"Everyone, establish defensive positions using the church as cover!"

John immediately gave the order:
"Use the stone wall as cover and fire freely!"

The team members immediately sprang into action, quickly taking up advantageous positions.

The church's thick, sturdy stone walls served as a natural defensive fortification. The team members positioned Haberstam in a corner inside the church, under the protection of one member, before climbing the church walls and second-floor windows, raising their rifles, and aiming at the approaching armed pickup truck.

"500 meters away!"

"300 meters!"

The gunfire became crisp and rapid, echoing through the valley. The SAS soldiers' shooting was precise and deadly; bullets whistled out, killing the driver of the first pickup truck instantly. The vehicle lost control, crashed violently into the rocks by the roadside, and overturned. The militants inside were thrown out and instantly crushed by subsequent vehicles, their screams echoing throughout the scene.

The militants immediately stopped their vehicle and returned fire with heavy machine guns. In an instant, the valley was filled with the roar of SMGs, red bullets slicing through the darkness. Even more deadly was the suppressive fire of the 12.7mm heavy machine guns, whose large-caliber bullets easily pierced through the church's stone walls, creating holes like drilling machines.

The intense firepower prevented the SAS special forces members from even raising their heads.

Despite the intense firepower, the pickup trucks behind continued their relentless charge. As one truck approached the church, an armed man hoisted a rocket launcher, aimed it at the church doors, and pressed the fire button. The rocket, trailing a long tongue of fire, whistled towards the church.

"Lie down!" John shouted, and he quickly squatted down as well.

With a deafening roar, the rocket struck the church door, shattering the wooden structure instantly and sending debris and wood chips flying everywhere. Several team members were knocked to the ground by the shockwave, but they quickly got up, wiped the dust off their faces, and continued firing.

(End of this chapter)