I was a general in South America

The forest was as calm as if it had never been disturbed, and the smell of gunpowder from the explosion had long been filtered out.

The three soldiers advanced cautiously, and as Lucas watched their backs, he had a bad feeling.

That's the downside of the ability to sense murderous intent; it only issues a warning when someone harbors murderous intent towards you.

To ensure their safety, Lucas and the others did not dare to stand still, but turned off their military flashlights and crouched under the bushes.

In the dim jungle, only three faint beams of light remained as they searched for the body among the haystacks and bushes.

"Lieutenant, we've found the body...!"

Lucas heard a crackling sound of electricity in his ears, but because they were so close, the soldiers' conversation wasn't completely interrupted.

"However, it seems a few bodies are missing. Should we bring them all out?"

A few bodies are missing?

Something's wrong...!

Does this mean some American soldiers are still alive...?

Lucas was also filled with confusion. Being surrounded by guerrillas in that environment, there was almost no chance of survival.

Is Black an Ultraman?

A light suddenly flashed on his chest, and he led his brothers out to fight their way out?

"Check the body for any problems, and expand the search area by another three meters."

"Sizzle... sizzle... sizzle... Aside from the weapon being taken, no other suspicious traces were found..."

As soon as he finished speaking, Lucas yelled into the radio, "Turn off the lights! Find cover immediately...!"

Who are the Colombian guerrillas? They'd take a couple of hairs from God before leaving. They left behind corpses and didn't take a single penny except for weapons. You know, US military equipment is among the most expensive on the black market.

Given that several bodies have also disappeared, there is only one possibility.

Those people were captured alive!

The guerrillas deliberately left the bodies there; instead of leaving, they waited to see if anyone would return to rescue them.

This didn't fit Lucas's understanding of guerrilla warfare... but who the hell could guarantee that it wasn't just a sudden whim?

Bang...bang!

Sure enough, as the soldiers turned off their lights, gunshots rang out.

Damn it....

They assumed that the Colombian guerrillas were hit-and-run tactics.

Because if someone escapes, they will soon face an even larger army.

Unfortunately, Lucas and his team weren't on a drug bust mission; reliance on past experience can be a fatal mistake...!

It was clear that the group of militants had not escaped, but had captured some of the American troops and were using them to besiege the stronghold and intercept reinforcements.

After two gunshots, the jungle returned to calm.

Warning, or threat?

Lucas couldn't tell, but since the other party had captured a prisoner alive and was still lying in ambush here, they certainly didn't just want to kill him.

"Brother, don't shoot. I'm Colombian too, buddy... You've captured a few people, they're Americans... I can pay the ransom, maybe we can talk."

He shouted at the top of his lungs in Spanish, even with a hint of his native Cali accent, just to make sure the other person recognized him as a fellow countryman.

Sound cannot travel effectively in the dense forest, and Lucas used almost all his strength.

Judging from the equipment on Blake and his men, the guerrillas should know where they came from.

Taking hostages in exchange for ransom is a common tactic used by anti-government armed groups in South America.

The other party did not reply immediately, but several minutes later... a rough voice rang out from the jungle.

"Southerners, tell your boss that three lives are worth 300 million US dollars, and that most arrogant white pig will get an extra 100 million...! To prevent you from escaping, a few of your men must stay behind as hostages."

The other person immediately recognized Lucas's accent; there has always been conflict between southern and northern Colombians.

The cities that are even remotely decent in this country are all concentrated in the north... They often think that southerners are all country bumpkins.

The arrogant white pig is undoubtedly Blake.

How is this idiot still alive?

Since we can talk, that's a good thing...

"Brothers, you guys don't seem to know who they are. They're soldiers from a special operations team under the U.S. Southern Command. They're protecting the U.S. Ambassador to Colombia. I'm worried you might get the money but not live to spend it!"

Brandt Hoffman and George Hoffman are essentially the same, rounded up to the nearest hundredth.

The period before the rainy season is the peak of guerrilla activity. To be honest, it is very difficult for the US military and the Colombian government forces to eliminate these people hiding in the mountains.

But it's easy to make them live worse than animals during the rainy season, just like now... after paying a ransom of 400 million, you'll have to buy things with those green dollars, right?

Guns, ammunition, food, medical supplies, and daily necessities—while food and clothing are difficult to control—other military supplies, after such a horrific incident, require strict control from the source…

Even the most well-connected smugglers have a hard time getting their hands on enough goods.

Originally, we were all on good terms, trading goods and making money together. But if we angered our big spenders, who would dare to lash out right under our noses?

This time, the other party took much longer to think than last time.

"Four million US dollars, not a penny less. The Americans can't scare us. If you don't agree, I'll kill them all."

"Then go ahead and kill him. I just want the body."

"......"

"If you don't agree, none of you will leave...!"

That's the downside of villains; even when they're clearly terrified, they still have to keep up their act.

Lucas didn't care whether Black lived or died. He had already fulfilled Hoffman's instructions, and mainly for the safety of his men, so he had no choice but to continue shouting.

"I'm here to help you, brother... Don't be hostile. Colombians don't cheat Colombians. I also have a grudge against those Americans. Call your boss out... If the price is reasonable, I can provide you with a batch of supplies."

"If you leave my men behind, you'll get nothing. Even if we fight... are you confident you can leave us all here? You won't stop until the troops have searched the mountains and found their bodies."

"Supplies or bullets? We only have one chance!"

threaten?

Lieutenant Lucas never accepts any threats.

One minute...

Two minutes...

Five minutes...

More than ten minutes later, a deep voice broke the tranquility of the jungle.

"Southerner, if you want to talk to me, I'm out here now. Shouldn't we show some sincerity in this negotiation? It's your turn now."

The real deal has arrived...

Upon hearing this, Lucas knew that the plan was in place; all that remained was the number of conditions to be met.

Playing the courage game...?

Who hasn't died once...?

Under Moreno's unwavering gaze, he gently patted the hand that was holding him down and stood up directly from the bushes.

As he spread his arms, the rifle slipped from his hands. Although he couldn't see the figures in the distance due to the dense forest, he had a vague feeling that gun barrels were already pointed at him.

Lucas showed no panic, but instead laughed and shouted.

"Am I sincere enough?"

"Southerner, you've got guts... Aren't you afraid we'll kill you right now?"

"So, do you want to talk now, or do you want to kill me?"