Four or five hours after Zhan Xia Ge and Zhao Haiping left, the joint pursuit force, guided by the Afghan guerrillas, also used their own methods to find this valley with abundant salty water resources. Seeing the waterhole filled with stagnant water, more than two dozen Afghan guerrillas let out a cheer of excitement together.

Although the Joint Pursuit Force received several helicopter material supports, the Chechen [***] forces are now overstretched and can provide them with limited supplies, and the force is so numerous that on average each person actually does not carry enough fresh water and rations.

These Afghan guerrillas, who had survived and grown up from the war, tested the water source with their own unique methods, and after making sure that the [***] people had not poisoned the water source, they filled a sheepskin bag with a layer of gravel, and then picked up a few pieces of charcoal from the fire pit they left behind, crushed them, spread a layer of charcoal powder, and finally pressed a layer of fine sand three or four inches thick, so that they made a dozen simple but very effective distilled water filters.

Little by little, the fresh water extracted by the Afghan guerrillas flowed out from under the parchment tubes, and the water was quickly distributed to everyone's water bottles. An Afghan guerrilla respectfully brought freshly processed water to the white-bearded guerrilla leader. The guerrilla leader then passed the freshwater to the female guerrillas in the ranks, and this freshwater was passed from the female guerrillas to their youngest and most cared for members.

Under the gentle gaze of all the Afghan guerrillas, the youngest of them was the one who took a jug full of fresh water and drank it slowly in small sips. And the rest of the combined forces, sitting in the sunless corner of the valley, shaking their own kettle that had obviously gained weight, could not help but crane their necks and pour the not-so-very good tasting fresh water into their stomachs.

Suddenly, a Russian military water bottle with green paint on its surface had peeled off and was left with a soft "dang" sound.

The Afghan guerrilla who was the first to drink water clutched his stomach with a strange face, sweat the size of a bean rolled down his forehead, his body shrunk into a bow with spasms, and his gaze slowly moved from the military kettle he had accidentally dropped on the ground to the face of the Afghan guerrilla leader.

He opened his mouth wide to say something, but there were only a few gasps from his mouth, and he reached out to wipe his nose, because he didn't know when, blood was already flowing from his nostrils. He stretched out his hand again to wipe his hot and sticky ears, and when he found that even his own ears were bleeding thin blood lines, this young guerrilla with rich experience in guerrilla warfare and terrorist attacks no longer had a trace of despair on his face.

At the same time, there was a groan among the soldiers of the joint pursuit force who were hiding in dark corners and resting, and thirty or forty soldiers who had received fresh water from the Afghan guerrillas and put it into their stomachs had all fallen to the ground!

A terrorist of the "East Turkistan Liberation Organization" was holding his stomach and rolling on the ground desperately, while glaring at his eyes full of fear, and screamed in despair: "Isn't this the 'Jihad No. 1' that our jihadist organization has just developed, and the effect is obviously powerful, and it is ready to be thrown into Chinese cities to carry out a reading jihad?" Why does our self-developed 'Holy War One' appear in my kettle?! I don't want to die, my stomach is really ...... It hurts! ”

Thirty or forty people were rolling on the ground, viscous blood flowing from their eyes, ears, noses, and mouths, and the whole valley was filled with screams and wails that barely resembled those of humans. In the middle was the terrible sound of some "East Turkistan Liberation Organization" terrorists who knew the poison of "Jihad No. 1" and slammed their heads against the rocks.

The soldiers who were poisoned by the Afghan guerrillas and the Chechen army still had a glimmer of hope for survival in their hearts, but those "East Turkistan Liberation Organization" terrorists knew that they were doomed, and they were doomed!

In the European and American markets, Amirali, the No. 3 leader of the "East Turkistan Liberation Organization," hired a group of talented and unscrupulous scum in the scientific community to improve and evolve the "Jihad No. 1" biochemical poison based on the chemical weapons left in China by the Black Sun 731 bacteriological unit during World War II, which can completely destroy the human blood function in just a few minutes. The reason why this "Jihad No. 1" biochemical poison can become Amirali's most valued "jihad" weapon is that it not only has a terrible and deadly surname, but also causes the poisoned person the most intense pain, and it will struggle for at least four or five hours before he will die like a ghost. It can be said that if this kind of "Jihad No. 1" can be successfully launched in China's border cities, its psychological deterrent effect on those urban residents who have been peaceful for a long time will be greater than its actual killing effect.

But now this terrible biochemical poison has been dropped on their joint pursuit force. The East Turkistan Liberation Organization (ETMA) terrorists were so poisoned that they reached out to their throats and stared with pleading eyes at their comrades who were not poisoned, but who did not know how to help them.

"Bang!"

A light gunshot rang out in the valley, and a terrorist of the "East Turkistan Liberation Organization" who was holding his companion and hissing constantly with a "ho-ho" sound in his mouth slowly lay on the ground of this valley, blood continued to spurt out from his body that had been pierced by bullets, his body slowly stretched out, and at this moment, a smile actually appeared on his face.

He was finally relieved.

In the midst of a frantic roar, a veteran of the Chechen [***] army, he picked up the bayonet on the automatic rifle in his hand and stabbed it into the chest of his brother who had fallen beside him and had fought side by side. In the sigh of relief and the sound of blood splattering, the tears in the veteran's eyes also splashed out.

Looking at the brother who was lying on the ground and stabbed to death by his own hands, this veteran threw off the automatic rifle with blood on the bayonet in his hand, sat in a pool of blood, and hugged the still warm corpse in a daze...... Chechen Nisca, don't cry for me!

The masculine mountains of the Caucasus bear witness to me,

I'm not dead.

How can a man who becomes Shehede die?

Forgotten,

Allah has long made a covenant with us,

He who became Sheherid did not die.

My beloved girl,

Don't cry,

It's just a farewell,

What Tatar boy would want to leave the sacred land of his dreams?

I have traveled to Mecca,

Allah is calling again,

This time I don't want to delay any longer,

I quietly left.

……

Low and powerful, full of fighting passion, and with a kind of tragic and tender singing of life and death, it echoed repeatedly in the valley, and more and more Chechen veterans hugged the brothers who had fought side by side with their own hands, and sat in a pool of blood and began to sing in a low voice.

Gradually, their songs converged into a torrent of history that once swept the whole of Russia, and gradually, their songs converged into a howling tide, which repeatedly stirred in this valley.

In the valley, gunshots are constantly ringing out, and people are constantly joining this singing.

A Chechen veteran took out a letter from his liberated brother's pocket, and according to the unwritten practice among these Chechen veterans who were accustomed to life and death, the veteran unfolded the letter and read it slowly in his trembling voice.

Dear Father, let me kiss your hand!

I am now fighting in the darkness alongside my brothers in the vanguard, and we are fighting hard to reach our better tomorrow in the midst of thorns and blood. We are not afraid of hunger, nor of the cold, nor of the dark, nor of death.

Thank you for allowing me to dedicate myself to freedom, to fight for my ideals, those robbers, who killed our babies, who took our bread, who insulted our people, who committed many crimes against us, but who still wanted us to be cannon fodder, to become cannon fodder in foreign lands for their so-called "justice" and "justice"!

Father, bless your son!

He is shedding his blood for our people, for our country, for our Chechen Nissia fight! We fought side by side because we believed that sooner or later we would cast out all evil demons and we would proudly put the crown of glory on the heads of our fathers.

Suppose one day, I die; If one day, I walk on the devil's gallows with my brothers in the vanguard, please take back our blood-stained clothes and cut them into strips of cloth, and I believe that there will be more brothers who are unwilling to submit to the devil, carry on our last wishes, wear strips of cloth stained with our blood, and blow the battle horn to the devils!

Father, if I die, please don't grieve for me.

Compared with those who sacrificed for their faith, for dignity and honor, how pitiful we are for survival. When I die, please rejoice for me, because your son has entered the ideal kingdom of heaven.

……

At this moment, in the Chechen guerrillas, everyone's eyes were shining, and although the entire valley was full of bloody ghosts, their faces were full of proud smiles. The "East Turkistan Liberation Organization" (ETO), who could understand Russian, softly translated every sentence of the letter to his companions. Almost everyone was surrounded by an atmosphere of "sacredness".

They fought for their people, for their homeland, for their fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters, and in that they were honored. But for the sake of their loved ones, for so-called political purposes, they put on the cloak of religion, summoned believers to shoot at unarmed innocents, dropped bombs on buses full of innocents, hijacked innocent planes and crashed into the World Trade Center for many more innocent people.

When they chose this absolutely perverse method, used religious extremism to incite their followers, and did not hesitate to trample on the happiness and freedom of others to express their own ideas of struggle and pursue their own happiness and freedom, they have deeply engraved a brand of no disgrace on their bodies...... Terrorist!

Today, they met a professional soldier who also did not play his cards according to the rules of the cards, and felt that the strategic methods of terrorists were useful, so they took them and used them directly!

The Afghan guerrilla captain picked up the military kettle he had captured from the Russian servicemen from the ground, picked up a drop of water from the kettle with his fingers, and flicked it on a sand ant crawling on the ground. The sand ant, covered in droplets, struggled to wrestle through the droplets, but it soon lay down in the tiny stains.

The veteran guerrilla, who had experienced nine years of war in Afghanistan, frowned and walked around the valley, his eyes falling on the fire pit left in the valley by two Chinese. The Afghan guerrilla leader walked briskly, put on a pair of sheepskin gloves, and picked up a small piece of charcoal from the fire. He slowly crushed the piece of charcoal, and then sprinkled the charcoal powder on several swarms of sand mosquitoes that traveled together. The sand ants that were drenched with charcoal powder suddenly stiffened, and soon their whole bodies shrank into a ball and did not move.

Several of the guerrillas who gathered around the Afghan guerrilla leader had round eyes, and they stared for a long time before some of them threw off their sheepskin bags and cried loudly.

An Afghan guerrilla rushed to the fire, staring at his blood-red eyes and crying: "Devil, devil, you two devils, I will not let you go!" Bet on our dignity, for our Allah, for our jihad, for our brothers and sisters, I will definitely make you pay a terrible price, I will definitely kill you! ”

The guerrilla raised his big foot and stomped on the charcoal in the fire, as if he were stepping on two Chinese devils at this moment.

The charcoal ash in the fire pit was trampled by the Afghan guerrilla and flew around, and the Afghan guerrilla leader couldn't help frowning, but before he could stop shouting, suddenly with the fire pit as the core, a cloud of gunpowder mixed with the smell of hot steel rose into the sky, and the guerrilla hugged his broken thigh, and he screamed and rolled on the ground with all his might.

Looking at the charcoal-stained wounds of the partisan, the captain silently drew his bayonet and plunged it into the chest of his own compatriot.

When this picture was transmitted to the public stage in the West through military satellites, the special forces of more and more countries also began to broadcast their edited videos to the soldiers, and a senior special forces instructor directly said to the soldiers he trained: "Boys, keep my eyes open and learn a little, otherwise you will not even know how to die when you encounter such an enemy!" ”

There is also a special forces instructor who is proficient in special operations and has an almost legendary experience, and after watching TV for three days, he directly invested all his savings in Las Vegas, the largest casino owner opened a stall, and he also pressed his bet on a hundred times the odds. He said to the people around him: "Don't look at the number of terrorists, and there are Afghans who grow up in the desert as guides, but they can only chase after the two [***] people all the way, they are miserable!" ”

Zhan Xia Ge found an underground water vein, he first grabbed a handful of sand with water, put them in his mouth and directly sucked the water inside, and then found a piece of cotton cloth with strong water absorption, folded it and put it into his steel helmet, and then buckled the steel helmet upside down on the sand containing water, using this method, he extracted nearly one liter of precious fresh water from the arid desert in an hour.

The Afghans, who have lived in the mountains and deserts since childhood, are of course also very proficient in the skill of finding water veins, and they use almost the same method as the war song to extract fresh water from the sand containing water, but when an Afghan game player can't wait to open his mouth and squeeze the fresh water from the cotton cloth into his mouth, the Afghan guerrillas lose another member.

The Song of War sprinkled the "Holy War No. 1" poison in the sand.

Tall cacti can often be seen in the desert, these cacti are rich in sap, but their juice contains a stimulant-like play, and once you drink it, you will go insane.

He instructed Zhao Haiping to carefully cut off a few cacti with a fighting saber, mash them with stones, bury them in the sand with a surface temperature of more than 60 degrees Celsius, and then buckle his steel helmet to the sand. Using this simple method, he extracted fresh water that had been distilled and filtered by sand, and although it could not absolutely remove the substances in the cactus juice, it could be mixed with other fresh water and could barely control the limits of human acceptance.

When the joint forces of terrorists who were following Zhan Xia Ge and Zhao Haiping in hot pursuit ran here, Zhan Xia Ge and Zhao Haiping even left them a few cacti.

The Afghan guerrilla leader ordered with a calm face: "After cutting down the cactus, first carefully check whether the [***] person has been poisoned." ”

Several members of the team ran over with machetes used by Afghans in their hands, and with a swing of their knives, the cactus with a bowl mouth was cut off at the waist, and an Afghan guerrilla with a machete in his hand suddenly widened his eyes, and he only had time to shout: "There is an ambush!" ”

The warrior song hid in a cactus and made a delicate camouflage, and the grenade that had pulled out the safety bolt exploded violently, and the guerrilla with cactus juice and blood all over his body, after struggling for a long time, still stared at a pair of big, dead eyes, and slowly straightened his body.

Chopping a cactus can also cut a grenade, and his luck is indeed enough to carry it!!

(To be continued)