Insufficient balance

  With only fifty meters of buffer, I almost fell straight down at the speed of falling from a four-story building. I pulled out my dagger and slashed it fiercely on the parachute cord. Before my legs touched the ground, I had already curled up into a ball shape. Under the strong inertia, I rolled forward continuously for more than ten meters, sticking to the ground.

  When I finally stopped rolling and scrambled to my feet, I was shocked to find myself in the midst of an enemy anti-aircraft machine gun position. Several ammunition handlers stood agape, staring at me like a visitor from outer space, while even the gunners on the twin-mounted AA guns ceased firing, pointing at me and shouting something that could only be "Come quick, we have an intruder, kill him!"

  These guys were in the midst of a heated battle, already mid-November's early winter, most people only wore military vests, one by one carrying heavy ammunition boxes back and forth. To save trouble, their submachine guns were all placed on the empty ground next to the heavy machine gun. Looking at these poor worms with no lethal weapons in hand, I let out a sneer, suddenly pulling out the Desert Eagle pistol from my body, shooting the artilleryman sitting on the anti-aircraft machine gun's head into a pulp, then turning the muzzle and mercilessly slaughtering them.

  "What the f**k, aren't you Indians fond of playing ambush? I'll ambush in now and let you kill me, see if you can get enough of killing or not, haha... Otherwise, people will say you're a bunch of cowards. You have a group of people while I'm alone, why are you running away? Come back and kill me!"

  I burst out laughing, my right hand holding the Desert Eagle pistol like a shepherd's staff, herding a group of Indian soldiers wearing only a small vest, running wildly in all directions. Whenever I see someone trying to retrieve the assault rifle, I'll be the first to greet him with bullets. My left hand holds a sharp military knife, and every time the pistol runs out of ammo and I'm replacing the magazine, some idiot always tries to resist, and with one hand, I lift those malnourished-looking guys like a chicken and slowly slit their throats with my knife. Throwing these trash on the ground, their bodies will still convulse for half a day before they finally die.

  "Treading on seven or eight corpses, I pointed at those soldiers running around and shouted wildly: 'What kind of world military power are you? You're just a bunch of stupid pigs, it's annoying to kill you with one shot and one knife!'"

  I leapt onto the dual-mounted heavy machine gun operating platform, kicking the corpse of the gunner three or four meters away with one foot. Grabbing the elevation handle, I wildly spun it around, slowly lowering the barrel of the heavy machine gun until I adjusted it to a horizontal position. I aimed the muzzle at another anti-aircraft machine gun thirty meters away, not caring that there were dozens of tree trunks as thick as bowls in between. In a fit of mad laughter, I forcefully pulled the trigger.

  A twin-mounted heavy machine gun suddenly spewed out a flame tongue over a foot long, and for a moment, my ears were filled with the angry roar of the machine gun, almost unable to hear any other sound. The two hands were like crazy sheep's head, frantically shaking, bullets crazily pouring out, more than half a foot long, hitting the rows of big trees, the tree trunks suddenly bursting in half, and dozens of big trees fell down in the shocking roar. Behind the trees, those Indian soldiers had not yet understood what was happening, and were swept into the pocket of the god of death by his scythe without any hesitation.

  After a box of bullets was fired, I jumped off the operating table, picked up an assault rifle and an Indian-made military uniform, put it on my body and shouted loudly, mixed in with the group of rubbish that had almost been scared to death. In the anti-aircraft position, I ran around wildly, running and suddenly stopping, throwing a "hissing" white smoke hand grenade next to the anti-aircraft machine gun or anti-aircraft gun, or throwing it into the high pile of ammunition boxes. Wherever I ran, there were soldiers' dying screams and loud explosions, one after another bright flames rising from the anti-aircraft position. In the chaos, no one knew how many Chinese troops had broken in, anyway, later on everyone was shouting and running wildly.

  When the soldiers finally found out that I, dressed in Indian military uniform, was shooting at "my own people", they also picked up their guns. These guys who only knew how to aim and shoot at enemy planes basically had no real military training, and after so many years of peace, when did they ever see such a hot and intense scene with real bullets flying everywhere? In the end, these soldiers who were about to go crazy would just fire indiscriminately at anyone holding a weapon and looking young enough, regardless of whether it was three or seven or twenty-one shots. The entire battlefield became even more chaotic and intense. Death himself seemed to be enjoying the show next to me, his mouth wide open in laughter, as if thinking about awarding me some kind of "Best Butcher" prize.

  Behind the soldiers who were running around like headless flies, I finished one magazine after another. When there was no more ammunition, I picked up a rifle from the ground at random. When there were no more grenades, I simply carried a high-explosive shell on my shoulder. After targeting, I rushed forward with all my might, and as long as the force was great enough, the shell would explode like a grenade, its power far exceeding that of an ordinary grenade. If I hadn't dodged in time, I'm afraid I would have been blown up by my own attack.

  The commander of the Indian army, who had full authority over this ambush operation, was completely stunned by the chaotic anti-aircraft position. He couldn't understand how the first Chinese paratroopers to jump became targets and were still floating down while shaking in mid-air. What other method could the Chinese military use to break through the layered fortifications of trenches and barbed wire along the border and directly penetrate their core, apart from airborne operations?

  The current situation can no longer afford him to think twice, although he knows that once the order is given, the defensive line will be torn open, but he cannot bear to watch the entire anti-aircraft battalion being wiped out by the enemy. The commander slammed his fist on the table and shouted: "Deploy a motorized regiment to support the anti-aircraft position immediately! Report to headquarters at once, our intelligence was wrong, more Chinese troops have invaded!"

  I don't know how many anti-aircraft guns and cannons I destroyed, nor do I know how many Indian soldiers I killed. Anyway, half of the entire air defense position was on fire, and not a single cannon or gun was still intact to face the transport planes flying in the sky. After scattering white flowers everywhere, 15-16 transport planes formed a much smaller V-shape and hastily retreated.

  With such a trash army, they are still dreaming of the strategic fantasy of going west and defending north, and they dare to fight against Pakistan and China at the same time? With such a trash army, they also dare to mock Chinese soldiers for losing the spirit of the Mao Zedong era, and being corrupted by reform and opening up and economic waves? With such a trash army, they have been daring to show off their military strength on the border line, constantly provoking and even attacking Chinese border defense troops?

  Shouldn't they be taught a lesson? They've really forgotten that they're Indian, have they?

  As I ran, suddenly a bright spot appeared in front of me. On the open space where several anti-aircraft armored vehicles were concentrated, there was a semi-underground fortification made of sandbags and camouflage nets. What else could it be but their regimental command post? The commander wearing the regimental uniform was shouting loudly under the guard of several soldiers, unfortunately his commanding ability was really not enough to give the soldiers the safety they needed.

  I pulled out something and aimed at him, tossing it lightly over, shouting loudly: "Hey, baozi (with filling), re de (will explode)!"

  If I had thrown the thing hard, he would have instinctively dodged, but seeing me flash a sinister smile at him, this idiot actually gave me a silly, self-satisfied grin, catching the gift I threw at him with an extremely cool gesture. When he finally saw that the smoking object was a hand grenade, his smile froze on his face, followed by a loud explosion, and he and several guards fell into a pool of blood together.

  I burst into the command post with my submachine gun, several communication soldiers were so excited that they almost tied their vocal cords to the microphone, one by one, their faces flushed, their voices loud enough to participate in an international male soprano competition, I guess they were desperately asking for a lifesaving treasure from some big shot somewhere, but no one had any spare time to deal with this uninvited guest.

  I didn't want to disturb them either, so I left five or six hand grenades behind and quietly retreated outside. As the sound of armor tracks rapidly approached along the highway, I threw away my Indian-made uniform with its characteristic musky smell and grabbed two submachine guns before quickly dashing into the forest behind me.

  Less than five minutes after I started running, I suddenly heard the sound of guns being cocked. I rolled on the ground and hid behind a large tree, shouting loudly: "You're looking for me!"

  The person opposite quickly replied: "Hakuna Matata!"

  This is our secret code, how's that, isn't it very personalized? This dirty Japanese guy has to memorize it.

  "Is it Brother Fu Yuxue?"

  I rushed out with a mix of surprise and excitement, but the leader of the opposing side wasn't Chang Sun Ting, who was it? I pounced forward and hugged him tightly, at this moment, being able to see him was like a mouse seeing rice. Behind him followed five or six soldiers, including the one whose crossbow I had snatched earlier, he was carrying a large quiver on his back but only held a small handgun in his hand.

  Chang Sun Ting said somewhat dejectedly, "Lieutenant was shot by a stray bullet and sacrificed before he even jumped off the plane. I've been searching for half a day and only managed to gather these few brothers. Yang Qing has already gotten separated from us."

  I looked at my watch, the hour hand was already pointing to 3 o'clock in the morning, and in three hours it would be daylight. At that time, our raiding troops scattered within a radius of tens of kilometers will have nowhere to hide. If we cannot reunite with the main force, we will inevitably be eliminated one by one by the Indian army's motorized forces relying on their high mobility.

  I asked in a low voice: "Who has the map?"