Chapter 159 Section 157

It is not difficult to see from the electronic map that this is a courtyard dedicated to storing items. The courtyard is surrounded by three-meter-high, half-meter-thick concrete walls, and under each wall there is a sewer that only children can pass through.Dense barbed wire and broken glass were stretched across the walls.In the middle of the yard is a three-story red brick building, and the rest of the place is full of herbs that burn like fire.Needless to say, everyone knew that it was more than ten acres of poppies. It is these ten acres of poppies that often make 30-year-old Vietnamese Ruan Wenming indulge in boundless fantasies.

He always likes to hold an AK-47 automatic rifle, sit alone on the ridge of the flower field, and enjoy the quiet time at night.He seemed to be able to see his wife and son who were far away in Vietnam from the poppies growing wildly in the sky. Their smiles were as beautiful as red poppy petals.In the harvest season in the second half of the year, poppies dye the entire sky red.He can get a lot of money from bursts of poisonous fragrance.Only money can exchange for a happy life for yourself and your family. This night, for no reason, he took the poppy flower as his wife. He fantasized that the flower buds were his wife's plump breasts, and he fantasized about the wet poppy stems, which flowed out sweet and fragrant juice, which would make him linger.This fantasy was his only comfort when he was a mercenary on the African battlefield.

This kind of fantasy made him walk happily on the patrol road at two o'clock in the morning.The patrol route is to go around the courtyard wall ten times in the compound, and then wake up the next shift of brothers on duty. The person walking with him on the patrol road today was a Burmese terrorist. The two communicated very little, except for occasional gestures. When the two reached the north corner of the yard, Ruan Wenming stretched out his arms and yawned.Suddenly, Ruan Wenming heard a tiny sound of breaking through the air.In an instant, every pore on his body opened, and cold air came out from the pores.That voice, that is the voice from hell.He had heard and witnessed the tragic death of countless mercenaries on the African battlefield, but he couldn't find the killer. However, this voice was always accompanied by the disappearance of those battlefield souls.

It was the silenced sound of a sniper rifle. Ruan Wenming instinctively dodged back, and at this moment, only heard a "pounce". A red mist of blood filled the air.The Burmese who was walking ahead of him had a large hole punched through his chest.The Burmese's body slammed into the wall and bounced off the wet ground.The Burmese's legs twitched a few times on the ground, and did not move again. "Wow", a human body gently fell to the ground.Ruan Wenming, who has rich combat experience, heard the faint sound and knew something was wrong, so he immediately rolled on the spot, trying to avoid the attack from behind.

The start of this roll is wonderful, even a little gymnast.Ruan Wenming's hands touched the ground first, then his head, then his shoulders, then his back, and now his buttocks... But at this moment, his butt didn't land on the ground, but stopped in mid-air comically, with his legs upside down, like a tortoise whose shell had been turned over.Ruan Wenming felt a huge force against his buttocks, pressing his whole body to the ground. He also heard wheezing and wheezing. This is definitely not a human sound. Thinking of this, every hair on his body stood up. What kind of mandrill ghost is this?

At this moment, the barrel of a cold Type 95 automatic rifle gently raised his chin.