Chapter 107: Iron Will

Raising his right hand, forming a perfect ninety-degree angle with his body, Lynn squinted his left eye while widening his right, aiming with half vision and half feeling, and fired two shots in quick succession.

"Sorry about this, buddy! But your timing couldn't be worse!"

In the blink of an eye, his left hand leveled, arm extended, while the corner of his eye calculated the position. Dealing with the front, he then swiftly turned his head to the left in a lightning-fast Latin dance motion. Amidst the spark of electricity, his suddenly widened left eye quickly locked onto the target's precise position. At this moment, every neuron was fully engaged, allowing him to make the final adjustment to his aim in the shortest possible time. Human reactions have limits, and if the Soviet soldier on his left had pulled the trigger upon seeing Lynn, victory in this battle might have been his. Unfortunately, holding the loaded "MP40," the young and fearless Russian soldier instinctively aimed his gun—a fatal mistake for him, facing the German "Night Stalker" on the other side. Lynn, having undergone a month of battlefield training amidst blood and fire, and learning practical skills from the "Vampire" assault team, combined with his strong survival instincts and exceptionally calm mind, would never miss such an opportunity, preferring efficiency over redundancy.

Bang bang...

Two shots in quick succession—one through the chest, one through the abdomen. As hot blood sprayed from the wounds, Lynn shifted his weight to the left, simultaneously stepping back with his right foot, using it as a pivot point, and turning his body clockwise. At this moment, the third Soviet soldier flanking from the right squeezed the trigger. As the first bullet was fired, the unattractive metallic bolt of the PPS-42 began its reciprocating motion at a rate of 105 rounds per minute. Each bullet, propelled from the barrel, spun rapidly due to the combined effect of gunpowder and rifling, creating invisible ripples in the air, tracing what appeared to be a perfectly straight trajectory. However, apart from the first shot, subsequent rounds experienced slight dispersion due to the recoil-induced muzzle jump.

It was this natural dispersion that saved Lynn from becoming a "human sieve." Nonetheless, the ruthless bullet instantly pierced through the "Black Pea" uniform's quality material, tearing through the previously pristine flesh with immense force, penetrating internal organs without touching bones.

As intense pain radiated from his right arm, Lynn's earlier psychological preparation could not prevent his deep shock. His body, along with both arms, had not completed their intended action, and the impact of the bullet caused him to lose balance instantly. His right hand, as if struck by a heavy blow, almost lost its grip on the gun, with the muzzle pointing off course. However, the advantage of having two guns became evident. With his right arm injured and both eyes involuntarily closing due to external stimuli, Lynn continued to move his left hand instinctively. Despite the close-range burst of submachine gun fire, he resolutely pulled the trigger with the intent to survive—under continuous fire, the force exerted by his index finger demonstrated the formidable combat power of the "MP40" as a submachine gun. Despite the uncontrolled muzzle jump, one bullet still hit its target with an unexpected headshot!

With the inertia of the relentless gunfire, the submachine gun in the Soviet soldier's hand continued to roar, while Lynn's left hand, holding the shotgun, fired more rounds in succession. Each bullet lost its target, either embedding itself in the soil or flying into the void, soon disappearing without a trace.

As the gunfire ceased, Lynn collapsed into the mud pit. At that moment, he felt as if his life no longer belonged to him, and the grim reaper cloaked in black seemed to appear before him. However, after a moment, his consciousness cleared slightly, and although his right shoulder still throbbed with intense pain, his arm, wrist, and fingers were still functional. He wanted to rest for a moment, even just a few seconds, but a voice from deep within reminded him: get up, this is the battlefield, danger is not over, hesitation could mean death!

Using his left hand to support himself, Lynn struggled to get up. The three Soviet soldiers who had climbed the hilltop had all fallen, but fortunately, this group had only a few left. Squinting in the moonlight, Lynn saw that apart from the one who was shot in the head, the others were not dead yet. One was struggling, while the other was convulsing.

Injured beasts often fall into a state of uncontrollable frenzy, but Lynn did not. He calmly observed the two Soviet soldiers, convinced that they were temporarily not a threat to him. Gritting his teeth, he climbed out of the pit, his right arm hanging limp, his back hunched, and took a few quick steps forward, trying to leap lightly but ending up heavy-footed as he jumped into another pit. The body of the Soviet sentry facing the pit wall remained unchanged. Leaning against the pit wall, the half-leaning position made him feel much easier. At this moment, it was neither convenient nor appropriate to use the mirror. He tilted his head out to take a look at the front.

It was obvious that because there had been companions coming up before, these Soviet soldiers neither fired nor threw grenades. They just maintained a cautious posture of bowing their heads and bending their waists. The machine guns and mortars in the woods behind also paused firing due to the same concerns. Such opportunities were naturally rare. Despite the more intense pain caused by every movement of his right arm, Lynn still endured and reached into his pocket for the last grenade. Unlike the previous two F1 grenades, this one was an RG-42 assault grenade, which was also widely equipped by the Soviet army. Its projectile was like a round can with a slightly smaller cross-section and a taller head, with a long and thin pull ring inserted on top. The high-explosive explosive inside this grenade was more than twice that of the F1, but due to the different fragmentation pattern, the effective killing range was slightly smaller.

Putting down the left hand holding the shotgun for a moment, Lynn used his right index finger to pull the grenade ring, then awkwardly threw it forward, quickly lowered his head, and picked up the shotgun again. When the grenade exploded (with a delay of 3.2 to 4 seconds), he suddenly flipped over, kneeled with his right knee, and held the shotgun flat with his left hand. This "Chinese move" had been practiced countless times by him in the dormitory and shooting range of the assault team headquarters, and even on the way here. Although he still lacked accuracy in shooting, the posture was absolutely guaranteed.

Today was an opportunity to teach the Russians a lesson, but unfortunately, Lynn's right arm was injured, so he could only practice with his left hand, which he was not good at. However, when he saw the scene clearly, his burden suddenly lightened by half. The Soviet soldiers who had previously been close to each other were now either lying down or crawling, completely silent.

Seeing his comrades being slaughtered, the Soviet soldiers in the woods were unwilling to let it go. The "DShK" machine gun barked like a ferocious dog smelling strangers, and the mortars originally used to ambush the German night assault troops also fired fiercely. The top of the hill was just this small place. Under the intense gunfire, mud and bark flew everywhere. Lynn honestly stayed in the pit, his right arm already numb with pain, which was not a good thing. He quickly took out the first aid kit, endured the intense pain of the wound, pressed the hemostatic cotton on the wound in front, and then simply bandaged it with a bandage. Because he could only use his left hand and it was the first time he had treated himself, the roughness could be imagined. After doing all this, he felt a little better, so he took out a cigarette from his pocket, ignored the mud and sand falling like rain, lit it, took a deep drag, and finally felt relieved!

Before finishing smoking a cigarette, the Soviet guns and artillery did not stop, but bursts of gunfire came from behind, not too far away. In terms of time, Eric and the others should have withdrawn from the village, and I don't know how many casualties they had. More importantly, they wouldn't be single-minded and really run away as he said!

Thinking of this, Lynn not only did not feel discouraged but also gave himself a calm bitter smile. Well, anyway, being an invincible hero for once, what regrets are there?