Chapter 60: A Spark Ignites the Prairie (Part 2)

The Afghan guerrilla soldier looked at the two sand jujubes in his hand. He understood that this was a way for the "Assassin Organization" allies to express their friendship. After hesitating for a moment, he still picked out one from the two jujubes that looked smooth and intact, without any scratches, and carefully put it into his own mouth.
The shazao came from the mouth of the Afghan guerrilla fighter, making a "crackling, crackling" sound.
"So, how is it? Sweet, right?"
The corner of the Afghan guerrilla's mouth lifted slightly. Just as the smile on his face had just begun to spread, it was as if someone had kicked him hard in the abdomen—his face instantly turned pale. This battle-hardened Afghan guerrilla fighter, before others could figure out what was going on, flipped the stock of his AK automatic rifle and smashed it hard into his stomach. But at this moment, it felt as if thousands of needles were stabbing wildly inside his body. In this terrifying pain beyond human endurance, his body and hands trembled slightly. He aimed at the gun stock he had smashed down, slicing through his stomach and landing on his ribs.
The Afghan guerrilla raised his automatic rifle again. Just as he was about to smash it down with the butt, the member of the 'Assassin Organization' who had handed him Shazao suddenly grabbed the rifle and shouted urgently, "What's wrong with you? Why are you hitting yourself when you're fine?" You'll hurt yourself like this! ”
The Afghan guerrilla stared fixedly at this bastard in front of him, who had no idea what he had done. It was this bastard who insisted on giving him two poisonous jujubes. Just as he was about to force himself to vomit out the jujubes from his stomach, it was this self-indulgent bastard who cut off his last chance of survival!
The Afghan guerrilla soldier's finger rested on the automatic rifle trigger; as long as he pulled the trigger hard, the bullets fired from the barrel would drag the other party down with him! But seeing the anxious and concerned expression on the face of the "assassin organization" member, and seeing him hastily pull out a nearly black white towel and pour his precious water onto it, trying to wipe the cold sweat from his forehead, the Afghan guerrilla couldn't help but sigh softly in his heart. They chased behind two Chinese soldiers, through dense forests into the desert, fighting side by side for thirty whole days. To say that no real feelings had formed between them under the same enemy would be a lie!
The Afghan guerrilla hesitated, but finally slowly released the automatic rifle's trigger. He clutched his abdomen like an empty pocket and slowly knelt down on the ground. He reached out his trembling hand and pointed at the captain standing in the distance, still unaware of what was happening here. His lips trembled, but at this moment, he could no longer speak. The "assassin organization" member finally got smarter. He straightened his neck and shouted at the Afghan guerrilla leader, who was standing in the distance holding Russian military binoculars, looking at something: "Sir, hurry over! Your subordinates are in trouble!" ”
The Afghan guerrilla leader charged forward like a cheetah. Anyone who hadn't seen this scene could never imagine that a sixty-year-old man could unleash such terrifying explosive power from his seemingly gaunt body. Seeing the Afghan guerrilla soldiers kneeling on the ground, the guerrilla leader widened his eyes and shouted hoarsely, "Awang......"
The Afghan guerrilla captain stretched out his hand and, with the most violent movement, grabbed Awang by the hair as he knelt on the ground, forcing him to stand. Then the captain clenched his fists and struck Awang's stomach hard.
"Wow......"
Awang knelt down again, clutching his stomach that had been severely hit. His mouth opened and spat out the sand jujube he had just swallowed, along with his stomach juices, blood, vitality, and hope for survival, all onto the dry sand.
The air was filled with the distinctive sour stench of vomit and a strong stench of blood.
Staring at the blood Awang had spat out, now showing an unnatural color, at the beads of sweat the size of beans on his face, at his pale face that had lost all color, the Afghan guerrilla leader was truly stunned. The Afghan guerrilla commander drew his bayonet, grabbed the now utterly terrified "assassin organization" member beside him, and shouted hoarsely, "Awang is the best soldier by my side. He used his own body to shield me from bullets. He is the best brother God has given me!" He didn't die in the nine-year 'holy war.' He fought with me in over three hundred battles, big and small, never died under enemy bullets. Who would have thought that today, he would die at the hands of a bastard like you! ”
"I want you to pay with your life for Awang!"
The Afghan guerrilla leader stabbed the bayonet fiercely. At this moment, no one dared to speak up to stop the soldier and child beside them who had been watching one by one fall. Their eyes were tinged with a deep red hue, looking like an old man mortally wounded and completely deranged!
No one could save this "assassin organization" member, but just as the Afghan captain's old bayonet—over two feet long and long removed from the modern battlefield—pierced his clothes and was about to pierce his chest, the bayonet suddenly froze in midair.
The Afghan guerrilla leader panted heavily, glaring fiercely at the bloodless "assassin organization" members standing there without losing their legs and falling to the ground. This veteran guerrilla fighter, who had lived over sixty years and spent most of his life on the battlefield, pointed at the "ally" who had pushed his most capable aide into the irretrievable abyss of death, and hoarsely shouted, "Remember, from this moment on, your life is no longer yours!" If you still want to keep living, if you want to die under my bayonets, then take the head of a Chinese soldier and trade it with me! ”
This member of the "assassin organization" nodded vigorously like a pecking chick. The skin on his chest could clearly feel the chilling coldness and sharpness unique to metal weapons on the old bayonet in the Afghan guerrilla leader's hand.
The Afghan guerrilla leader also knelt on the ground, reaching out to embrace the fighter whose whole body was trembling and blood was seeping from his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. He pressed his old bayonet against Awang's heart.
The Afghan guerrilla leader lifted his head. Only then could he stop his tears from flowing. He said in a trembling voice, "Brother, do you have any other wishes?" ”
Awang slowly shook his head. Just as the bayonet in the Afghan guerrilla leader's hand was about to pierce his heart, he suddenly reached out and tightly grabbed the old military knife. Under the captain's questioning gaze, this soldier who had followed the captain, fighting tirelessly for their "holy war" and homeland, had long been wrapped in horsehide and died in a foreign land preparing to dedicate himself to Allah, extending his trembling other hand.
In Awang's palm, he held a sand jujube!
Awang knew he was doomed, but he knelt there, desperately fighting the terrifying pain caused by the poison erupting inside his body. Gasping heavily, he suddenly mustered all his strength and squeezed out what might be his last scream in this world: "Why?!" …… I refuse to accept it! I can't accept it! ”
Yes, he really didn't understand.
Yes, he really refused to accept it!
Awang really couldn't understand why, when the sand jujube was picked from the same tree, the 'assassin organization' guys ate it without harm, but he had even chosen a jujube that looked perfectly intact on the surface, yet he himself was poisoned?!
Awang struggled to widen his eyes, now covered in a layer of blood-red mist. He reached out his trembling hand and pointed at the fruit tree where he had picked the poisonous sand jujube.
The Afghan guerrilla leader looked at the jujube tree Awang pointed to and said in a strange voice, "Brother, just wait, I'll go find out the reason!" I would never let my brother, upon seeing our Allah and our great war heroes, not know how he died on the battlefield! ”
Following Awang's point, the Afghan guerrilla leader walked to the jujube tree and carefully examined it. On the treetops, he could clearly see insects and ants crawling back and forth on the tree, which had already plucked all the leaves, futilely searching for the delicious food that belonged to them.
But the Afghan guerrilla leader's sharp eyes quickly landed on the trunk of the soaking fruit sand jujube tree. He crouched down and gently picked up a corpse of an ant curled up from the ground. After staring for a moment, the Afghan guerrilla leader drew his bayonet and gently scraped a piece of jujube bark from the treetop, covering an ant. A few seconds later, the ant swaggered out from under the bark.
The Afghan guerrilla leader then scraped a piece of bark from the lower half of the jujube tree and placed it on the same ant. The ant never crawled out from under the bark again. When he lifted the bark, he saw a corpse of a curled-up, already dead ant.
This jujube tree was half poisonous, half none! What is most unbelievably heavy is that between the two, it seems as if there is an invisible watershed, placing them at the border of the Chu River and Han River!
Faced with this bizarre scene, everyone's eyes widened, even the Afghan guerrilla leader frowned.
After thinking for a moment, he put on a pair of sheepskin gloves and carefully parted the branches. As his hand swept over the tree's trunk layer by layer and finally stopped at a certain spot halfway up, the Afghan guerrilla leader's expression changed. He slowly plucked a piece of bark from the treetop, which had long been cut off with a military knife but was then rewrapped and camouflaged, forming a ring-shaped bark.
Choosing a hidden location, Chinese soldiers used combat knives to saw through the bark of the Paoguosa Guaiguai jujube tree, forcibly cutting off the meridian pathways built through the bark. Using the simplest method, they split a jujube tree several feet tall into two sections!
The sand jujube growing on the upper half of the tree had its meridians cut off, stopping water transmission, so the "Holy War No. 1" poison could not be transmitted upward. So when the terrorists' joint pursuit team arrived, ants were still crawling back and forth on the jujube tree, invisibly serving as the perfect camouflage for the trap.
On the lower half of this jujube tree, every sand jujube flows water through photosynthesis, becoming infected with the "Jiajing No. 1" virus.