After that came the boring and monotonous time of sniper work. The rebels launched a general attack on the SIT, and both sides became entangled in a deadly knot.
Some SIT soldiers, seeing that the "Chimera" transport had stopped, decided the battle was lost and fled.
In this chaos, no one interfered with Li Qingyu's shooting, so he just lay in position and calmly pulled the trigger.
After firing ten rounds, he replaced the magazine, single-handedly loaded new rounds, cycled the bolt, and continued firing.
However, he had almost no targets left: the rebels had pushed the SIT soldiers into the forest, and he couldn't see what was happening from his position.
Fortunately, the enemies soon reappeared in his sights.
Those same SIT soldiers who had arrived in trucks and left them at the treeline were now fleeing in panic towards the vehicles, hoping to escape.
Li Qingyu adjusted the scope's magnification and checked the ballistic table on his arm.
The trucks were parked at the border between the forest and cultivated land; the distance – about fifteen hundred meters. Wind... The flags in the field showed a dead calm.
"Heaven itself is helping me," he chuckled inwardly, rejoicing at the windless conditions.
He aimed the crosshairs at an SIT soldier climbing into the cabin and fired.
There was a roar. The bullet flew for several long seconds.
The soldier, having barely settled into the driver's seat, reached for the ignition button, but the engine hadn't even had time to start. The windshield shattered into fragments, and the bullet, piercing his chest, ended his life.
Li Qingyu cycled the bolt, aimed at another driver – a shot, and the cabin was filled with a bloody mosaic.
He didn't fire at the third truck: the rebels had already surrounded it and, sticking the barrels of their autoguns into the cabin, poured lead into it.
The driver was torn apart on the spot. More and more rebels broke out of the forest, unleashing fire on the SIT soldiers in the cargo beds.
Those who had managed to jump into the vehicles hoping to escape died under crossfire.
Li Qingyu's sniper rifle slid across the field for a while longer, but, seeing no more targets, he slung the weapon over his shoulder and ran down the slope. It was time to collect trophies.
The mission was complete. Lieutenant Winchester was still inside the "Chimera" – whether he was alive or dead didn't matter.
The armored personnel carrier was stuck in the trench and wasn't going anywhere. The main thing now was trophies: there was so much weaponry scattered across the field!
Without wasting time, Li Qingyu whirled through the forest towards the border with the cultivated lands.
He wanted to find an intact truck, drive it to the rebel camp, load it with weapons, and then head to the ventilation shaft for extraction.
Meanwhile, the rebels were still chasing the remnants of the SIT soldiers. Having lost hope of transport, they fled on foot.
Li Qingyu deliberately didn't touch the fugitives, letting the rebels pursue them so he could calmly reach the vehicles.
When both sides disappeared in the distance, five or six military trucks remained on the site to choose from.
The vehicles were almost intact, except for cracked windshields.
But more important was their contents. Li Qingyu hurried to look into the cargo beds.
There lay metal crates: mostly food and medicine, but there were also ammunition.
He chose one truck – under the seats of the cargo bed, there were more than ten crates of ammunition for heavy stabbers.
From other vehicles, he dragged a dozen canisters of fuel, threw them in there as well, and drove the truck to Old Man Sen's camp.
Entering the territory, he saw that the battle was over. The rebels were crying and laughing at the same time.
They laughed from relief, cried from loss. Only a fifth remained alive. Out of a thousand fighters, less than a hundred were on their feet.
Those who survived didn't rush to loot – they tended to the wounded.
The "Chimera's" autocannon had fired high-explosive shells until the end of the battle, and the SIT soldiers had bombarded everything around with grenades, mutilating dozens of people.
Now, it was more important for the rebels to save their comrades.
Li Qingyu drove the truck to the edge of the forest and hurried to collect the most valuable items.
He ran up to a heavy stabber, grabbed the barrel and receiver, tensed, and with a heave lifted the eighty-kilogram machine!
His muscles bulged, and step by step, he carried the weapon to the truck. It was heavy, but joyful – birds sang inside.
A heavy twenty-millimeter caliber weapon. Once, such a thing was called an autocannon – a true instrument of death.
There were two such stabbers lying around. Li Qingyu decided to take both – he wanted to weld them to the gates of his distillery for protection.
The business was growing, and the Underhive was teeming with gangs. They certainly profited from others' property.
The workshop was located in a long Underhive tunnel. If one stabber was placed on the left, the other on the right, with the barrels facing outwards – who would dare approach? They'd be ground into mince!
He threw one stabber into the cargo bed, returned for the other, and added it. Then he searched the bodies of the crews.
Such weapons required constant maintenance – usually, soldiers carried spare barrels and tools.
Indeed: on the bodies of the SIT soldiers, next to the stabbers, he found two spare barrels and two repair kits in their backpacks.
Inside – tools, oil cans, everything as it should be.
And most importantly – the large repair kits were needed to upgrade the workbench in the Sanctuary. Exactly two were needed, and here they were – gathered!
He threw all this loot into the cargo bed and continued to comb the field.
He remembered where the enemies he had killed had fallen and ran to those spots.
By a tree lay the corpse of an SIT soldier, and next to it – a light machine gun.
Power supply – a belt of a hundred rounds in a square box, standard SIT ammunition.
Outwardly – a space analogue of the M249. Total weight – seven and a half kilograms. Not insignificant.
But for Li Qingyu, it was nothing: after the injection, his strength had increased to twenty-three – twice the human norm. The machine gun felt light.
An excellent piece of equipment! The rate of fire was higher than that of the SIT autoguns. Moreover, the heavy long barrel – power, range... Better than a rifle in every way.
Li Qingyu picked up the machine gun and headed for the next one.
When he was a sniper on the mountain, he first eliminated the enemy's light and heavy weapons. He remembered where another machine gunner had fallen.
Soon, he saw the corpse and the coveted weapon.
He reached out – but at the same moment, another hand, belonging to a rebel, also grabbed the barrel.