Miss Beautiful C.E.O and her system

Chapter 801: What a waste!

The assault squad leader followed the line at the very front. Bullets sprayed while ricochets kicked off around them. By now, the heavy machine gun teams on the technical vehicles had shifted fire and restrained their fire rate.

The bursts slowed. The distant thuds of the DShKs had completely reduced to sporadic fire. Obviously, the support teams only fired when necessary.

The overhead grenades were still pouring down. She didn't need to think further to know the support teams were containing the squirters.

Tonight's mission was to completely eliminate all terrorists. None were to be left alive. She didn't need to worry about the terrorists surrendering and complicating the rules of engagement.

Not that the militia faction she belonged to adhered to them that much, much less against enemies committing acts of terrorism.

However, to avoid drawing attention from the World Government, minimum exposure was required. Whatever happened behind the scenes—as long as no one found out, it didn't exist.

Of course, the reason she had no such concerns here was because the terrorists knew the identity of who was attacking them—female fighters.

In their minds and ideology, women were born to serve them, mere reproductive tools to increase the population. Property to be used according to their will.

Surrendering to them would be a complete humiliation. Not to mention, religiously, their dream of ascending to paradise forbade such thoughts.

Even if that ascension would supposedly be nullified when killed by women, they were still adamant about dragging more people down with them in death. No doubt about it.

Clearly evidenced by the heavy casualty the squad leader had witnessed earlier, the desperate counterattack had almost taken another poor soul with it. Luckily, GSS was assisting them thoroughly in every dimension.

Thinking of this, the female squad leader quickly warned her subordinates, "All units, be advised. Exercise extreme caution. Tangoes are getting desperate."

Not long after she said that, she reached a small pocket of a three-man formation ahead. Just then, a burst of fire erupted from the front

"F**k!" The squad leader broke the polite tradition of maintaining etiquette and hustled to cover.

She saw the pointwoman drop instantly while her partner behind her spewed automatic fire, leaning to the side to dodge the enemy's line of aim.

The rearguard also shifted to the side and suppressed the opponent, managing to score a hit on the rifle and silence the firefight.

"Throw the grenade!"

"On it. Frag out!"

The two had no time to care about the fallen pointwoman and immediately neutralized the threat.

Boom!

The pair advanced and fired at the body still moaning in pain and disillusionment. The squad leader moved out and provided security toward the exposed angle. Heck, everywhere was exposed actually.

The two returned and, without even needing to address their squad leader, immediately attended to the casualty.

The squad leader didn't mind and asked, "How bad?!"

"I don't see any blood. She's not breathing," one reported.

"Is she dead?!" The other tried slapping the woman's face twice.

She knew her subordinates still had much to learn. Their knowledge was totally devoid of systematic first-aid training, especially battlefield medical specialization.

"Calm down!" she ordered. "Check the pulse on her neck."

"Yes."

"How is it?" the squad leader asked, her eyes still keen on surrounding threats. This trio had indeed separated slightly farther ahead than the other formations.

"Yes. YES! I can feel a weak pulse."

"Whew." The squad leader sighed in relief. "Take off her armor. The bullets likely hit her plate. Relieve the weight so she can regain her breathing. If not, we'll proceed with CPR."

"Roger that." Obviously, the two laymen regained their joy upon hearing of their teammate's survival.

Afterward, the squad leader caught sight of dripping blood from one of the treating subordinates. She immediately walked up and knelt beside her, signaling the follow-up formation behind them to provide cover.

"Hey, hey. She's alright. There shouldn't be any penetration. It's you. Yes, it's you!" The squad leader checked the subordinate whose arm seemed soaked wet.

She took out a medical kit and cut off the clothing above the wound with scissors. Sure enough, the skin underneath was soaked.

Under night vision goggles, it was hard to discern the color, but she knew it was blood.

"Ouch! Shit! I was shot? Hiss!" The puzzled tone escaped the woman's mouth.

Adrenaline had rushed through her body to the point that she hadn't even noticed being shot and had continued forward to kill the terrorist.

The squad leader rolled her eyes and didn't say much. This girl was lucky that her pointwoman had taken most of the dangerous shots on the plates while only a stray round wounded her arm.

Based on her observation, this girl should rest and stay in the rear now. Not to mention, the current battle situation didn't require too much manpower anymore.

A week should be sufficient for the arm to heal completely. The squad leader ordered the combat-ineffective group to stay vigilant and assume sentry roles there.

One had been hit several times on the plate, leaving her unable to breathe properly. Another was wounded in the arm. The last survived without a scratch, but the squad leader had to shout at her several times—clearly, she had partially deafened herself from the close grenade blast. This woman's ears definitely needed recovery.

Dammit, she had really witnessed a small formation being knocked out of combat despite having so many tactical advantages. Compared to the first team, this formation had suffered lower risk, yet they still could have died if another counterattack had come while they were combat ineffective. War was hell.

Fortunately, the unconscious girl started breathing again, though she still seemed dazed. Ah, she must have been reborn in this life to serve these girls if reincarnation truly existed.

Well, like a wise saint once said, leaders are born to serve others.

The complaints didn't stop until she felt a pat on the back. She glanced behind and saw the GSS operative who had treated her critically wounded subordinate.

"Is she alright?"

The squad leader received a nod from her and quickly explained the situation. Then, she spoke through the channel.

"Be advised, exercise caution. No need to rush. Coordinate with your fellow comrades. I don't want to see or hear another formation getting hurt! Don't save grenades. Pour them all out for me. Out."

Soon, multiple blasts rang out across the field. The squad leader beamed with joy as her subordinates listened to her words.

The nearby GSS operative had her eyelids twitch. She understood the squad leader's decision, but to waste so much... Of course, these weren't the militia's grenades, so they had no worries, but these were still properties belonging to her boss, Ling Qingyu, right?

The downside of sponsorship, alas. The operator shook her head. What a waste! A strategy of Country R, make up for quality with quantity.

At least, no more news of casualties popped up again. Certainly, the squad leader received an inquiry from the platoon leader, noticing the oddness and laughed cheekily, hearing the scolding.

The GSS operator, Spirit Fox, chuckled and followed the squad leader to clear out any remaining terrorists. The firefight ended several minutes later. The battlefield turned awfully quiet. No insect noise, no nature appearances. Just pure void.