Chapter 268: A Unique Profession

What were mercenaries?

They were a unique profession—one that could be described as pure career soldiers.

Why? Because they killed for money.

You could also call them a gang of violent criminals, people willing to do anything for the right price. They were armed to the teeth, and their sole purpose in combat was to get paid. Whoever offered the highest price could hire them.

Why was Xiao Yu so shocked?

Because the other side’s group reportedly included fifteen mercenaries.

Was that worth such an alarm?

Absolutely. Most people didn’t understand what it meant to be a mercenary.

Do you think anyone could just decide to become one? Do you know the kind of people who became mercenaries?

They were former criminals, outlaws, desperados, ex-soldiers, or people who’d hit rock bottom. And then there was another type: those who joined mercenary groups simply because they enjoyed killing.

Think joining a group makes you a mercenary?

Wrong.

The world of mercenaries was pure survival of the fittest. The moment you joined, the elimination process began. Training, missions, battles—it was a constant cycle of escalation and weeding out the weak. Each mission brought more death, more killing, and more eliminations.

And what was being eliminated?

Your life.

Only the luckiest, most skilled individuals survived long enough to truly call themselves mercenaries.

In essence, mercenaries were killing machines forged by money, and they belonged to one of the deadliest professions on the battlefield. Their mortality rate was staggering. A single mistake during a mission could mean death.

And it was not just the enemies you have to worry about. Death might even come from the person standing next to you.

Now imagine it—what kind of killing ability would someone need to survive in such a brutal environment?

This wasn’t an exaggeration of how amazing mercenaries were. It was just the reality of what they did.

Some of these people might not even match regular soldiers in certain areas of military expertise. But when it came to battlefield survival and killing techniques?

They could rival any special forces unit in the world. And now, fifteen of these people had appeared at once.

Can you imagine the cost—whether in lives, resources, or time—of trying to capture or eliminate them?

What’s more, these were individuals who’d mastered survival and killing. If their goal was simply to escape and stay alive, what kind of desperate measures would they resort to? And if any of them managed to slip into civilian areas, what kind of chaos would follow?

“Because we’re not sure if all of them are here, we can’t act yet,” Wang Dong said, his expression heavy as he turned to Xiao Yu. “We’re waiting for all of them to show up, and for the moment they’re preparing to leave. When we move, we aim to take every last one down. No one can escape.”

Xiao Yu nodded.

No wonder they hadn’t acted yet. They were ensuring none of the mercenaries got away.

This was Bencheng, a bustling city. If even one of them slipped through the net and disappeared into the urban sprawl the consequences would be unthinkable.

“Little brother, that outfit of yours isn’t going to cut it,” said the special forces captain, handing Xiao Yu a set of tactical combat gear. He grinned. “Our fifth time working together, huh?”

Xiao Yu nodded, taking the military-grade tactical wear.

“Zhao Long,” the captain said, extending a hand.

“Xiao Yu,” he replied, shaking it firmly.

Five minutes later, Xiao Yu stood before the group, now dressed in the full tactical outfit.

Everyone froze, staring at him in disbelief as if they no longer recognized him.

Under the glow of the setting sun, his handsome features were replaced by a sharp, cold toughness. The team could feel the strength radiating from him, see it in the skin exposed by his tactical gear, and sense the explosive power hidden within his tall frame.

Even Xiao Yu’s eyes were different. They now shone with a deep, chilling intensity, exuding an aura of quiet menace.

“What’s wrong?” Xiao Yu asked with a grin, his signature sunny smile breaking through. “Changed clothes, and now you don’t recognize me?”

Everyone snapped out of it. It was true. He had changed.

At this moment, he wasn’t just a police officer anymore. He looked like a soldier.

One by one, weapons were handed to him by the special forces. A submachine gun, a handgun, spare magazines, two grenades, and two stun grenades.

They watched as Xiao Yu deftly strapped each weapon onto his tactical gear with practiced ease.

Captain Zhao Long of the special forces exchanged a glance with Zhou Lie, the Ninth Unit leader. Even Wang Dong gave his younger brother a long, meaningful look. Soon after, they all gathered to review the battle plan.

Time ticked away.

Two hours later, the sun had completely set, and darkness blanketed the earth. In the distance, the dock was lit up like daytime, its lights cutting through the night.

A team of operatives moved like ghosts, silent and invisible, as they approached the dockyard.

Two scouts reached the outer perimeter first.

Two special forces snipers secured elevated positions with clear views and perfect cover.

Meanwhile, two members of the Ninth Unit set up a heavy machine gun at a high vantage point. 

Xiao Yu, Wang Dong, and a team of special operations personnel followed closely behind the others, advancing steadily toward the target.

“Confirmed: seventeen individuals. Two civilians, fifteen suspected mercenaries,” the scout’s low voice came through the wireless earpieces.

Everyone tensed.

The numbers were finally confirmed. There was no need for more discussion.

It was time to strike.

All eyes shifted to the container-loading area near the docked cargo ship. Through his Eagle’s Eye vision, Xiao Yu could clearly see over a dozen foreign individuals. Among them were people of different ethnicities—Caucasians, Africans, and even a few with yellow skin tones.

The moment Xiao Yu saw them, he could tell they weren’t ordinary people.

Every now and then, a few of them would glance around, their eyes constantly scanning the surroundings.

It didn’t matter if they were walking or doing something else, those sharp eyes were always watching.

And their hands? They hovered around their waists, roughly five centimeters away from where a weapon would be holstered.

Why?

Because it was a habit. It allowed them to draw their guns at a moment’s notice.

Even their footsteps were unnaturally light. Whether on the cement ground or elsewhere, they moved with deliberate caution—heel first, then toe.

Why walk like that?

It was another habit, one ingrained in them to avoid stepping on landmines. Even in a city, this survival instinct had been carved into their very bones.

Xiao Yu’s tense body relaxed slightly.

Sure, mercenaries were terrifying. But from what he could observe, these particular individuals didn’t seem to be equipped with any high-powered weaponry.

In terms of firepower, the National Security team and the special forces had them beat.

Now, it would come down to one thing—pure killing ability.