Aisade had set off early in the morning with his men.
Today, he had a new toy, the SA-9 missile.
This made Aisade somewhat floaty as he sat in the off-road vehicle.
Because he knew, among all the armed factions in the Sahel Region, no one had the SA-9, and he was the first to obtain this kind of anti-aircraft weapon.
He knew it was thanks to the Americans.
But deep inside, he despised the Americans.
After all, the Salafi Organization in Illiguo was one of the Resistance Organizations.
Yet Aisade had his own plan.
Using the strength of the Americans to empower himself, why not?
As for what ideology, what religion, those were all just facades.
Just like his own drinking, which also violated the doctrinal laws.
What did it matter?
In this day and age, wasn't everything for the sake of profit?
Today's destination was Affines, a key town in eastern Mali.
There, a battalion of the government army was stationed, along with a French detachment, comprising roughly two platoons of soldiers.
Previously, Aisade wouldn't dare provoke the French forces here.
It wasn't that he was afraid of the battalion of the government army and the two platoons of Frenchmen, but rather, about 300 kilometers away from Affines, in Tarsus within Niger territory, there was a French Air Force base deployed in West Africa.
If a firefight broke out in Affines, the French Air Force stationed at the Tarsus airport would take off with their Mirage 2000 attack planes and perform a scorched-earth attack on the attackers.
Previously, another armed group naively attacked Affines, resulting almost in annihilation; the French taught them a lesson with two Mirage 2000s.
But today was different.
With the SA-9 in hand, the world was his.
Aisade liked to move out at dawn and initiate the attack in the early morning.
After all, if it were a night battle, because of the presence of the French, it wouldn't be advantageous.
They were fully equipped with night vision goggles, making it disadvantageous for him in a night fight.
The early morning was different.
Departing at dawn, entering the predetermined attack position around five o'clock, then launching the attack as the sky began to light up.
The visibility wasn't bad, and the government troops and Frenchmen were still asleep, not yet up from bed, making it an opportune time to strike.
The outskirts of Affines were basked in the early dawn light, with the sun yet to rise, the horizon was tinged with a faint blue, and a glimmer of gold could barely be seen.
This area was different from the northern part of Mali; the Northern Desert had more deserts and a scarcity of water, while Affines lay next to the Tilemsi Valley, so water resources were relatively abundant. The outskirts had vast grasslands and forests, making it extremely advantageous for a concealed approach.
In the heavy fog on the outskirts, groups of Salafi Armed soldiers crouched low like hunting beasts, silently advancing towards the town.
In the dense forest, the chirping of birds rose and fell, like a natural symphony, covering the rustling sounds as soldiers brushed against wild grass and plants.
By a small village just outside of town, two women with water jars atop their heads walked toward the community well. Here, women were the main labor force; men either joined armed organizations or did nothing at home, and diligent men were as rare as three-legged toads.
The two women passed through the forest to arrive at the well and placed their jars on the ground. They pulled out their ropes, tied a small bucket to it, and tossed it into the well.
The well's opening was very small, limiting the size of the bucket, thus requiring several draws to fill one jar.
As the two women focused on drawing water, a few Salafi Armed soldiers slowly emerged from the forest behind them.
By the time the women noticed, it was already too late; several gun muzzles were pointed at them.
"Get down, make a sound, and we'll kill you," the lead figure warned the women, a fierce glint in his eyes.
He walked over to the trees, parted the bushes, and gazed into the distance.
This village was on the outskirts of the town, with a government army patrol deployed within it, responsible for patrolling the periphery of the town.
The intelligence about this had been thoroughly scouted by the spies of the Salafi Armed forces much earlier.
It must be said that the soldiers of the Salafi Armed forces were quite systematic; their core comprised of veterans pulled from Afghan and Illiguo, and the soldiers they trained were many times stronger than the local-born ones.
To enter the town, they had to first defeat the patrol team in this small village.
"Colonel, we have reached the entrance of the village," they reported.
"Have we arrived?"
Aisade's voice came through the radio.
"Wait there for now; the artillery responsible for attacking the town hasn't arrived yet," he instructed.
The "artillery" he referred to was his own mortar team.
Now, his mortar team was entering their firing position, building their emplacements, and getting ready to set up the mortars.
After some urging, the six mortars on the other end were finally set up.
Upon receiving the report, Aisade immediately ordered his men hiding outside the village, "As soon as you hear the mortars, storm the village—leave none alive, kill them all!"
The "leave none" he mentioned, of course, included the villagers.
Aisade didn't just want the government soldiers inside to die; he also intended to have the villagers pay the price.
They dared to allow government troops to establish outposts inside their village. If he didn't make an example out of them, who wouldn't dare to assist the government army in the future? That would be detrimental to him.
Boom—
Boom—
Boom—
A roaring sound came from the mortar position.
Mortar shells sliced through the morning sky, falling towards the town with a faint whistling sound.
Moments later, violent explosions were heard in the town.
Boom—
Boom—
Boom—
Black plumes of smoke rose, quickly polluting the blue sky, as if drawing a sinister talisman.
"Charge!"
The leader, hiding outside the village, took the lead, waving his hand around with a pistol, pointing it at all his underlings.
"Anyone who dares to run back, I'll kill them myself!"
"Kill them!"
A group of Salafi Armed forces, holding a variety of automatic rifles of different lineages and models, charged forward.
A pickup truck sped forward, smashing into the entrance of the village, with a Desheka Heavy Machine Gun on the truck's bed spraying wildly at the houses in the village.
Screams rose one after another, as the massacre shattered the peace of the area.
The Salafi Armed soldiers stormed into the village, and delivered a burst of gunfire to anyone they saw running.
Poor government patrol soldiers.
The sentinels standing guard were quickly turned into honeycombs, while soldiers sleeping in their rooms hurriedly put on their clothes trying to rush out, only to be shot cold and dead the moment they stepped out the door.
The government soldiers who hadn't left their houses yet felt their hearts collapse in an instant.
They were not particularly brave or skilled fighters; they had only joined the government army for a paycheck.
Now suddenly caught off guard and without the will to resist, they scrambled to escape through windows and back doors, fleeing towards the town.
Meanwhile, the barracks in the town itself were also in utter chaos; two lucky mortar shells had directly blown one of the barracks to smithereens, sending soldiers who were still sleeping to meet their maker in their dreams. Those who weren't killed were either wounded or screaming, crying out as they rushed out of the barracks, running around the camp like headless flies...