*Arc Light One* lowered to three hundred feet, circling the presidential palace counterclockwise, as the SS-77 machine guns on board began firing, pouring bullets into the palace buildings.

The guards immediately felt the intensified pressure. Already disoriented by the unpredictable aerial fire, now there are a lot more bullets shooting from the sky. Bushes, windows, and even the shadows of buildings—all places where people could hide were focus on taken care of and shot over and over again.

Though the presidential guard had begun to regain order, this one-sided assault severely dampened their morale. With the tide of battle turning against them, occasional bullets fired into the house through the windows frightened the soldiers inside, making them too afraid to even look out.

The drone of engines grew louder as the helicopters continued to descend, signaling the imminent next phase of the operation. Yet the guard officers were at a loss: their recent attempt to retake the watchtowers had failed, costing the lives of more than a dozen soldiers. Frustration and reluctance began to spread, and no matter how harshly the officers scolded or threatened, the soldiers refused to step outside and organize a defense.

This stalemate persisted until *Arc Light Two* landed. Only then, at close range under the lights from the ground, did the helicopter’s dark silhouette become visible. Like a huge creature materializing from the night sky, it rapidly descended toward the roof of the three-story building in the front yard.

Before the landing gear touched the rooftop, Du Preez leaped from the tail door, sprinting toward the stairwell leading to the building below. He held his rifle in his left hand and a grenade with the pin already pulled in his right. Six African soldiers followed, taking positions and scanning all directions on the rooftop.

The burly South African had barely taken a few steps when he saw a figure wavering in the stairwell doorway. Acting on instinct, he lobbed the grenade with a flick of his wrist, then he lay down on the ground, picked up the assault rifle and fired a long burst over there.

“Rat-a-tat-tat...” The sound of gunfire erupted, and the others followed his lead, showering the stairwell entrance with bullets.

A loud explosion followed as the grenade detonated, sending a cloud of dust and debris bursting from the doorway.

Seizing the opportunity, Du Preez rushed to the stairwell, tossing another grenade inside. After it exploded, he emptied a magazine down the stairwell before ordering a few soldiers to clear out any remaining enemies on the lower floors.

Mark, holding an SS-77 machine gun, burst out of the helicopter and ran to the edge of the rooftop, setting up the gun and firing at the area below. A dozen soldiers quickly followed, unloading various supplies from the helicopter.

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With all personnel and equipment offloaded, the pilot wasted no time pulling the control stick, and *Arc Light Two* climb sharply upward, departing the rooftop and disappearing into the night sky.

Once half the men had stormed into the building, Du Preez ran to the ammunition storage place in the center of the rooftop. Slinging his rifle under his arm, he grabbed an RPG-7 in one hand and a bag full of rockets in the other, crouching as he ran to join Mark.

As he set down the weapons and ammo, a loud “whizz” sounded near his head, a bullet zipping past. He dropped to the ground and fired a flare into the sky.

Under the bright, searing light of the flare, the inside of the Presidential Palace was horrific, and the horrific scene in the front yard made people feel as if they were in hell.

Corpses lay strewn across the open space near the presidential guard barracks, many twisted or mangled beyond recognition, with severed limbs scattered everywhere. These unfortunate guys, initially rushing to grab weapons, had been decimated by the dozen mortar shells that had rained down in front of the barracks. Those who survived the blasts had either been torn apart by the shockwave and shrapnel or trapped and burned alive in the blazing barracks.

“They’ve successfully landed,” Semler said, firing his machine gun downwards.

Just then, a flash erupted from Mark’s rooftop position as a PG-7VS rocket streaked through the night, smashing through the window of a small building on the outer grounds and exploding inside. A second rocket quickly followed, blowing a four-foot hole in the outer wall of the same building.

“Aim at anyone who comes out.” Deng Shiyang ordered.

Almost immediately, a figure stumbled out of the hole made by the rocket, staggering like a drunk. He took a few steps, then slipped and fell to his knees. Another person followed, stumbling out behind him.

Semler aimed his machine gun, watching as the kneeling figure was gunned down in a hail of bullets. He then lowered his aim and fired a short burst at the “corpse” on the ground.

The other soldier seemed either paralyzed with fear or oblivious to his predicament. Instead of running, he raised his hands in surrender, only to be riddled with bullets in a torrent of gunfire.

The parachute flare had drifted beyond the outer wall, leaving the grounds darker once again, and Du Preez promptly fired another flare.

With the battle now at close range, the guards’ resistance grew fiercer, using every building in the front yard to create defensive points against the mercenaries.

By now, the mercenaries had secured the three-story landing building and were launching an offensive on the surrounding buildings in the front yard. Mark and eight African soldiers established a firing position on the second floor, using four SS-77 machine guns to provide suppressive fire, pinning down and neutralizing the guards’ defensive positions. Meanwhile, on the rooftop, Du Preez unleashed over twenty rockets in one go and bombarded every window he could see.

Under this combined ground and air cover, the African soldiers advanced in a crouch, they first used MGL MK-1L to bombard or cover various windows and bunkers, and then rushed into the house to clear the enemies inside room by room with grenades and rifles.

The guards had been caught off guard, with much of their weaponry and ammunition left behind in the barracks, which had been destroyed at the outset of the assault. Despite only having twenty-six men, the mercenaries overwhelmed the larger presidential guard force with superior firepower and air support, rendering them unable to mount any effective resistance.