A few days later.
Northern Sudan, Darfur Region.
Yellow sand fills the sky, and the heat wave distorts the horizon.
Five desert-camouflaged SUVs form a loose convoy, slowly advancing on the rugged desert highway.
The dust lifted by the wheels trails behind the cars like a slowly dissipating snake.
Song Heping sits in the passenger seat of the second vehicle, his eyes scanning the desert on both sides behind his sunglasses.
He's wearing a light desert combat uniform, with binoculars hanging from his chest, tapping his left-hand index finger rhythmically on his knee, holding a satellite phone with his right hand during a call.
"Old Demon?"
"Hey, is it Heping?"
"Yes, yes, it's me. By the way, how are you and Mr. Hou doing?"
"We're safe, currently in Central Africa."
"How's his injury?"
"Mostly healed, he's very grateful to you. He said, you can come for the gold mine anytime."
"Damn! Hahaha!"
Song Heping couldn't help but laugh out loud.
Gold mine.
