Back To The 80s: President's Doted Wife

Chapter 892: Chapter 893: Something’s Not Right

In two separate locations, Cheng Su’s side was tangled in family affairs, while Qi Taiguo’s side was risking his life for the country.

The two teams went their separate ways; Qi Taiguo’s Tackle Hawks Team faced challenges much greater than Gao Linbing’s Fulang Team.

The jungle at the Bagui border was steep and complex, with a Dahe River crossing the border. To cross, they had to go over the river first, and if they wanted to tackle hawks, all smugglers and hostages must be across the river.

Even after crossing, they couldn’t relax. Any sudden action would alert the smugglers, who would jump into the river with the drugs and the people, ending the operation. The river was fast-flowing, with a large waterfall downstream and entering it meant certain death for anyone not adept at swimming.

Therefore, Qi Taiguo watched helplessly as they slowly crossed the river, unable to move hastily. Instead, he quietly informed his teammates through a hidden communicator.

Qi Taiguo’s scouting position was very high. He wore grass green camouflage, a wreath of grass on his head with tree branches, and his minimal movement made him hard to detect.

From his vantage point, he saw hostages—men, women, children, and even a pregnant woman—looking alarmed, with ropes tied around their waists, like a string of zongzi, pulling a safety rope across the river.

There were nine hostages in total, but Qi Taiguo found it strange. Weren’t there supposed to be dozens of kilos of drugs? These people seemed lightly equipped, and when crossing the river, how were they keeping them safe?

But it wasn’t what Qi Taiguo needed to focus on; his priority was that they all got across the river.

Suddenly, a man in the front staggered and fell into the water, swallowing a few mouthfuls. The smuggler beside him with a rifle immediately cursed him, pulled him up, and struck him with the gunstock a few times.

The man wailed, and Qi Taiguo almost sprang out—those were his country’s compatriots.

After a few more reprimands from a smuggler behind, the one who had been hitting stopped, pushing the man and others forward while warily watching for any movement around. The hostages followed, faces full of horror, trembling.

Qi Taiguo watched, his face dark and solemn.

It was the end of September; the jungle temperatures were already low. They had crossed the river at dawn—how could they not be cold?

Qi Taiguo held on until the last smuggler got ashore, then he softly reported via the walkie-talkie and silently leaped down, heading for the ambush site.

Just now, from his elevated position, he saw clearly. Whether it was to ensure their own safety or what, the smugglers valued the hostages highly, almost surrounding them as they crossed the river.

This meant that to smoothly reach the rendezvous point with the Green Eagle Hall, they would certainly continue to surround the hostages.

However, with the hostages being young and old, they would inevitably slow down.

Qi Taiguo stopped in his tracks, sensing something was amiss. He found a high point to look again. The figures were sparse, but from there, he could still see they indeed surrounded the hostages as he thought.

Why did they value mere hostages so much?

As desperados, they shouldn’t be slowed by such burdens unless they had to, or these people were carrying something immensely important that they had to protect.

What could it be?

Qi Taiguo’s mind raced. These people were lightly packed, but the intelligence reported dozens of pounds of drugs. Where could they have hidden these things?