Qu Youmi's Transmigration

The wind along the northwestern border whipped sand and grit against Qu Youmi’s combat uniform like countless tiny blades. She lay low on the sheltered side of a dune, her helmet’s night-vision goggles trained on an abandoned oil rig three kilometers away. Scattered red lights glimmered there: the sentries of the Viper organization. They had kidnapped three members of a geological survey team and demanded a ransom of thirty million dollars. The deadline was four hours away.

“Falcon One, Falcon Two is in position. No movement at the sentry post northwest of the target,” came teammate Chen Mo’s voice over the headset, roughened slightly by the sand and wind.