Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1002 Haftar's Self-Worth

The heavy wooden door slid open silently.

General Haftar appeared at the doorway. He had changed into a clean desert camouflage uniform. Although his face still looked tired and haggard, his back was ramrod straight, and his eyes were sharp and calm, showing no trace of the dejection of an exile. He was alone, without an adjutant.

His gaze swept over the various expressions on the faces of the people in the conference room, finally settling on Song Heping, and he nodded slightly.

"Mr. Song, everyone."

Haftar's voice was steady and powerful, carrying a penetrating quality born of experience. "I apologize for disturbing you. I know you are deciding my future and that of my loyal soldiers behind closed doors. I request a few minutes to state some thoughts. Whatever the outcome, I, Haftar, am grateful for the assistance provided by 'Musician' Defense in Desert City and Razorback."

Song Heping gestured for him to speak: "General, please speak."

Haftar walked to the conference table, but did not sit down. Instead, he placed his hands on the edge of the table, leaned forward slightly, and scanned everyone with eyes like a hawk.

"Lebia".

He spoke, his voice carrying the weight of history.

"From the authoritarian rule of the Gaddafi era to the current fragmentation, it's a vicious cycle. Why?"

His gaze sharpened. "Because this place has never been a place where the Lebians call the shots! Look at the Middle East, look at Africa, those countries mired in endless wars—whose shadow is behind them? It's London, it's Paris, it's Washington, it's Moscow! They circle like vultures, scavenging carrion, inciting tribes, sects, and warlords to tear each other apart! What's their favorite trick? 'Balance'! They will never allow any faction to truly become powerful and achieve unity! Because a unified, stable, and independent Lebia is not in their interest! They need chaos, they need proxy wars, they need a constant supply of arms, they need cheap oil and minerals!"

His voice wasn't loud, but every word was like a knife, dissecting the bloody reality:
"What is Saif? He is a well-chosen, obedient dog of the British! They gave him weapons, money, and put him in the top position of the GNA, all to make him obedient and to make him the watchdog of British interests in Lebanon!"

"But what happens to dogs? Once they're used up, or if they disobey, they're kicked aside and replaced with new ones! Look at Dorn! Look at Arief! The British can sacrifice them without hesitation! Saif is just the next pawn to be sacrificed! Does he think he's a chess player? What a joke! He's just a pawn on the chessboard that can be captured at any time!"

Haftar took a deep breath and looked intently at Song Heping:
“I am not an idealist, Mr. Song. I am a soldier, a realist. I know that Lebia’s desire to completely break free from the influence of Western powers is a pipe dream. But…”

He emphasized, “I will not be their pawn! That’s my bottom line! I can negotiate with them, I can trade with them, but it must be on equal footing! I want cooperation, not begging on my knees! I want to exploit the contradictions between them, the contradictions between Britain and France, the contradictions between the US and Russia, to make them check and balance each other, instead of letting them lead me by the nose! Only in this way can Lebia have any hope of even temporary, fragile peace! Only then can it have a chance to regroup and rebuild!”

He took a step forward, his gaze fixed intently on Song Heping:
"If, and I mean if, I can regain control of most of Lebia and gain real power, I promise that 'Musician' Defense Company will be my top priority and most important partner! The important ports of Tripoli, Benghazi, and Misrata will be open to you first! You will receive the largest share of the exploration rights to both proven and undiscovered oil fields within the country! Your interests will be deeply intertwined with the stability of Lebia!"

This blatant promise of benefits caused the air in the meeting room to freeze.

This is real leverage.

"I know."

Haftar abruptly changed the subject, his tone tinged with barely perceptible excitement, "Look at me now, all of you, with only a little over a hundred men at my disposal, like stray dogs. But you're wrong!"

He straightened his chest: "The failure of Desert City was due to the betrayal of an insider! It wasn't because my soldiers were incompetent! In the hours after we arrived here, my satellite phone never stopped ringing! Those old troops who were scattered and fighting their own battles in Desert City, like lone wolves searching for their alpha on the grasslands, are looking for me! They are coming closer to me!"

He announced a number that sent a shockwave through everyone present:

"According to preliminary statistics, we have already contacted and are currently gathering more than 5,000 of our former troops in Darfur! These are veterans who survived the bloody battle of the desert city, who did not surrender or disappear during the rout! They are the capital for my comeback! They are the foundation for my return to Leviathan!"

Five thousand people!
This number shattered the heavy atmosphere in the conference room like a bolt of lightning.

A glint of light flashed behind Ferrari's glasses, and the polar bear and the hunter instinctively sat up straight.

"but……"

Haftar's voice lowered, becoming earnest, "I need help! Mr. Song! I need the 'Musician's' help! Weapons! Ammunition! Vehicles! Fuel! Communication equipment! These supplies are blood! More importantly—"

His gaze swept over the polar bear, the hunter, and the others, his expression filled with undisguised eagerness. "I need you! I need your top-notch military training! I've seen how your men fight on Razorback! Precise, efficient, ruthless, and perfectly coordinated! That's the level of a professional army! If you can help me train these five thousand combat-experienced veterans into an army that's even half as good as you... no, just thirty percent!"

A strong, almost obsessive light flashed in Haftar's eyes:

"I, Haftar, have absolute confidence that I can lead this army back to Lebia! Defeat Saif, that dog of the British! Defeat those disorganized warlord forces! Reclaim our land and dignity!"

His words struck like a hammer blow to everyone's heart.

Five thousand veterans who have been selected through blood and fire.

In addition, a mature, pragmatic, and ambitious leader.

In addition, the "musician" receives top-notch training and equipment support...

This scene instantly lessened the sense of despair felt by the "hundreds of wounded soldiers".

After Haftar finished speaking, he bowed slightly to Song Heping and the others: "I have finished speaking. Thank you all for your time."

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the operations room with the steady steps characteristic of a soldier. The door closed silently behind him.

A longer silence fell over the operations room. Unlike the previous oppressive atmosphere, this silence was tinged with an undercurrent of "possibility."

Song Heping's gaze slowly swept over the core members present.

Ferrari frowned, his fingers swiping rapidly across the tablet, clearly reassessing the feasibility of Haftar's proposed data and plans, his previous staunch opposition now wavering.

The polar bear crossed his arms, his sharp eyes thoughtful, seemingly weighing the difficulty and potential rewards of training five thousand African soldiers.

The hunter stopped cleaning his pistol and tapped his fingers unconsciously on the table, as if calculating the odds of winning the battle.

No one dared to voice their opposition so easily anymore.

Haftar's speech, especially the remarks by the five thousand veterans who were gathering, completely altered the expected balance of power.

More importantly, the future he envisioned as a "collaborator" rather than a "pawn," along with the coveted port and oil field interests, was irresistibly alluring.

Song Heping took in everyone's reactions. He leaned forward, placed his hands crossed on the table, and broke the silence with a steady and powerful voice:
"Gentlemen, what do you think now?"

Ferrari looked up, his gaze complex behind his gold-rimmed glasses. He took a deep breath, his voice slightly hoarse, and said in a low voice, "Perhaps... it's worth a try. The risks are still huge, but... the potential rewards certainly exceed our previous estimates. Five thousand seasoned veterans with experience... that's a good starting point."

He ultimately chose the cautious but no longer negative word "try."

The white bear slowly loosened his arms, his rough fingers tapping on the table: "Training five thousand people... three months? Time is tight, and the task is heavy. But... if they can be molded into a cohesive force, this is indeed a force capable of stirring up trouble in Leviathan. The key is, Haftar... what he just said didn't sound like boasting."

The hunter nodded, his words concise: "This has potential. Let's do it!"

The other members nodded in agreement, their previous doubts replaced by a new light of adventure and anticipation.

Song Heping's gaze finally fell on the Lebanese situation map, as if he could see through the map and see the torrent of five thousand soldiers that Haftar had described, converging on Darfur in the north.

The last trace of hesitation in his eyes faded, replaced by a sharp, decisive look.

He stood up abruptly, his voice like tempered steel, resounding decisively throughout the operations room:
"Okay! It's settled then!"

"Collins, go and inform General Haftar later that our 'Musician' Defense Company has accepted his proposal!"

"Ferrari, immediately draw up a detailed list of supplies and a procurement and transportation plan. Weapons, ammunition, vehicles, fuel, and communication equipment—procure them to meet the standards for high-intensity combat operations involving 5,000 people! Money is not an issue; what I need is speed and stealth!"

"White Bear, Jiang Feng!"

Song Heping's gaze shifted to Jiang Feng, a former Russian paratrooper and former sergeant in the air assault training battalion.

"You're in charge of the training plan! Three months! I'm only giving you three months! Train these five thousand scattered soldiers into an army capable of fighting tough battles and understanding modern tactical coordination! I don't want them all to be Rambos; I want them to operate like precise gears! Just name your needs for instructors, training grounds, and equipment!"

"Hunter! You will lead a team to assist White Bear, and be responsible for intensive training in basic tactics and fire coordination, especially urban warfare and desert mobile warfare!"

"Everyone else, perform your duties and do your utmost to ensure success! From this moment on, all company resources will be directed towards the 'Darfur Restructuring Plan'!"

Song Heping slammed his fist on the table, making a dull thud, like the beating of a war drum.

"Three months! In three months, I will lead this 'Haftar Legion,' forged by our own hands, back to Leviathan! We will drive Saif and the British behind him into the Mediterranean!"

The command flowed through the operations room like an electric current.

The previous solemnity, hesitation, and debate have all transformed into a sense of excitement and a clear goal.

Everyone responded in unison:

"Understood, boss!"

In the desolate Gobi Desert of Darfur, a new eye of storm is forming.

A high-stakes gamble, with a three-month time limit, betting the future of the "musician" and Haftar's fate, has officially begun.

Song Heping's gun was already aimed at Tripoli, which was further away.

　Asking for a monthly ticket! Asking for a monthly ticket!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)