Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1030 Saif's All-in
The message arrived at the "Musician" defense command in Lebia almost simultaneously.

The heavy curtains blocked out the Mediterranean sunlight and noise, leaving only the faint blue light of communication devices inside.

Henry stood before the massive tactical map, his brow furrowed, his finger slamming down on the location representing Jebuty Port: "Mr. Song, Terry has been thrown out as a scapegoat. While the media storm has been temporarily contained, Vincent and the White House won't give up! They're only temporarily laying low in Jebuty! With the CIA's ability to manipulate the media, in five days, at most a week, the 'Marlin' news will be overshadowed by new hot topics! Then, that damned ship will immediately set sail, full speed ahead of Benghazi! Once that batch of weapons falls into Saif's hands…"

"By then..."

Henry's voice was filled with anxiety and helplessness: "...We have no cards left to play to stop it! The US warships are surrounding it like an iron barrel, and now in the harbor, not even a fly can get close! No matter how crazy the jackals on the dark web are, they can't chew this tough nut!"

Song Heping remained seated in that large leather chair, his posture even appearing relaxed.

His gaze calmly swept over the glaring red circle representing Savinnu on the tactical map, which was now covered by intense artillery fire.

He merely grunted in response to Henry's anxiety, as if the giant ship carrying deadly weapons were nothing more than a trivial matter.

"Henry."

After a long while, Song Heping finally spoke.

"You only see the waves on the sea, but forget the whirlpool of the storm."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp as a knife.

“That ship won’t be safe until it actually docks at the Lebanese port and hands over the weapons to Saif… The bounty has been raised to 1.5 billion US dollars…”

A smile appeared on his face, then he smacked his lips and shook his head, as if savoring the allure of the fifteen billion dollars.

"That's no small sum...enough to drive countless hyenas lurking in the shadows completely mad. We just need to sit back and watch. The show is far from over."

"That……"

Henry wanted to express his concerns, but Song Heping didn't give him the chance, waving his hand and saying, "You continue to gather intelligence about the 'Marlin' by all means. Other matters are beyond your control; leave them to me."

"All right……"

Although Henry still had a lot to say, he also understood Song Heping's personality.

Although this situation seems critical, looking back at the past covert struggles with the CIA, Song Heping has never truly lost.

"Then I'll go out first."

"Well, go and do your thing."

After Henry left, Song Heping picked up the encrypted phone and dialed a number.

A few seconds later, Haftar's slightly agitated face appeared on the screen.

The faint sound of artillery fire could be heard from outside the tent behind him.

"General."

Song Heping's voice cut straight to the point without any pleasantries, carrying an unquestionable commanding tone.

"The battle for Savinnu has reached a stalemate, and I've had enough. Your troops are bogged down in street fighting. Saif has gotten a respite, and he's brought out the last three thousand reserves from Benghazi, heading straight for Savinnu! He's going to hold you back here!"

Haftar's cheek muscles twitched violently, a hint of vulnerability at being seen through and a deeper anxiety flashing in his eyes: "Mr. Song, those GNA bastards are fighting fiercely in the ruins! Every street, every house is ablaze! My men are paying a bloody price for every step they take! Reinforcements..."

"No time!"

Song Heping interrupted him, his tone suddenly becoming more forceful.

“Saif is gambling! He’s gambling on that ship, gambling that the Americans will support him, gambling that you can take Savinnu before the weapons reach Benghazi and threaten his stronghold! He’s evacuating the last garrison in Benghazi to make a desperate gamble and wear you down in Savinnu. Once the weapons land, he’ll be resupplied, and fresh troops from the west will arrive at the same time… Tell me, Haftar, what will you use to stop him?”

“I…” Haftar was speechless.

Song Heping's gaze seemed to pierce through the screen, striking straight into Haftar's soul: "Three days! I'm only giving you three days! Within three days, Savinu must plant your flag! Then, without stopping, head straight for Benghazi! Strike him when he's at his weakest! Otherwise..."

He paused, his voice carrying the low pressure before an impending storm, "...Once his guns arrive, lying in the ruins will be the corpses of you and your soldiers! You should be well aware of the pros and cons."

"Yes! I understand perfectly..."

Haftar jolted awake, the last trace of hesitation in his eyes replaced by ruthlessness, and he pounded his chest hard at the screen.

"Three days! We must take Savinnu, or I'll personally lead the charge on the third day!"

The screen went dark.

Song Heping sat in his chair and pondered for a moment. Half a minute later, he put down the phone, grabbed the desert camouflage jacket hanging on the back of the chair, and put it on quickly without any hesitation: "Henry, prepare the car. To Savinnu."

"Now? It's too dangerous!"

Henry exclaimed.

On the map, the red and blue circles of Savinnu are layered and interlocked, forming a jagged pattern, and all of them are concentrated in the city.

"Yes."

Song Heping buttoned up the last button, his eyes eerily calm.

"I felt I had to go to the front lines and see what was really happening there."

A few hours later.

Savennu, the pre-hell hall.

The armored vehicle stopped behind the ruins at a relatively high point on the edge of the city. Song Heping opened the door and got out of the car, and was greeted by a strong smell of gunpowder.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of blood and burnt building dust, a nauseating odor that filled the nostrils.

The flashes of light from the explosions echoed throughout the city, each flash accompanied by a muffled roar and a tremor of the earth.

Tracer bullets streaked wildly through the dim twilight and billowing smoke, weaving a web of death.

Buildings groaned and collapsed under the shelling, and the dust they kicked up obscured the already dim light of day.

Haftar's mobilization clearly worked, or rather, Song Heping's "three-day deadline" ignited their ferocity in a do-or-die battle.

Clad in khaki combat uniforms, Haftar's armed soldiers surged into the city's ruined entrance like a flood bursting its banks. Mortar shells roared down on what appeared to be GNA firing positions, exploding into fireballs strewn with rubble and severed limbs.

Armored vehicles provided cover for the infantry, unleashing heavy machine guns and rocket launchers at any target that dared to show its face, a storm of metal tearing through the air.

However, the resistance from the GNA forces was more ferocious and effective than expected.

Using their familiarity with the terrain, they broke into smaller groups and lay in ambush in half-collapsed buildings, rubble-strewn basements, and crisscrossing narrow alleyways.

The RPG-7 rocket, with a piercing whistle, was launched from an unexpected corner, accurately overturning the armed pickup truck charging at the forefront. The shockwave from the explosion threw the surrounding soldiers into the air like rag dolls.

A sniper's sniper shot is like the Grim Reaper's scythe; almost every shot means a soldier's head or chest explodes in blood, and he collapses to the ground.

The heavy machine gun positions were cleverly set up behind sturdy concrete ruins, and the crossfire blocked the key streets, suppressing the wave of attack at the intersections, leaving behind piles of corpses lying in pools of blood and wounded soldiers groaning in pain.

The battle has completely devolved into the most brutal and deadly urban warfare quagmire.

The struggle for every street and alley turned into a repeated tug-of-war.

Haftar's forces have paid a heavy price. Just when they have cleared a building, it could be retaken in an instant by rockets fired from the flank or by GNA soldiers emerging from tunnels with grenades and automatic rifles.

The ruins were littered with the twisted corpses of soldiers from both sides, and blood soaked the rubble, forming dark red streams in the low-lying areas.

The screams of the wounded, the hoarse roars of the officers, the thuds of bullets hitting the walls, the booming of exploding shells...

They intertwine to form a symphony of death that drives one to the brink of madness.

Song Heping stood beside the command vehicle, holding a high-powered telescope, calmly observing the battlefield.

The firelight illuminated his cold, hard-edged face, and his gaze, behind the lenses of his binoculars, swept over every stalemate in the neighborhood, and every window spewing deathly flames.

He witnessed the bravery of Haftar's forces and the tenacity of the GNA soldiers, who fought like cornered beasts.

Time ticked by, each second meaning the loss of more lives, while the advance of the battlefront was frustratingly slow.

While he was observing the battlefield, Haftar rushed over.

"Mr. Song...I..."

He wanted to explain why, several hours after the afternoon's phone call, the street fighting in Savinnu seemed to have made no progress.

But Song Heping interrupted him, raised his hand to signal him to be quiet, and then continued to observe the distant battle through high-powered binoculars, as meticulously as a doctor analyzing an X-ray.

Suddenly, a frontline commander of Haftar, his face smeared with gunpowder and blood, staggered over, his voice hoarse and almost inaudible: "General! East District... D3 Block! We've charged three times! Almost two platoons have died! They... they've blown up buildings and blocked the intersection! The machine gun fire is too intense! There are also snipers on the flanks! We can't get through! Requesting artillery fire! Blow that place up completely!"

"We don't have enough shells! Hold on for now, try using RPGs!"

"I've tried it. The RPG's penetration power is average, and since it's a direct-fire weapon, its power isn't great either. The effect is barely noticeable..."

"I see!"

Haftar waved his hand: "Go, and your men stabilize the front line first, temporarily halt the offensive, and wait for the artillery shells to arrive."

"Yes, General!"

After the frontline commander left, Song Heping put down his binoculars, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.

Flatten it?

Just then, his satellite phone vibrated in his pocket.

Opening the message, there was only one line of text:

[Wild dogs have left their den. Target: Savinnu. Number: 3,000. Estimated arrival: within 72 hours.]

Song Heping narrowed his eyes slightly.

Saif indeed staked his last bet.

He mobilized all three thousand troops defending Benghazi and sent them to Savinnu, this meat grinder, with only one goal—to pin Haftar's elite main force down here at all costs!

I had previously thought that it would take at least five days for these reinforcements to assemble, depart, and arrive.

In retrospect, Saif was no fool when his life hung by a thread; he knew Savinu's importance and staked everything on the table.

This suggests that the Americans must have made a promise to him that the weapons would arrive in Benghazi soon.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have been so reckless as to transfer all the troops defending Benghazi to the city. If Savinnu were to fall, Benghazi would be completely defenseless and would be captured effortlessly.

But if Saif can just hold out for these three most difficult days, and wait for reinforcements from the west to arrive, and then wait for the life-saving munitions to arrive at Jebuti Port...

The tide of battle will turn in an instant!

Time has become the most deadly poison.

We must take down Savinnu within three days and threaten Benghazi!

Otherwise, all our efforts will be in vain!
Unless they can actually blow up the Marlin, they will face a terrible situation.

In commanding a battle, victory or defeat often hinges on a subtle but crucial point, a critical turning point, and that crucial point is clearly Savinnu.

This important town in northern Lebia became the gambling table for both sides.

Saif went all in.

What about yourself?
To follow or not to follow?
If they could successfully destroy the Marlin, it would be the most effective way to win—Saif would completely lose any hope of turning the tide, and the morale of Savinnu's GNA garrison and the three thousand reinforcements would collapse instantly.

but……

Jebuty Port is heavily guarded by US troops, its defenses as tight as an iron barrel. Although the 1.5 billion bounty is high, it's uncertain whether anyone would dare to tread this forbidden zone...

What are the chances of success?

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)