Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1041 Another Kind of War

The scorching Mediterranean sun generously poured down on the terrace of a seaside villa along Tripoli's Mediterranean Boulevard, making the white railings and floor tiles scorch.

In the distance, the port's ruins, blackened by gunfire, are faintly visible, creating a stark contrast with the unrealistically azure sea nearby.

Song Heping, dressed in loose beach shorts, sat in a large rattan lounge chair, squinting at the shimmering sea. The lingering sharpness in the depths of his eyes showed that his nerves were never truly relaxed.

The sound of hurried footsteps came from inside the villa.

Henry came out of the house, walked over to him, and whispered, "Boss, the Frenchman Charles's convoy entered Marshal Haftar's temporary command post five minutes ago. He brought two assistants and four bodyguards; quite a entourage."

Song Heping picked up the ice water and took a big gulp, his gaze still fixed on the distant sea: "What's the feedback from Haftar's side?"

"There's no official news yet. However..."

Henry lowered his voice, "Our men stationed outside command noticed that one of Charles's assistants, while waiting to be received, seemed to have 'accidentally' left an encrypted USB drive in the sofa cushions of the lounge. We've got it, the tech team is working on cracking it, and it should be soon."

Song Heping's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly.

Charles is a veteran agent of the French Directorate General for External Security (DGSE) and now holds the title of Special Envoy of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

This "unintentional loss" could only be a carefully designed signal transmission.

What are the French trying to say?
What else do you want to gain?
"Understood. Get it to me as soon as you crack it."

Song Heping stood up and walked to the edge of the terrace, holding onto the still-hot railing, gazing towards the city.

Haftar's command post was located in that area filled with half-ruined buildings.

Tripoli appears calm under the sun for the time being, but beneath the calm lies a silent power struggle among various factions.

Charles's arrival was by no means simply a congratulatory gesture.

The French have always been adept at seizing profits amidst chaos.

Less than half an hour later, Henry returned and handed a tablet computer to Song Heping.

The screen displayed scans of several declassified documents, labeled with the highest level of secrecy in French.

The contents of several documents made Song Heping's eyes turn icy cold instantly.

One is the core points of a draft statement prepared by the U.S. State Department to be submitted to the African Union summit.

The wording was extremely harsh, directly characterizing Song Heping as "the leader of a terrorist mercenary group that has created massive bloodshed and chaos on the African continent," and accusing him and his "Musician" defense group of committing "war crimes" in places like Savinnu.

The African Union has called on all member states to impose comprehensive sanctions on Song Heping, including freezing his assets, banning him from entering the country, and extraditing him.

The document concludes with a list of potential "countermeasures" the United States might take against uncooperative countries, ranging from trade restrictions and financial sanctions to "security controls" (i.e., blockades) of key ports and waterways.

Another document is a top-secret memo from the CIA's Office of Operations (DO) to the White House National Security Council, codenamed "Operation Scavenger."

The core strategy is crystal clear: through AU sanctions and diplomatic isolation, cut off all of Song Heping's networks of protection in Africa, force him to leave the African continent, and ultimately eliminate him in a "more suitable environment".

The memorandum specifically outlined the steps to pressure Haftar and the key points requiring British and French cooperation.

Vincent's name was prominently listed.

The last document is the most important.

This is a joint assessment report titled "The Threat to Regional Stability in Africa Possible by Song Heping and His Organization," led by the Office of the Director of National Intelligence (ODNI) and completed in conjunction with multiple agencies including the CIA and DIA (Defense Intelligence Agency).

The report went to great lengths to exaggerate, portraying Song Heping as a profit-driven, unscrupulous "regional powder keg" who could ignite conflict in neighboring countries at any moment, and claiming "concrete intelligence" that Song Heping "may" have "secret connections" with extremist groups in North Africa and the Sahel region.

This report is clearly a "bombshell" intended for lobbying and pressure at the African Union summit.

"Fuck him!"

Even someone as composed as Song Heping couldn't help but swear.

Shameless!
No.

No words can describe the shamelessness of Americans.

What does it mean to frame someone?

This is not simply a frame-up.

This is blatant slander and conviction.

He meows!
Song Heping's anger flared up again.

He remembered Angel's earlier warning.

As expected, the shamelessness and depravity of Washington politicians were far less than I had imagined.

Compared to those old Washington politicians, he, a mercenary leader who had killed countless people, was as pure as a white lotus!

CIA Director Vincent was indeed not going to swallow this insult, and his methods were even more ruthless and insidious than Vincent had anticipated.

This was no longer a simple military manhunt, but a political campaign aimed at uprooting and burying him completely.

Africa, the land he knows and depends on for survival, is being woven into a giant noose by Washington.

But impulsiveness and anger won't solve the problem.

Song Heping vaguely sensed that this hurdle would be more difficult, greater, and more complex than the ones he had faced before.

If I'm not careful, I'll be completely finished.

Sometimes, political means are far more ruthless and effective than military means.

He put down his tablet, his fingertips tapping unconsciously on the scorching railing, producing a dull thud, like the drumbeats before a military review.

The sun was still blazing, and the sea breeze still carried a salty tang, but the atmosphere on the terrace had frozen.

Henry stood beside Song Heping. He also realized the importance of the matter, but he had no way to solve it. He could only hold his breath and wait for orders.

"Henry."

"Boss."

"Do a few things."

Song Heping's voice regained its absolute calm: "First, notify everyone in Sudan, Senegal, and Lebia to immediately raise the alert level and enter a state of war. Although our relationship with the governments of these places seems to be very good, we must not trust anyone, not even so-called friends."

"understand!"

Henry seemed to understand the meaning behind Song Heping's words and nodded repeatedly.

"Second, contact some of our informants within these countries and, through the safest channels, 'inadvertently' leak the core content of the US sanctions draft, especially the punitive clauses targeting non-cooperative countries, to key figures within their governments who have close ties to us. Let them know who the Americans will target. This must be done cleanly, without leaving a trace. After all, Charles deliberately leaked it to me, and I can't let him get dragged into this."

"Yes! Do it immediately!"

Henry readily agreed at first, but a hint of suspicion quickly crept onto his face.

Why would the French tell us this?

“Interests,” Song Heping said. “Can’t you see? He doesn’t want me to die at the hands of the Americans so soon. With me here, I can play a very good role in curbing the expansion of American power in Africa, especially in the Sahel region. Don’t be fooled by the fact that the French seem to be friends of the Americans. These French have their own plans. They don’t want the Americans to extend their claws too far in their backyard.”

"Understood……"

"third."

Song Heping turned around, his gaze sharp as lightning. "Tell Bai Xiong and Jiang Feng to prepare a car immediately. I'm going to see Haftar in person." "Understood!"

"Let's take care of these things for now."

"OK, I'll arrange it right away."

After saying that, Henry quickly turned and left.

Song Heping got up and stood alone on the edge of the terrace, looking out at the sea once more.

Suddenly, the sky darkened in the distance, and dark clouds appeared on the horizon.

A strange phenomenon occurred in the entire sea area—dark clouds covered the distance while the sun shone brightly nearby, creating a scene of contrasting light and darkness that felt unreal.

Washington has thrown the noose, aiming to tighten it around its own neck.

But do you want to force yourself out of Africa?

He picked up the glass of ice water on the table, poured the remaining ice cubes and water into his mouth, and chewed them vigorously.

The cold, crunchy bits made a crisp sound between my teeth.

Not that easy!
Ten minutes later, Song Heping boarded the car heading to Haftar's command post.

The roar of the SUV engine shattered the afternoon tranquility of the Mediterranean coast.

Song Heping sat in the back seat, the car window blocking out the glaring sunlight and the war-torn streets outside—collapsed walls and charred ruins.

A group of hungry children chased after the vehicle, stretching out their hands and shouting for food.

The air was filled with dust, gunpowder smoke, and the salty smell of the sea breeze.

Looking out the window at everything, Song Heping fell into deep thought.

For the past ten years, he has been fighting, fighting, and fighting again.

From mercenary to defense company owner, he has never stopped fighting his way through life.

My thinking used to be very simple—to make money.

My thoughts have changed somewhat now.

The money is already quite a lot.

So money is not a problem.

The problem is survival.

That's right.

Alive.

The winner is king.

Once you're at the card table, in a life-or-death situation, there's no turning back.

If you quit, you'll lose your life first.

But I never thought about things I had never thought about before—like the slightly fearful yet longing eyes of the children outside the car window.

They had been chasing their car for a while.

But it was quickly and mercilessly left behind by the SUV.

Some feelings he had never experienced before suddenly touched him, making him feel inexplicably depressed.

The challenges I am about to face are ones I have never encountered before.

It's not something that can be solved by simply leading a group of elite mercenaries to take down a special forces unit or fight a certain armed organization on the battlefield.

This is a war without gunfire.

A different kind of wisdom is needed to resolve this.

He closed his eyes and fell into deep thought.

Haftar's command headquarters is located in a relatively well-preserved large complex of buildings in the city center.

The area is surrounded by layers of sandbags, barbed wire, and pickup trucks equipped with heavy machine guns.

The car was parked at an entrance with a sunshade.

Led by the guards, Song Heping led Bai Xiong and Jiang Feng through the steel-reinforced corridor to a heavy bulletproof door.

The door opened, revealing a spacious but simply furnished office.

Thick bulletproof curtains blocked half of the floor-to-ceiling windows, making the interior dimly lit, with only emergency lights and table lamps for illumination.

General Khalifa Haftar, commander of the Libyan National Army (LNA), was looking at a huge military situation map on the wall with his back to the door.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around. His face was flushed with an undisguised mix of excitement and self-satisfaction.

"Song!"

Haftar, his voice booming, strode up to Song Heping and patted him hard on the shoulder. "You've come at the perfect time! Look at this!"

Without exchanging pleasantries, he grabbed the exquisite invitation from his desk and waved it in front of Song Heping.

"AU Headquarters! Addis Ababa!"

Haftar's eyes lit up. "They've officially invited me to represent the legitimate government of Libya at next week's special summit on African security! The Frenchman Charles just left, bringing with him not only oil but also confirmation from the African Union! This is fucking significant, Song! This means the international community, especially our African brothers, has recognized us! It's historic!"

Song Heping did not smile, but nodded slightly and said, "Congratulations, General. This is indeed a major breakthrough."

There wasn't a trace of joy in his voice.

Haftar was so engrossed in his ecstasy that he didn't notice the seriousness in Song Heping's eyes.

He went to the liquor cabinet, poured a glass of whiskey, and handed it to Song Heping: "Come on! Cheers to our victory!"

Song Heping took the glass but didn't drink it.

He stared at the liquid in the glass, remaining silent.

The brief silence cooled Haftar's heightened emotions slightly. He noticed Song Heping's unusual demeanor, and his smile faded: "Song? Is something on your mind?"

Song Heping raised his eyes and looked directly at Haftar. His calm gaze made the latter's heart tighten for no reason.

Song Heping put down his wine glass, slowly took out a tablet from his jacket and placed it on the table, then brought up the files.

“General,” Song Heping’s voice was deep and clear, “While I’m happy for you, I’ve received some… damn news. About the other side of this summit.”

Haftar's smile froze completely, his brows furrowing: "The other side?"

Song Heping pushed the tablet over, the screen light reflecting Haftar's face, which instantly darkened.

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)