Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1042 Don't be impulsive
"American."

Song Heping's voice gradually turned cold.

"They're planning to use this summit to set a trap for me and you."

He pointed to the first document: "This is a draft statement from the U.S. State Department. They intend to use the 'terrorist mercenary leader' label to pin the blame on me at the meeting, accusing me of 'war crimes' in Savinnu. The goal is to get everyone in the African Union to sanction me, through means including but not limited to freezing assets, banning me from entering the country, and extradition!"

Haftar's eyes sharpened as he grabbed the tablet and quickly scanned its contents, his face growing increasingly dark.

Song Heping turned to the next document: "This is the CIA's 'Operation Scavenger.' The core is to cut off all my access to Africa through sanctions and isolation, forcing me out of Africa."

He emphasized, “Then in a ‘more suitable place’—that is, a place where I’m no longer protected—get rid of me! This thing specifically emphasizes the pressure on you, the general, and the Sultan, Sena, and those places, forcing you to cut ties with me and kick me out. I have to say, it’s a really vicious tactic.”

"Fuck it!"

Haftar couldn't help but swear.

Song Heping smiled and flipped to the third report: "And here, ODNI, along with the CIA and DIA, portrayed me as a profit-driven 'powder keg' ready to ignite Africa at any moment. What's even more insidious is..."

"They insist they have 'concrete intelligence' showing that I have 'secret connections' with extremists in North Africa and the Sahel. This is to make sure no one dares to take me in!"

Haftar scoffed, "Bullshit! Utter slander! Just like when we launched the war against Ili, they just fabricated a report and said you were guilty! The Americans have been doing this despicable thing for years and they're still not tired of it! Song, what you did in Lebia was help us fight real terrorists, right? Who is Saif? He really was a warlord who rose to power as a leader of an extremist group, and the Americans didn't even say they wanted to sanction him before. They even gave him military aid! Now that guy is dead, and I'm in charge, they jump out and accuse you of being a terrorist? This is a complete distortion of the truth!"

Song Heping nodded, his tone sarcastic: "That's right, General. These are the sons of bitches politicians in Washington. Compared to them, I, a mercenary leader with blood on my hands, am as pure as a white lotus. They can't swallow the humiliation Savinnu suffered, and Washington politicians, unable to play openly, resort to underhanded tactics, using a political noose to retaliate against me. This summit was a platform they set up. Inviting you there is ostensibly an acknowledgment of you, but in reality, they want to use this stinking report in front of all the African leaders to force you and others to make a statement on the spot and kick me out! If I refuse, they can legitimately provide military support under the guise of counterterrorism; if you dare to refuse, the American draft specifies 'countermeasures'—trade cut-off, financial sanctions, and even blockade of your key ports and shipping lanes!"

"boom!"

Haftar slammed his fist on the thick wooden table, making cups and documents bounce around.

"Shameless! Despicable! Fuck his ancestors!"

Haftar roared furiously, grabbed the invitation, and without even glancing at it, screamed, "Rip—rip—!"

It was torn to shreds in a few swift movements, thrown violently to the ground, and then stomped on several times with military boots, as if stepping on the head of an enemy.

"You want me to go to Addis Ababa and be their puppet? Dream on! You want to force me to sell you out under threat? No way! I'm not going to this bullshit summit! Get the hell out of here, Americans!"

Haftar paced back and forth in his office like an enraged lion, panting heavily.

Shredded paper stuck to the soles of his boots.

Song Heping waited quietly for him to vent.

For such a strong person who values ​​honor, being used as a pawn feels worse than being shot.

"General."

Song Heping's voice rang out again, calm as cold iron, suppressing some of Haftar's anger, "Just getting angry won't help. Tearing that thing apart is satisfying, but it's not a good move."

Haftar stopped, glaring at Song Heping, and said, "Song, what do you mean? Do you want me to fall into that trap set against you?"

Not entirely.

Song Heping said calmly, “If you don’t go, it’s exactly what they want. They’ll immediately say you’re guilty and that you’re protecting ‘terrorists,’ which will allow them to intensify sanctions and turn your newly acquired admission into nothing, or even a scapegoat! All the mud will be thrown at those who don’t cooperate.”

Haftar frowned; he knew Song Heping was telling the truth.

The filth of politics far surpasses that of the battlefield. Anger was gradually replaced by a chilling sense of crisis.

"Then... what should I do?"

Haftar's voice lowered, filled with anxiety.

"Time, General, we still have a week."

Song Heping walked to the window, slightly pulled back the curtains, and looked at the city outside, which was scorching in the sunlight but was also teeming with undercurrents.

“A week is enough to get a lot done. We need to use this week to disrupt their plans and thwart their schemes.”

He turned around, his eyes sharp as an eagle's: "First, you need to calm down immediately. Pretend the tearing up of the invitation never happened. You need to contact the African Union Secretariat right away, express your 'sincere gratitude,' 'welcome acceptance,' and guarantee your 'attendance on time' to contribute to 'Libyan peace and African stability.' You need to put on a good show, making them think you're still fucking ecstatic and know nothing about America's underhanded tricks."

Haftar's eyes flickered, and he nodded.

"second."

Song Heping continued, “This intelligence was ‘accidentally’ leaked by the French. Do you know what that means? It means that the French don’t want the Americans to dominate, and they don’t want me to be killed so quickly. They want to use me and the power I control to restrain the Americans. Since that’s the case, I can take advantage of that. What do the French want? Nothing more than oil and dominance in counterterrorism. We can give them some sweeteners so that they won’t cooperate so much with the Americans’ script at the summit.”

Haftar seemed thoughtful: "The Frenchman... Charles just left... He talked a lot about future oil cooperation..."

"at last."

Song Heping interrupted Haftar: "That's the most important thing. The Americans want to force me out of Africa and cut off the roots of 'Musician's' defense? Then I'll show them how deep my roots are in Africa!"

As he spoke, he walked up to Haftar.

"General, on my way here, I saw the street scenes of this city, and to be honest, I was quite moved and thought about it a lot. Wait for my news, listen to my instructions, and I guarantee that those Washington politicians will be left with nothing to do but raise their fists!"

"I believe you, Mr. Song."

Haftar clearly has great confidence in Song Heping.

"You tell me what to do, and I'll do it! If those Americans keep trying to talk their way out of it, I'll just give you a senior government advisor position and see what they do then!"

"You acted impulsively, General!"

Song Heping smiled with satisfaction.

Haftar's performance showed that he wasn't faking it.

This person knows right from wrong, and knows who can truly help him and who is just using him.

Saif's example serves as a stark warning; those who dance to the tune of Western politicians will ultimately meet a gruesome end.

"Then I'll wait for your news!"

"Well, I'll go back tonight and refine my plan. I also need to make some preliminary arrangements. At that time, not only you, but also Sudan, Senegal, and other countries will act in accordance with my plan. Don't worry, you are not alone."

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)