Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1058 Face to Face

The night in the northern suburbs of Tehran was filled with a deathly stillness.

Zahdi's residence is nestled in this so-called "slightly upscale" community, a detached Arabic-style villa with its own courtyard.

The moonlight stingily spilled onto the sand-colored walls and meticulously trimmed low shrubs, outlining a silent and cold silhouette.

The convoy glided like ghosts onto a nearby street and silently pulled over to the side of the road.

After the engine was turned off, a deep silence immediately enveloped us, carrying the smell of metal and dust.

A figure dressed in civilian clothes, but with a soldier's rhythmic gait, quickly emerged from the shadows, stood at attention before Afanti, and said in a very low voice: "General, the target area has been sealed off at the highest level. The front and rear doors, all flank passages, are under control, and infrared surveillance shows the target is still in the main indoor activity area. Communication jamming has been implemented, and both landline and mobile signals are being monitored and blocked. No one has entered or left since the encirclement was completed. All silence, awaiting your orders."

His sharp gaze swept over Kafwan and Song Heping behind Afanti, finally settling on the general's face.

"Well, well done."

Afanti's voice was deep and steady, without any discernible emotion.

He pushed open the car door and stepped onto the cold road.

Kafvan and two bodyguards followed closely behind.

Song Heping was the last to get off the bus, his movements deliberately relaxed. He habitually glanced around—the dark windows of the houses looked like countless empty eyes.

He understood that the Revolutionary Guard's counterintelligence department had acted swiftly and decisively: a silent evacuation and a complete clearing of the area.

When dealing with an intelligence chief of Zahdi's caliber, the silence before a full-scale assault often foreshadows a scene of bullets flying everywhere in the next second.

The group walked in silence, the sound of their boots scraping the pavement sounding particularly jarring in the deathly stillness.

Soon, they arrived at the street corner.

Zahdi's courtyard and the sleek villa were right in front of me. The curtains were drawn, and only a room on the second floor let out a faint, dim light, like the one eye of a lurking beast.

The lieutenant colonel in charge of directing the arrest operation strode forward, stopped beside Afanti, and whispered, "General, the assault team and sniper team are in position. The target shows no signs of unusual movement. Please give the order."

Nasreddin did not respond.

He simply stood in the shadows around the corner, his gaze fixed on the house.

Time passed in silence.

The lieutenant colonel remained standing at attention, sweat silently soaking the hairline on his forehead, but dared not urge him on.

Kavvan's hand unconsciously touched the holster at his waist several times, then put it down again.

Everyone knew what the man waiting to be arrested meant to the general—not just a blood relative, but also a "son" he had painstakingly nurtured and raised.

Song Heping leaned against the wall, his gaze passing over Afanti's stiff back and landing on the tightly closed door.

He understood the weight of this silence, and he also understood the turmoil in Afanti's heart at that moment.

To create something with your own hands, and then destroy it with your own hands—what a feeling...

A full minute later, Afanti's voice broke the silence, deep and resolute, leaving no room for negotiation: "You all wait here. I'll go in myself."

"General!"

Kafvan practically roared, rushing in front of Afanti and instinctively raising his arm as if to stop him.

“Absolutely not! Zahdi… he’s already proven to be a traitor! He’s ‘Poison Needle’! If you go in alone, and he goes all in…”

Perhaps feeling that what he was about to say was too unpleasant, he didn't dare to continue.

"General, the risk is too high!"

The lieutenant colonel couldn't help but step forward, his voice urgent, "Please allow me to send a strike team to accompany you, or I can go in first..."

Afanti finally turned his gaze away from the villa and slowly swept it over his subordinates.

“This is my order.” His voice was firm and resolute.

"No one is to approach the gate without my signal. Anyone who disobeys will be dealt with according to military law."

His gaze finally settled on Kafvan, a complex and unspoken meaning in his eyes. "Kafvan, hold this position. That's an order."

Song Heping remained silent, looking at Afanti with a calm expression.

When Afanti's gaze briefly met his, Song Heping nodded very slightly—not in agreement, but in understanding.

He understood Afanti's determination to face the bitter cup of his own making alone, and the general's obsession with an answer, an explanation, even if that answer might come with a deadly bullet.

Afanti stopped looking at anyone, and strode alone toward the tightly closed courtyard gate.

Zahdi had already seen everything outside through the gap in the second-floor curtains.

The blinding car lights went out, and figures gathered at the street corner. Finally, that familiar, unforgettable figure walked out alone...

He knew the end was near.

The carefully crafted tranquility outside the window is the last illusion before the storm arrives.

A cold smile crept across his lips, then he calmly lowered the curtains, turned, and went downstairs.

As Afanti pushed open the half-closed gate, walked through the meticulously maintained but now deathly quiet courtyard, and stepped onto the steps in front of the villa, the heavy oak door was silently pulled open from the inside.

Zahdi stood in the shadows inside the doorway, his face unusually pale in the dim light of the entryway wall lamp, but his eyes were unusually calm.

"uncle."

His voice was very soft, with a barely perceptible hoarseness.

Afanti did not respond, but gave him a deep look, a gaze so heavy it seemed to pierce his soul.

He slipped into the room, and Zahdi quietly closed the door behind him.

It shielded us from all the tense stares and the cold night wind.

The living room was covered with a thick Isfahan handmade carpet with intricate and gorgeous patterns.

Zahdi didn't go to the sofa, but went straight to the center of the carpet and sat down cross-legged. He pointed to the seat opposite him.

Afanti silently took off his military cap, placed it on a low table beside him, and sat down in the same manner.

The two sat facing each other, separated by a low hardwood coffee table inlaid with seashell patterns.

Zahdi picked up a delicate silver teapot, his movements steady without the slightest tremor, and poured amber-colored black tea into two small porcelain cups.

The rising steam blurred the brief eye contact between the two.

The aroma of tea filled the air, but it couldn't dispel the smell of death in the air.

Time flows silently, each second like a dance on a taut string.

Outside, all of Afanti's men stared nervously at the hut, their fingers on the triggers, ready to rush in at any moment.

As for Song Heping, he remained calm.

He sat on a stone on the street corner, coldly watching the dim yellow light shining from the room in the distance.

"Don't worry, your general will be fine."

He said.

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)