Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1060 Song Heping's Plan
Zahdi's blood still seemed to be stuck deep in his nasal cavity and had not yet dissipated.

Seven days have passed since that night filled with desperate gunfire.

Seven days is enough for the tense atmosphere on the streets of Tehran to ease slightly, enough for some people to begin to forget, but for Song Heping, time is just a measure of wound healing and a pendulum that marks the beginning of the countdown to his revenge plan.

That morning, he was practicing shooting at a secret underground firing range at an army base.

A gun is like a wife; if you don't use it, it will become unfamiliar.

Therefore, Song Heping would practice shooting whenever he had the chance.

The air in the underground firing range was cold, filled with the familiar smell of gunpowder and engine oil.

In Song Heping's hand was a well-maintained M4 carbine, fitted with a silencer and a simple red dot sight.

He used a standard standing shooting posture, and the target was a 100mm half-body portrait target.

boom!boom!boom!boom!boom!
Five rapid bursts of fire.

The bullet tore through the air and precisely embedded itself in the bullseye, leaving five closely connected bullet holes.

The spent cartridges clattered and rolled onto the cold concrete floor.

Song Heping released the trigger, letting the muzzle drop naturally.

He removed his ear protectors, and for a moment, only his own heavy breathing and the faint rustling of the target changer pulling the target paper in the distance could be heard in the shooting range.

He moved his stiff left shoulder; the wound didn't seem to have fully healed, and there was still a slight, lingering pain.

"The recovery is going well, Song."

A deep voice sounded behind him.

Song Heping didn't turn around; he simply put the safety off the M4 and placed it on the gun rack next to him.

He picked up a piece of velvet cloth and slowly wiped the sweat and gunpowder residue off the gun.

“General.” His voice was calm, devoid of emotion. “I thought you would come to me a few days later.”

The visitor was none other than Afanti.

He was dressed in casual clothes.

After a few days apart, a lingering heaviness and weariness appeared between his brows.

His eyes were even more sunken than they had been seven days ago, with bloodshot whites, as if he had endured countless sleepless nights.

The gaze fell on Song Heping, scrutinizing him, and carrying a complex emotion that Song Heping had already anticipated.

“What is supposed to come will come.”

Afanti walked to Song Heping's side, his gaze sweeping over the dense bullet holes on the target paper in the distance, before settling on Song Heping's bandaged left shoulder.

"Your marksmanship hasn't deteriorated, but your injury..."

"I won't die. I'm very resilient, that's what the fortune teller said."

Song Heping interrupted him, put down the gun cleaning cloth, picked up the water bottle next to him, and took a sip of cold water.

"Besides, what is this pain compared to the explosion in Zahdi's brain?"

Afanti's eyes suddenly darkened, as if he had been stabbed hard by those words.

The air at the firing range seemed to grow even heavier.

"You guessed what I was going to talk about?"

Afanti's voice became even deeper.

Song Heping finally turned around and faced Afanti.

He met the other person's bloodshot yet still sharp gaze directly.

"Zahdi is dead, and the trail has gone cold? Or... are there too many clues, making them too hot to handle?"

He smiled slightly and said, "General, your eyes tell me that the waters of this investigation are deep enough to flood the entire city of Tehran."

Afanti remained silent for a moment.

The cold lights from the firing range ceiling cast deep shadows on his face.

He did not deny Song Heping's observation, but took a deep breath, a heavy breath as if he had inhaled the filth of the entire country.

"You're half right, Song."

Afanti's voice suppressed the storm, "The trail hasn't gone cold. On the contrary, Zahdi... has left us a 'gift' enough to destroy everything."

Song Heping raised an eyebrow slightly, waiting for the next part.

"In his safe house, we found an encrypted hard drive and some specially processed fragments of communication records."

Afanti's voice was low and cold, "And... there's a letter left for me."

"letter?"

Song Heping was somewhat surprised.

How could someone as resolute as Zahdi, who was determined to die, leave behind letters?

It seems he may have foreseen his fate.

"Yes. A... confession? Or rather, an indictment."

Afanti's expression became complicated.

"He used his last moments to write down everything he knew. This information was like a dagger coated with deadly poison, piercing deep into the heart of the country's power structure."

He paused for a moment, as if organizing his thoughts, or perhaps suppressing the anger that was about to erupt.

"The list is long, Song. Breathtakingly long. Not only are there 'moles' lurking within us—traitors carrying CIA or Mossad gold—their identities, locations, contact information… even more terrifying…"

Afanti's voice was almost squeezed out between his teeth, "He listed those who were manipulating things behind the scenes, or even directly involved in treason. They are not minor figures, Song."

Song Heping's expression instantly turned extremely serious: "The four major families? One? Or all of them?"

"part……"

Afanti nodded heavily, as if bearing an immense burden.

"The target is very clear. Especially... the Holy Descendant family."

Song Heping was no stranger to this name.

In the complex power structure of Persia, four major families—the powerful faction that controlled the vast commercial empire and paramilitary forces of the Revolutionary Guard, the financial faction that controlled the economic lifeline and religious foundations of the country, the hawk faction that occupied the judicial and intelligence systems, and the holy lineage faction that held a prestigious position, claimed to be of religious lineage, and whose influence permeated all fields—formed the cornerstone of this theocratic republic.

They checked and balanced each other, yet also infiltrated each other's influence, jointly maintaining this vast and peculiar system. "The Holy Descendant Family..."

Song Heping pondered the name, "Didn't they... lose power in the previous power reshuffle?"

"It's precisely because they've lost power!"

Afanti's voice suddenly rose, filled with barely suppressed indignation, "Those noble lords who call themselves descendants of prophets! They are unwilling to lose control of the Revolutionary Guard and the intelligence system, unwilling to watch the 'power brokers' and 'financial magnates' divide up the interests they once had in their grasp! Once you've tasted power, losing it is the greatest torture!"

He slammed his fist into the metal gun rack next to him, making a loud "bang" that echoed for a long time in the empty shooting range.

"So, they chose the most despicable method—colluding with the enemy! Becoming CIA spies! The fact that 'Operation Poison Needle' could infiltrate so deeply, operate under our noses for so long, and accurately obtain your entry route... would be impossible without their level of internal support!"

Afanti's chest heaved violently.

Song Heping could tell that he was very angry.

"Zahdi wrote very clearly in his letter. He was recruited and seduced by the remaining power of the Holy Family within the Guard, promised huge rewards and a high position in the future. They painted a beautiful picture for him: with the support of the CIA, the existing order would be overthrown, the Holy Family would regain power, and some kind of 'reconciliation' would be reached with the West... How ironic! A group of people who rose to power on the label of 'anti-American fighter' turned around and embraced the 'Great Satan' they called them in order to regain power! Zahdi... what a fool! He thought he was a chess player, but he was just a pawn that could be sacrificed at any time in someone else's power game!"

Song Heping listened quietly, and he could feel the deep-seated sorrow and helplessness in Afanti's words.

The truth is often uglier than we imagine.

"Is the evidence conclusive?" Song Heping asked.

"Some of the data on the hard drive has been cracked, pointing to several key figures in the inner circle of the Holy Lineage family, including their direct communication channels with the CIA. Zahdi's letters provide more specific details and a more detailed analysis of motives; the logical chain is very complete. But..."

Afanti's voice lowered, filled with bitterness and helplessness, "Not enough. Or rather, not enough for a public trial of them."

"Because their surname is 'Saint's Descendant'?"

Song Heping's tone carried a hint of sarcasm.

"Yes."

Afanti readily admitted it, his tone heavy.

"Their surname and their bloodline possess unimaginable religious appeal and popular support in this country. They are one of the symbols of this theocratic system. To publicly accuse them of treason is tantamount to publicly tearing apart the very foundation upon which this country exists! It will trigger unpredictable turmoil, even... civil war. Power brokers and tycoons will seize the opportunity to kick them while they're down, while the hawks will stand by or even fuel the flames, and the supporters of the Holy Lineage families, those fanatical believers... they won't believe the evidence, they'll only believe it's political persecution! It's a conspiracy by other families to eliminate dissidents!"

He wearily rubbed his temples. "The highest levels... are furious, but even more terrified of the consequences of revealing the truth. The final decision is... to handle it quietly. Those 'mole's' who were named will disappear without a trace. As for the Holy Descendants... we'll leave them alone for now. They will be closely monitored, their power will be further undermined, and all their overseas assets will be secretly frozen... but on the surface, they will still be the esteemed 'Holy Descendants.' We can only wait, wait for a more suitable opportunity, or... wait for them to make a fatal mistake themselves."

Song Heping silently took out a piece of chewing gum, unwrapped it, and popped it into his mouth.

He could understand Afanti's predicament.

In a country like Persia, shaking its symbolic family requires not only evidence, but also timing and absolute power to withstand the storm.

The current Afanti clearly does not yet possess the latter qualities.

He was merely a general commanding elite troops, not a chess player with overall strategic control.

"I understand, General."

Song Heping turned his gaze to the empty target position in the distance.

"You have your battlefield, your rules, and your constraints. This result, though frustrating, is also reasonable."

Afanti looked at Song Heping with a complicated expression: "Song, Zahdi's death has led to clues pointing to the Holy Family, but that doesn't mean the threat to you is over. The CIA has suffered a great loss. Although their spy network has been severely damaged, the core remains, especially the Holy Family connection. They won't let you go. Staying in Persia is not safe for you. The Guard... is not a monolithic entity either."

His words were pointed, clearly indicating that he also had deep doubts about loyalty within the organization.

Song Heping laughed: "General, do you think I came to Persia this time merely to seek refuge? To recuperate from my injuries?"

Afanti's eyes narrowed: "Hmm?"

"I'm here to fight back."

Song Heping's voice was not loud, but every word was as firm as iron.

"The CIA orchestrated this ambush, and this blood debt must be repaid in blood. Did they think they were safe hiding behind the scenes? They've been relentlessly hunting me down, and this time they've even resorted to political pressure on other countries. If I don't retaliate, I'll be showing the CIA a huge disrespect. I'll make them know that anyone who touches our people or our interests will pay a hundredfold price!"

"Fight back?"

Afanti frowned, a hint of mockery creeping into his voice: "What are you planning to do? Go all out and storm back to CIA headquarters?"

"of course not."

A hunter's glint flashed in Song Heping's eyes. "It would be foolish to confront the intelligence empire head-on. I'm going to a place that the Americans care about, but are too far away to reach, and might even end up shooting themselves in the foot."

"where?"

"Northwest of Iligo"

Song Heping clearly pronounced the place name.

A flicker of surprise and confusion crossed Afanti's eyes: "Northwest Iligo? That place is hell now! The Americans are accelerating their withdrawal, and the vacuum they've left behind is almost entirely occupied by those mad dogs from the '1515' organization! What are you going there for? To die? And what does this have to do with counterattacking the CIA?"

Song Heping walked to a simple table, poured some water from the water bottle, dipped his finger in the water, and began to draw a simple map on the dusty tabletop.

"General, look here."

He pointed to a location representing the northwest of Iligo.

"First, Iriego is a huge scar for the Americans, a 'democratic showcase' that they 'built' with astronomical sums of money and the lives of soldiers. Although they are now eager to withdraw, seeing it as a mess, if 1515 completely swallows up the entire Iriego region, or even threatens the Kold'd Autonomous Region, it would mean establishing an extremist stronghold on America's doorstep, directly threatening their core allies in the Middle East. This is something they absolutely cannot tolerate."

"So, don't be fooled by their current retreat. They'll come back to bomb us sooner or later, and might even send ground troops again, even if they themselves tolerated or supported 1515 in order to destabilize Syria. When it comes to interests, they can turn on you faster than flipping through a book. I've gone in advance to lay the groundwork, cultivating a truly capable, well-established force in the northwest that's willing to fight 1515 to the death, and controlling key nodes. When the Americans have to come back to clean up the mess, they'll find that this is no longer a blank slate where they can bomb us or support new proxies at will. Our people control the territory, and if the Americans want to make a move, they'll have to weigh the costs, and might even be forced to cooperate with us, or at least acquiesce to our existence. This is called 'throwing a stone at a rat for fear of breaking the vase.'"

Afanti's gaze followed Song Heping's finger, lost in thought.

“Second,” Song Heping pointed westward, across Seria and Libanen, then towards Yemen, “General, you are playing a grand game—the ‘Ten-Leaf Arc.’ The northwestern part of Ilig, especially the area near the Seria border, is the most crucial and also the most vulnerable piece of this strategic arc!”

"Whoever controls this place holds the key to the land route between Syria and Persia, and also affects the stability of the Pearl Party's logistical supply lines. Only when this land is in the hands of pro-Persian forces can your 'arc' truly be connected, forming a substantial strategic encirclement and deterrence against a common enemy. Conversely, if this place is controlled by 1515 or the Kurds supported by the Americans, your 'arc' will be cut in half."

Afanti's gaze was filled with shock and a sense of reassessment.

He never expected that this Chinese man, who came from a mercenary background, would have such a profound understanding of the complex sectarian geopolitics of the Middle East, and even point out one of his most core strategic ideas!

This is far beyond the perspective of an ordinary mercenary.

"third."

Song Heping pointed his finger at Celia again.

"My old friend 'The Cook'... you know, he's in Cyria now, fighting for the government forces, mainly against 1515 and those opposition groups that have taken money from the West. 1515's logistics and personnel movement largely depend on this passage in northwestern Iligo. If we can control this area, it's like cutting off a major artery for 1515, leaving them vulnerable to attacks from both sides on the Cyrian front!"

"At that time, the situation in Syria will rapidly tilt towards the government forces. The Russians have invested heavily in Syria, and what they need most is a force that can cut off 1515's rear. If we succeed, guess what the Soviet Union will think? They will be eager to extend an olive branch and offer a huge sum of money to win us over! Syrian oil contracts? Cooperation on military bases? Even mediation to lift some sanctions against you Persia? All are possible! Helping the Russians gain a foothold in Syria is like stabbing the Hoopoe and the Americans in the back! This is also the loudest counterattack against the CIA!"

After Song Heping finished speaking, he stared intently at Afanti: "General, do you still think that my going to northwestern Iligo is suicide?"

　Please give me a monthly ticket, please give me a monthly ticket! ! ! !

　　
　
(End of this chapter)