Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1075 I Need a Secret List

The last rays of the setting sun painted the land on the north bank of the dry sandy river, a land that had been thoroughly plowed.

Song Heping took a deep breath of the hot, polluted air and couldn't help but cough violently a few times.

He glanced around at the militiamen around him, who, like him, had narrowly escaped death, and calmly gave the order: "Take a headcount, collect all usable ammunition, water, and food. Treat the seriously wounded first. Nassin, contact the rendezvous point; we need to evacuate immediately."

His command pulled everyone back to reality from their daze.

The instinct for survival drove them to begin acting mechanically.

Their movements were slow and unsteady, each bend as if they had used up all their strength. They silently removed unused magazines from the bodies of their fallen comrades, picked up scattered weapons, and found a few water bottles with only the bottoms left and a few crushed rations.

The entire process was eerily silent, with only heavy breathing and the faint sounds of objects colliding.

The waiting vehicle arrived after nightfall, bumping along a rugged and secluded path.

Seeing the remaining fifty men on the position and the riverbed almost filled with corpses, the "Liberation Front" soldiers who came to meet them were speechless for a long time, their faces filled with indescribable shock.

No one asked what had happened there.

The corpses on the ground and the smell of blood in the air said it all.

They silently and swiftly helped the wounded suicide squad members into the vehicle.

Then they loaded their own bodies onto a truck, started the engine, and drove north.

The convoy made its way through the pitch-black night, without its lights on, towards the northeastern border mountains with great difficulty.

Inside the carriage, a few coughs occasionally broke the silence, followed by groans of pain.

Some began to sob softly, for their fallen comrades and for their own lives that they had been lucky enough to escape with their lives.

Many others leaned against the bulkhead, drifting off to sleep or even unconscious amidst the violent turbulence, their faces still frozen with the ferocity and fear of battle.

Song Heping leaned back in the driver's seat, his eyelids feeling as heavy as a thousand pounds, but he forced himself to stay awake until the vehicle entered the newly built temporary camp at Point A, deep in the mountainous region on the border between Persia and Iligo.

This camp is larger and more concealed than the previous one, clearly indicating that Afanti has invested heavily and prepared it in advance for personnel who might need to evacuate.

It has relatively complete tents, medical stations, ammunition depots, and water purification equipment.

As the convoy entered, the 700 "Liberation Front" members remaining in the camp surrounded them. Seeing that only 50 people had gotten out of the vehicles, and that each of them was wounded and covered in blood, the atmosphere that had been preparing to welcome victory instantly froze, turning into a heavy silence and oppressive sorrow.

After getting off the bus, Song Heping also felt dizzy and lightheaded.

He refused the suggestion to go to the medical station immediately, insisting on ensuring that the fifty suicide squad members were properly cared for first.

Only after the last wounded soldier was carried away did he briefly say a few words to the camp leader who came to greet him, and then dragged his body, which felt like it didn't belong to him, toward the simple single tent assigned to him.

Inside the tent was only a cot, an ammunition box serving as a table, and a bucket. Song Heping didn't even have the strength to take off his combat uniform, which was already caked with blood, sweat, and mud. He simply dragged over a plastic bucket filled with water and splashed the cold water haphazardly on his face.

Only after being stimulated by cold water did he feel the burning pain from the countless tiny wounds on his cheeks and arms.

He hastily wiped the congealed blood off his body with a damp cloth, then slammed down onto his cot like a felled log.

Almost the instant his body touched the bed, the boundless darkness and exhaustion completely swallowed his consciousness.

He slept as if he were dead, without dreams, without a sense of time, only in the deepest, restorative sleep.

He didn't know how much time had passed when a rapid and persistent satellite phone ring pulled him abruptly out of this void.

Song Heping suddenly opened his eyes. The tent was pitch black, and it was quiet outside as well, clearly indicating that it was the middle of the night.

A severe headache and aches and pains throughout his muscles and bones washed over him like a tidal wave, causing him to groan involuntarily.

He fumbled for the satellite phone, and Henry's number appeared on the screen.

"Hey……"

He rubbed his temples and pressed the call button.

"Boss! You're still alive! God, when we lost contact this afternoon, I thought you..."

Henry's voice was filled with incredible excitement.

"The news has spread to the north bank of the dry sandy river. Although it's chaotic, everyone knows that 1515 suffered a crushing defeat there, losing at least two thousand men! How are you...?"

"Fifty left."

Song Heping was concise and to the point, not wanting to talk much about the losses.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, clearly shocked by the number.

"It's...an unimaginable loss. However, there's some major good news! The Americans have made their move! Just a few hours ago, US warplanes took off from their base in the Gulf and launched airstrikes on the 1515 Armed Forces camp, convoys, and command posts near Tikrit! The bombing is still ongoing!"

Song Heping's sleepiness vanished instantly: "Has the news been confirmed?"

"Absolutely confirmed! The Pentagon and the White House have issued brief statements, and NATO has echoed this, announcing necessary military action against the terrorist forces of the 'Levant State'! Your prediction came true! They really have intervened!"

Henry spoke quickly, "The news should be out by now, you'd better check it out yourself!"

"Got it. Keep in touch."

Song Heping hung up the phone and sat up abruptly from his cot, the news temporarily suppressing the aches and pains throughout his body.

He quickly opened his military laptop and connected to the satellite signal.

The cold light from the screen illuminated his tired but unusually focused face. He skillfully opened the pages of several major European news websites and news agencies.

A huge headline was prominently displayed:
US airstrikes in northern Iraq inflict heavy damage on '1515' militia!

NATO announces support for military operations against ISIL.

[White House: The threat of terrorism will not be allowed to spread]

The news report included a blurry image of the explosion's flashes taken at night, along with a screenshot from a Pentagon press conference.

The report confirmed Henry's information, stating that the US military did indeed deploy a large number of warplanes to launch heavy bombing raids on Tikrit, Samarra, and even some 1515 targets in the suburbs of Mosul.

The official explanation is that it was at the request of the Iraqi government to stop further ISIL offensives and protect civilians.

Song Heping grabbed the bottle, took a sip of water, and quickly scanned the lines of text, his brain working at lightning speed.

The situation unfolded exactly as he had predicted, even faster.

The Americans could not stand idly by and watch 1515 grow stronger, directly threatening their interests and regional balance in Illinois.

Just then, hurried footsteps and Samir's suppressed excitement came from outside the tent: "Boss! Are you awake? Big news!"

"Come in."

Song Heping didn't even look up; his gaze remained fixed on the screen.

Samir and Nassin entered the tent one after the other.

Samir's face showed a mixture of excitement, a thirst for revenge, and a hint of exhaustion.

Nassin appeared more cautious, but there was a glint in his eyes.

"The Americans! The Americans have made their move! Just as you predicted, they bombed Tikrit and halted the offensive of the 1515 militia!"

Samir practically shouted it out, waving an old cell phone in his hand; clearly, he had also received the message.

"Those bastards! They finally got their comeuppance! Boss, this is our chance! We should immediately assemble our forces, coordinate with the airstrike, and give 1515 a good kick in the ass! Drive them out of the Northwest region!"

Looking at Song Heping's expression, Nassin added, "The remaining men in the camp are in high spirits after hearing the news; they all want revenge."

Song Heping finally raised his head, his gaze shifting from the computer screen to the two people, especially the emotionally agitated Samir.

He didn't answer immediately, but pondered in silence, his fingers unconsciously tapping the surface of the ammunition box.

The atmosphere inside the tent instantly shifted from excitement to a tense silence. Samir's excitement slowly faded, replaced by confusion: "Boss? What's wrong? Isn't this the opportunity we've been waiting for? While they're stunned by the bombing, we..."

"What are we?"

Song Heping interrupted him, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable weight.

"What are we going to use to fight? The remaining seven hundred or so men in this camp? Or the fifty men that you and I can barely walk with?"

He stood up, stretched, and said, "Samir, look at us now. After a bloody battle, our core commando unit is almost wiped out, everyone is wounded and exhausted. We still have seven hundred ordinary members, but their training and equipment are far from sufficient. We used up most of our ammunition in the valley, our heavy weapons are almost gone, and medicine is scarce. Now, if you lead this poorly armed and outgunned unit up there, are you going to seek revenge, or are you going to deliver our heads to 1515 and let them carry out another massacre?"

Samir opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but couldn't find the words.

Every word Song Heping said was a cold, hard fact.

Nassin nodded silently to the side, as he was well aware of the current resources of the "Liberation Forces" militia.

"But...the opportunity..."

Samir muttered resentfully.

There are many kinds of opportunities.

Song Heping walked to the tent entrance, lifted the curtain, and looked out at the quiet campsite and the dark mountains in the distance.

"If we charge in now, we'll be at best one of many militias retaliating against 1515, and the weakest and most devastated. The Ilkhanate government forces and the 'People's Movement' and other large militia groups will be at the forefront, seizing territory. And us? We'll fight until we're completely wiped out, and then be forgotten by everyone. Is that what you want?"

Samir remained silent.

He craved revenge and victory, but he wasn't stupid; he knew Song Heping was right.

"So what should we do? Just watch?"

He finally asked in a muffled voice, his tone filled with helplessness.

"Of course, I'm not just watching."

Song Heping lowered the curtain, turned around, and said with a deep gaze, "We must wait. We must wait for the best opportunity for our 'Liberation Forces' to take the stage."

"Wait?" Samir asked, puzzled.

"Yes, wait."

Song Heping walked back to the computer and pointed to the screen. “The Americans have intervened, but look at their statements. It’s an airstrike, it’s support. They just withdrew their ground troops from here two years ago, and anti-war sentiment is high in the country. Obama is unlikely to send back a large number of ground troops. This means that to truly clear the 1515 militia from the ground and retake the cities and villages, we still have to rely on the Ilyoks themselves.”

He paused, looking at Samir and Nassin: "You know the fighting capabilities of the government forces. The militia of the 'People's Movement' are good at fighting when things are going well, but they are not good at fighting tough battles or taking on fortified positions. The main force of 1515 will be damaged after the battle of the valley and the air raid, but it is far from being wiped out. The ground battle that follows will be very brutal and long."

At this point, he picked up his cup, took another gulp of water to moisten his vocal cords, and continued:
"I judge that the government forces and other militia groups may initially recapture some territory by virtue of their air superiority, but once 1515 stabilizes its position, or the US reduces its air strike intensity, the battle is likely to fall into a stalemate again, or even reverse. At that time, whoever can withstand 1515 on key battlefields, or even defeat them, will gain the greatest prestige and political capital."

"Shall we make our move then?"

Samir's eyes gradually brightened; he seemed to understand Song Heping's intentions.

“And we, the ‘Liberation Forces’…”

Song Heping emphasized, "We just used 300 men to hold off an attack by 1515 men, who numbered 3,000, and even killed more than 2,000 of them! This news will spread very soon! We will become legends! We will become the most capable and fearless team in everyone's eyes! But now we have suffered heavy casualties and need to rest, replenish our strength, and train."

"So what we need to do now is not to rush in as cannon fodder, but to hide and quietly strengthen ourselves. Recruit new soldiers, train them rigorously, and stockpile weapons and ammunition. Wait until the government forces and others have suffered heavy losses against 1515, until they are most desperate and in need of a truly capable and fresh force..."

A calculating smile played on Song Heping's lips: "...When that time comes, we'll step forward. We're not here to add to the glory, we're here to provide help in times of need. We want to become the key force in deciding the outcome of the battle. Only then, Samir, can you and your 'Liberation Forces' truly gain the status, voice, and resources you deserve on Iligor's home soil! Instead of rushing in as dispensable expendable resources, like we are now!"

Samir's breathing became heavy.

Nassin also took a deep breath, his gaze towards Song Heping filled with admiration.

This boss has a very long-term vision.

"I understand, boss."

Samir nodded heavily. "I know what to do. I will reassure the team and tell them that their current patience is for a greater victory in the future."

"Very good." Song Heping nodded in satisfaction. "Go and get busy. Tell the team that revenge will definitely be taken, and with interest! But not now."

Samir and Nassin saluted, turned and left the tent, their steps becoming firm and powerful.

Silence returned to the tent.

Song Heping sat back down in front of the computer.

He glanced at the tent entrance, and only after Samir's figure disappeared outside the curtain did he sigh softly. He then continued browsing the news, but his mind had already wandered to faraway places.

The lack of manpower and ammunition was merely an excuse to persuade Samir and Nassin.

The real reason is his deeper strategic planning.

He wanted more than just to help Samir establish a foothold in northwestern Iligo; he wanted to build this force into a key bargaining chip, one that could influence the regional situation and even be used to negotiate with the Americans.

The success of the valley blocking battle has brought the "Liberation Forces" and his name into the view of various forces.

Next, all he had to do was keep raising the stakes and, at the most crucial moment, put the chips on the table.

Before that, he needs a card.

A card that could catch him off guard and even teach those arrogant Americans a lesson.

This card can not only teach the Americans a lesson, but also give him and Samir more political leverage in the future.

His mind flashed back to the political blackouts and CIA persecution he had previously faced, and his eyes turned cold.

A bold and dangerous plan gradually took shape in his mind.

He picked up the satellite phone again and dialed Henry's number.

"Henry, it's me."

"Boss? Is something the matter?"

Henry answered the phone quickly.

He was surprised that Song Heping called back right after the call ended.

"Intelligence. A very special, very sensitive intelligence."

Song Heping's voice was low, but carried an undeniable determination: "I need you to use all your resources and connections, at all costs, to get me a list of all CIA covert operations personnel in northwestern Ilikogia, especially in the Mosul, Erbil, and Kirkuk areas, their contact points, safe houses, and local informants they have developed... the more detailed the better."

Henry on the other end of the phone visibly gasped and remained silent for several seconds.

"God... Song, what... what do you need this for? This is too dangerous! It's like stirring up a hornet's nest! No, it's like blowing up a hornet's nest! And this kind of sensitive intelligence is very difficult to obtain; some of it is top secret, practically impossible to get..."

"Therefore, we must spare no expense and maintain absolute secrecy. We should obtain as much as we can, even the name of a CIA informant."

Song Heping interrupted him, his tone unwavering, "Money is not a problem. I'll pay whatever they ask for. But I demand that the intelligence be accurate and truthful. You know my style."

"But...why?"

Henry's voice was filled with confusion and worry, "Shouldn't you be focusing on dealing with 1515 right now? Provoking the CIA... that's playing with fire!"

"Why? Haha."

Song Heping sneered, "Americans like to play chess, they like to use others as pawns. But I'm not a pawn. I have to return the favors they gave me. Besides, sometimes you can catch the big fish by stirring up trouble. Don't ask so many questions, just get on with it. Get back to me as soon as possible."

After saying that, he hung up the phone without waiting for Henry to object.

Inside the tent, he was alone, with only the news of a distant air raid shining from the screen.

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)