Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1083 Cleansing Operation
The Persian Plateau, Song Heping's temporary command post.

The satellite communication indicator light flashed steadily green, like an indifferent eye.

Song Heping's fingers flew across the keyboard as he typed the final command, sending the encrypted and compressed list file through several virtual node nodes to a deep-web anonymous cloud storage point controlled by Henry.

The whole process took less than three minutes, but it seemed to drain the little energy he had left after a sleepless night.

He leaned back against the cold, rough rock wall, closed his eyes, and let the crisp, cold air of the plateau stimulate his overused nerves, trying to dispel the moral chill in his heart that he couldn't completely ignore.

He knew that the moment he pressed the "send" button, he was essentially turning on the valve of a massive storm, unleashing immeasurable bloodshed and death.

Countless people will lose their lives as a result, including innocent informants who may be caught up in the chaos.

This is the cruel law of war: there is no place for mercy, only cold, bone-chilling calculations of interests and a life-or-death struggle for survival.

When the time came, he abandoned any hesitation and focused all his attention on the next steps.

A few minutes later, Henry called back via his encrypted satellite phone.

"Boss, I received it. The contents are... amazing."

Henry's voice came through the encrypted channel, with a slightly dry tone.

He had clearly skimmed through some of the content.

“I immediately spread the word through those marked ‘ghost channels.’ Those lunatics from 1515 often recruit people and issue so-called doctrinal orders on those extreme forums. Their intelligence pickpockets must be watching those places like vultures.”

"We need to be fast, so that they can't ignore us or question us."

Song Heping took a deep breath and gritted his teeth, saying, "We must get the 1515 armed force to act before the CIA can react."

"Understood. I will make it spread as quickly as possible through the corners of their dark web."

Henry paused, then couldn't help asking again, with professional caution: "Boss, what's the reliability assessment of this list? I mean, what if there are traps or something in it, since it was obtained through torture..."

"Intelligence obtained through torture will inevitably contain impurities and errors, but the core information is likely to be true."

Song Heping interrupted him, his tone resolute, "The things John Keller vomited under his physical and mental limits are too costly to systematically forge. The CIA has no need to provide such detailed and authentic high-value network information for a decoy team carrying out a one-off test mission. Even if there are some errors or outdated information, that's a problem for 1515 and the CIA to deal with. Execute it."

"Yes!"

The phone hangs up.

Silence returned to the cave, with only the endless howling of the plateau wind.

Song Heping opened his eyes, his gaze falling once again on the screenshot of the list displayed on the tablet.

Each name, code, and address was like an inscription carved on a tombstone. He knew that he had personally pushed open the gates of hell.

A reinforced command post deep underground in northwestern Iligo.

Baghdadi, the self-proclaimed "Caliph," sat cross-legged on a thick, expensive Persian carpet, with a scripture and a symbolic sword beside him.

A young, tech-savvy subordinate was prostrate on the ground, reporting excitedly and fearfully, holding a tablet computer high in his hand.

“Your Holiness, God-blessed Caliph, we have found this in the deepest encrypted subforum of the ‘Lion of Jihad’ forum! It’s like a revelation!”

The subordinate's voice trembled with excitement, "The publisher is an untraceable ghost IP, but the content presented inside... is incredibly detailed, hitting the nail on the head!" Baghdadi wore his signature black robe and a black turban, his thick beard obscuring part of his expression.

He slowly took the tablet, his eyes, hidden beneath his thick eyebrows, carrying their usual ruthlessness and doubt, as he began to carefully scan the screen.

At first, he was somewhat dismissive, even contemptuous—every day, countless rumors, framing, and false information, some true and some false, swarmed online like flies.

But soon, his lazy, sweeping gaze froze, his body leaned forward slightly, and his brows furrowed into a deep frown.

The list not only clearly lists names and code names, but also extremely detailed addresses, disguised occupations, and commonly used contact methods, including frequency and time of day, and even physical characteristics and vehicle models frequently driven by some key figures!

Its territory covers strategically important northwestern cities such as Mosul, Tal Afar, and Sinjar, as well as many key villages and transportation hubs under its control.

When he saw the location of a hidden agent codenamed "History Teacher," whose safe house was less than five kilometers away from his command post, a chill ran down his spine and up to the back of his head, and a fine layer of cold sweat broke out on his back!

Another informant, codenamed "Oil Seller," frequently appeared at the weekly market near one of his backup hideouts!

There's another one codenamed "Desert Fox," who is described as frequently driving a white Toyota Hilux pickup truck of a specific year between checkpoints, and his bodyguards just yesterday routinely let such a vehicle through!

"This is...this is a vicious web woven by the CIA! It's coiled right beside our bed!"

Baghdadi's voice became hoarse and low due to extreme anger and lingering fear.

He felt as if he were walking naked, unknowingly, surrounded by a group of hidden venomous snakes, with every pair of cold eyes watching him from the shadows!

"The source of this information?! How can its authenticity be verified?!"

He suddenly looked up, his gaze like a poisoned scimitar piercing his subordinates, filled with the paranoia unique to the leader of a suspicious organization.

"No... no way to confirm the ultimate source, Your Majesty the Caliph."

The subordinate was so frightened that he almost buried his head in the carpet.

"But... but some of the information on the list matches up with our security department's previous scattered but unverified suspicions... For example, this 'oil seller,' we did feel that his whereabouts and reports were somewhat unusual, but we lacked evidence..."

"Verify! Immediately!"

Baghdadi slammed the tablet computer down on the low table and roared angrily, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"Immediately! Right now! Dispatch our elite teams to check each item on this list, one by one! Prioritize the targets closest to our core area!"

"Yes!"

The subordinates responded immediately.

Bakdadi paused, a cruelty and ruthlessness characteristic of extremist groups flashing in his eyes: "Once the identity is confirmed, or there is strong suspicion, arrest immediately without seeking instructions! If there is any form of resistance, authorize on-the-spot execution! Eliminate all hidden dangers! For the glory of Allah, we must uproot these demons hidden in our hearts and cleanse our land with their blood!"

This blood-soaked order, like the deadliest plague virus, spread rapidly through encrypted radio, messengers, and word of mouth to towns, villages, and checkpoints in northwestern Ilig under the control of the 1515 Black Flag.

The entire security apparatus of 1515 was completely activated by this sudden "divine gift" list, plunging into a near-frenzied purge storm.

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)