Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1103 Strategic Patience
On the way back to Persia from the Erbil border.

Under the moonlight, the jeep bumped along the desolate land in northwestern Iligo, its tires screeching as they rolled over the wreckage of the bombed-out road.

Samir's knuckles, gripping the steering wheel tightly, turned slightly white from the force.

The long silence in the car was almost suffocating. He could no longer suppress the turmoil in his heart and finally couldn't help but ask Song Heping in the passenger seat:

"Boss, why?"

His voice was filled with immense regret and profound bewilderment. "The conditions they offered are exactly what we've been dreaming of! Funding, heavy equipment, precise intelligence support...aren't these the resources we desperately need right now? If we could establish cooperation with the Kold, even just a preliminary understanding, the obstacles to our operations in northern Iligo would be greatly reduced, and it might even open up a completely new strategic situation!"

Song Heping did not answer immediately.

His gaze remained fixed on the seemingly endless darkness outside the window, his eyes as calm as a knife tempered with ice.

The contours of his face appeared particularly hard in the dim light of the dashboard.

A few minutes later, he slowly turned his head, his voice steady yet carrying an undeniable coldness:

"Samir, we are now walking a tightrope over an abyss."

His tone was solemn. "The bait offered by the Koldeers is indeed delicious, but you must see clearly that what's hanging beneath it is an iron hook capable of instantly crushing us to pieces."

He paused slightly, noticing that the confusion in Samir's eyes hadn't dissipated, and continued to explain further: "They're just dogs of the Americans. Think about it carefully, almost every bullet, every logistical supply, and every penny of pay for the Kold'd forces comes from Washington's supply and coordination. Their so-called 'independence' has always been very limited; they're always on a leash, and if the Americans pull it, they'll suffocate."

"Have you considered the chain reaction that would occur if the Americans discovered our cooperation with Abuyu's faction, even if it were top-secret contact?"

Song Heping's voice lowered even further and became colder.

Samir did not speak.

Song Heping continued, "Can you guarantee there's no mole within Kold's group in this kind of secret alliance? If we cooperate with them, it means our whereabouts will be exposed. The CIA and JSOC (Joint Special Operations Command) will not hesitate to eliminate us, even if it means taking Abuyu with them. Are you sure this kind of alliance is necessary?"

He leaned forward, his gaze fixed intently on Samir: "The Americans will never allow their carefully cultivated proxies to collude in any way with their perceived regional enemies."

"Therefore, I judge that Abuyu's risky visit tonight is more likely a desperate attempt by him personally, or by his faction. Did you notice the urgency in his tone? That's not the posture of someone with confidence."

Song Heping continued, "This could even be a trap—either to test our stance and true intentions, or to divert the attention of the US or 1515. But whatever the motive, it absolutely does not represent Washington's strategic will."

"To rashly engage in military cooperation with the US without at least its tacit approval would be tantamount to drinking poison to quench thirst."

Song Heping's tone was resolute: "What we truly need is not a seemingly sturdy lifeline that is actually firmly held by someone else on the other end. What we need is our own solid foothold, tangible bargaining chips that can be presented on the table and used in negotiations."

Samir listened quietly, remaining silent.

He excels at on-the-spot command and small-scale raids, but whenever Song Heping elevates the topic to a strategic level, he still feels a dizzying sense of unease.

He is learning, and this learning process is often accompanied by a disruption of his understanding.

Moreover, he was well aware that his eagerness to restore national autonomy could sometimes lead to misjudgments.

Seeing that he didn't speak, Song Heping leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

The jeep continued to bump along, its engine sound echoing monotonously in the silent night.

But his inner world was far from as calm as it appeared.

The smuggling network that looms large in the White Elephant region, the increasingly bloody tug-of-war in northern Iriego, the barely concealed anxiety of the Kold'd people, and the global strategy that the United States constantly looms over the region.
Countless pieces of information, clues, and possibilities collided fiercely in his mind, gradually weaving together into a huge and complex dynamic map.

He needs to calmly analyze all of this, accurately determine the core interests and bottom lines of each party, and find the key point where he can best utilize his limited resources while minimizing devastating risks.

He knew that surviving in this dark forest built by oil, blood, and geopolitical ambition was already a difficult task.

To win, you need to be calmer, more patient, and more cunning than anyone else.

Four o'clock in the morning.

By the time the jeep finally entered the camp hidden behind the rugged rocks, the sky was already beginning to lighten.

The roar of the engine startled a few gerbils that were just getting up at dawn, but then everything fell silent again. Only the vigilant gazes and slight nods of the sentries on the watchtower proved that the guard here had never been relaxed.

Song Heping did not rest, and did not even take off his combat uniform, which was covered in dust and sweat.

He walked straight to the largest cave command post in the center of the camp, which consisted of reinforced bunkers and camouflage netting.

"Old squad leader, just got back?"

Jiang Feng pushed open the door and entered, and Nassin appeared behind him.

Song Heping poured himself some water while glancing at the two of them.

"Still not resting so late?"

Song Heping asked the question even though he knew the answer.

It's likely that both of them want to know the outcome of tonight's negotiations.

"I just came out to check the sentry post and happened to see you coming back..."

Jiang Feng's excuse was terrible.

"Can't you come up with a better excuse?"

Song Heping smiled and said, "I've finished talking with Abuyu."

He cut to the chase, stating frankly, "They want to cooperate, and the terms are very attractive; they can share funds, equipment, intelligence, and so on."

A few words immediately enlivened the somewhat dull atmosphere in the command post, and a look of longing flashed in Jiang Feng's eyes.

Nassin couldn't help but say, "That's great! We've been needing these! The Kold's intelligence and equipment have all come from the Americans over the years, and we have to admit they're all good stuff." "But I refused."

Song Heping's next words were like ice water, instantly extinguishing the newly ignited flame.

The command post was silent, with only the low hum of the generator breaking the silence.

Nassin and Jiang Feng both stared at Song Heping, their eyes filled with confusion.

Song Heping's gaze slowly swept over everyone, and he reiterated Samir's questions from last night and his own thoughts in more concise and to-the-point language.

He emphasized the invisible yet incredibly strong umbilical cord between the Kolds and the United States, highlighted the potentially fatal reactions from the CIA and JSOC, and analyzed the possible desperation or deception behind Abuyu's actions.

"Remember, we are not bandits; we are playing a game of chess."

Song Heping's fingers tapped heavily on the rough wooden tabletop, where an invisible strategic map seemed to be unfolded.

"On one side of the chessboard are these mad dogs, 1515; on the other side is the behemoth that is the Americans; and in between are the Kurds, government troops, various tribal forces, and people like us trying to find opportunities. One wrong move, and the whole game is lost."

“What we need most right now is not a seemingly delicious poisoned bait, but ‘strategic patience,’” he emphasized again. “Strengthen ourselves and train more soldiers.”

He looked at Jiang Feng and Nassin, "We must strengthen our capabilities and make our intelligence network even denser. Tell the brothers to keep their eyes peeled: any American satellites, drones, electronic surveillance on the ground, and any unfamiliar faces trying to approach the camp—we must detect, report, and deal with them immediately."

"Survive, grow stronger. When we have enough chips to force the other players to take us seriously, or when the board itself undergoes a dramatic change, that's when we'll make our move."

Song Heping's voice was firm and resolute: "Now, everyone, execute the order. Raise the alert level to the highest level."

There was no argument.

There was no more debate.

Jiang Feng and Nassin are not Samir.

Those who can enter this inner circle have all gone through enough life-or-death tests and know that their boss's judgment is rarely wrong.

Jiang Feng and his companion nodded silently and left the command post one after the other.

Four days later, the encrypted satellite phone rang again.

This time, the signal source was identified as the distant Goa, the land of the White Elephant.

Song Heping glanced at the number and quickly pressed the answer button. Zayed's voice, full of curry flavor and a mixture of enthusiasm and calculation, came through the receiver, with the faint sound of waves and music in the background.

"My dear friend Song, I hope the sandstorms north of Iligo haven't blinded your eyes."

Zayed exchanged pleasantries as usual, but his tone quickly turned serious. "Our business has run into a little trouble. That old dog Narendra, he's gone completely mad this time, like he'd had his tail stepped on."

He began to pour out his grievances, describing how the conflict with the Narendra family had escalated to a fever pitch, including a dockside gunfight, a warehouse explosion, and a street assassination.
Both sides were in a frenzy. Narendra used all his resources, relentlessly pursuing every smuggling route like a mad dog, reporting any discovered routes to the relevant authorities or even the relevant countries.

"The situation is too tense right now, and the risks and costs are frighteningly high."

Zayed sighed, his voice filled with genuine helplessness. "I know perfectly well that your Persian goods are of top quality. But at this critical juncture, they're too hot to handle. Narendra's people have even started inquiring about your origins, wanting to know who gave me such confidence. In the short term, I'm afraid I'll find it difficult to find a safe way to turn them into the cash or equipment you need."

Song Heping listened quietly, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table.

He could taste the flavor.

Zayed's words were indeed a complaint, and the difficulties were real, but his core purpose was by no means merely to shirk responsibility.

He was complaining, but he was also implying that the source of the trouble was Narendra.

With Narendra resolved, the channels will naturally be open.

He was using Song Heping as a tool to eliminate his biggest threat.

It seems this guy has finally seen the light since last time, realizing his own fighting strength and what kind of people he has the most of all.

He is making demands.

“Zayed.”

Song Heping interrupted his rambling, his voice calm yet carrying a knowing understanding, "It seems Mr. Narendra is keeping you up at night. You want me to help you resolve this problem, using it as a condition for our deal, right?"

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by Zayed's slightly embarrassed yet relieved laugh: "Dealing with smart people is so refreshing, Mr. Song. I know your 'Musician' Defense Company is incredibly capable. For you, handling this kind of local 'minor trouble' is probably easier than me navigating ten Coast Guard speedboats at sea."

"information."

Song Heping stated succinctly, "I need all his information, all his data, habits, frequented locations, bodyguard arrangements—send it to our usual place in as much detail as possible. I'll take this job."

There was no haggling, no hesitation.

Zayed was momentarily stunned by his quick agreement, then immediately agreed, his tone filled with surprise and assurance: "That's great! Boss Song, as long as you help me solve this problem, your goods will always be given top priority by me. We can discuss the commission rate further! I'll prepare the documents right away!"

"Let's leave the commission aside, but I must remind you, Mr. Zayed, once I've eliminated your rivals," Song Heping coughed, cleared his throat, and said in an incredibly clear tone, "you should know what the consequences will be if you fail to complete the mission according to our agreement."

On the other end of the phone, Zayed felt a chill run down his spine, and his hair stood on end.

"I...of course I know..."

He swallowed hard and said, "Don't worry, I have a very good reputation..."

"OK." Song Heping smiled and said, "Then we'll wait for your information and data. Leave the matter to me. Stay home and wait for news. Don't wander around. Don't let someone else take you out before I take them out."

Communication ends.

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)