Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1109 The situation worsens

Two days later, in a secret camp cave on the Persian Plateau.

The air was filled with the smell of old carpet, dust, and a faint, almost imperceptible gun oil.

The hunter, looking travel-worn, pushed open the door and carelessly tossed his heavy tactical backpack into a corner with a dull thud.

"Boss!"

After searching around, his gaze landed on Song Heping, who was sitting at the table, deep in thought, staring at his laptop screen.

"I'm back"

The hunter's voice was slightly hoarse. He walked to the small refrigerator, took out a bottle of ice water, unscrewed the cap, and tilted his head back to gulp down more than half of the bottle.

Song Heping looked up: "You're back? Did everything go smoothly? Where are the violinist and drummer?"

"Target cleared, convoy in disarray, three shots, target vehicle confirmed to be a fireball, Narendra is dead."

The hunter reported succinctly, as if he were talking about a trivial matter.

He wiped the water from his mouth: "'The violinist' and 'drummer' were evacuated separately as planned, and should now be on different routes back to the Middle East."

Song Heping nodded; he never doubted the hunter's abilities.

The power of the Anzio monster is enough to terrify anyone who thinks they're hiding in an iron fortress.

"Could you get someone to bring some food, boss?" The hunter patted his belly, his face filled with hunger. "I haven't had anything decent to eat for almost a week over at White Elephant's."

"We've given you plenty of funding, why are you still reluctant to eat?" Song Heping teased.

The hunter shook his head and said, "I dare not eat anything indiscriminately. Eating the wrong things over there will land you in the hospital. I can only eat KFC."

Song Heping couldn't help but burst into laughter.

The hunter was as cautious as he was.

I experienced the same thing when I was with White Elephant.

He got up and went to the cave entrance, called over a guard, and asked him to go to the kitchen and get some food.

Then he went back into the cave and pointed to the chair opposite him: "Sit down."

The hunter sat down, relaxed, stretched, and asked, "How's things at the company lately? I was away for a week; have anything unusual happened in Africa?"

"No problem."

Song Heping pointed to the computer: "Ferrari just sent me a report last night. Our company is currently developing very well, and the business is stable. Recently, international mineral prices have risen by 15%, and the company expects very considerable profits. The small warlord in the Democratic Republic of Congo caused trouble again on the border, but our people, in cooperation with the government forces, repelled him."

"Well done!" the hunter commented.

"That's good. The problem lies elsewhere."

Song Heping switched screens, brought up a map of North Africa, and pointed to the location of Lebia.

"Haftar's offensive has slowed down, and he and some armed groups supported by Western countries have formed a standoff around Sirte. But he doesn't want to fight now and wants to use political means to win over some tribal armed groups in Misrata, Zintan and the western mountains to negotiate and form a coalition government."

"Sounds like it's time to divide the cake," the hunter scoffed. "Would those tribal militias really listen to you? They have guns, men, and territory; who would willingly give up the meat that's already in their mouths?"

"So the talks were very difficult."

Song Heping sneered, "Some tribes, especially those in the southern Fezan region, are taking advantage of their oil fields, border smuggling routes, and Western support to act tough, and the fighting has not stopped at all. Haftar can't do anything about them for the time being; his main force is focused on Tripoli."

"Our men weren't involved, were they?" the hunter asked with concern. The murky waters of Lebia were unfathomable.

“No,” Song Heping answered firmly. “I ordered long ago to strictly guard the oil fields we’ve already secured, which we earned with our lives. As for the others, let them fight it out themselves. There is no justice in Lebia, only interests. Whoever gives us benefits, we will cooperate with them temporarily, but we will never easily step in to fight for them. That’s a civil war among the Lebians themselves, and it’s their own blood that’s being shed.”

The hunter nodded in deep agreement.

Mercenaries are weapons, but they cannot become weapons wielded at will by others, especially for vague righteousness or promises destined to be betrayed.

Just then, a unique buzzing sound came from an encrypted satellite phone on Song Heping's desk.

Song Heping glanced at the caller ID, gestured for the hunter to be quiet, and pressed the answer button.

"Mr. Zayed."

Song Heping's voice was as calm as well water.

Zayed's voice, barely contained with excitement, came through the phone, even trembling with emotion: "Song! My friend! My brother! It worked! It was perfect! I have confirmed that that damned fat pig Narendra and his luxury convoy were reduced to a pile of burning scrap metal on the Goa viaduct! Well done! Unparalleled!"

"It's good that the message has been confirmed."

Song Heping's tone remained calm, as if he had only heard the weather forecast say that it would rain today.

"Confirmed! 100% confirmed!"

Zayed practically roared, "This place is in complete chaos! His good-for-nothing sons and henchmen are fighting tooth and nail over who will take over! Hahahaha! Without that old fox keeping things in check, these good-for-nothings are no match for me! The future leader of the White Elephant Kingdom's underground oil smuggling network—who else but me, Zayed, can sit in that position?!"

“Congratulations,” Song Heping said calmly. “Then, Mr. Zayed, don’t forget your promise.”

"Of course! Of course!" Zayed quickly assured him, his tone ingratiating. "One hundred million Persian crude oil! I'm already arranging the best channels and the most reliable ships! Give me a month, no, three weeks! I'll have everything arranged within three weeks, and it will be safely transported out of the Persian Gulf! I, Zayed, guarantee it with my reputation!"

"Very good. Keep in touch." Song Heping didn't say anything more and ended the call directly.

After hanging up the phone, the hunter raised an eyebrow: "He sounds like he's going crazy with excitement."

"It's just a celebration of profit," Song Heping sneered. "He takes the top spot, and we get the much-needed crude oil sales; it's a win-win situation. As for how much blood is shed in the underworld of White Elephant Country, what does that have to do with us?"

Just as the hunter was about to say something, Song Heping's other phone rang again.

This time it's Afanti.

Song Heping picked up his phone again and pressed the call button. The voice of Afanti, always tinged with a hint of patriotism and concern for the people, came through the receiver.

Song Heping always felt that Afanti was carrying a lot on his shoulders.

So every time we met, the other person had no expression on their face, but their eyes revealed a kind of hardened melancholy.

"Song, there's something I feel I must share with you immediately."

"Speak," Song Heping said succinctly.

“The news is about the Kolds,” Afanti said, his pace quickening. “Our people have cross-verified it through several channels, and the Abuyu faction, which you contacted before, has been having a tough time lately. The Kolds themselves are disappointed that he failed to secure the ‘strong external support’ he hoped for…”

Afanti paused subtly here.

Song Heping understood; he was implying that the "external support" referred to Song Heping himself.

Previously, Abuyu had personally come to negotiate a cooperation, but Song Heping did not agree.

"The result is that his influence within the Kold armed forces' internal committee has significantly declined. More troublesome is that the Americans seem to have caught wind of something. CIA agents at Erbil and the U.S. military advisory group have intensified their so-called 'supervision' of some of Kold's frontline units, which is actually strengthening control and surveillance. They have begun to doubt Abuyu's loyalty. If Abuyu previously had limited room for independent operation, it has now been almost completely compressed."

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

The Persians had their own intelligence network, infiltrating various parts of the Middle East, and they certainly had their own informants within the Kold's ranks.

However, Afanti shared these things with himself...

It's probably more than just sharing intelligence.

Afanti continued, "Moreover, there are indications that they have adjusted the orbit of a reconnaissance satellite, focusing on the northwestern region, especially the border area between us and Iligo, presumably targeting you."

"Mr. Song, you must be careful recently. Avoid prolonged exposure in open areas unless absolutely necessary, to prevent them from capturing clear images of you on their satellites and causing unnecessary trouble."

Afanti offered this reminder, his tone sincere.

"Understood. Anything else?"

Song Heping asked, his face expressionless.

"There's one more thing, which might... also be an opportunity."

Afanti's tone became somewhat hesitant and tentative.

Song Heping thought to himself, "We're probably getting down to business. All that before was just smoke and mirrors."

"Our informant within 1515 risked his life to deliver a message—the 1515 organization seems to have also noticed the instability within the Kold'd people and the chaos caused by the recent reorganization of the US military advisory group. They are secretly mobilizing troops, collecting vehicles and suicide vests, and may launch a large-scale raid on the Kold'd-controlled oil fields in the near future, taking advantage of a sandstorm."

He paused, then asked cautiously, "Do you think... we should do something? Perhaps, give the Kolds a heads-up beforehand? Or, at a crucial moment... lend them a hand? This might greatly improve our relationship with the Kold's forces, or even..."

Song Heping immediately understood Afanti's little scheme.

This high-ranking Persian official never gave up on the idea of ​​winning over the Khord forces to expand Persia's influence in Irigo, hoping to use Song Heping's surprise force to facilitate this.

“Brother,” Song Heping interrupted him, his voice calm and decisive, “I think doing this is pointless and might even backfire.”

"Why?" Afanti seemed puzzled. "This is a great opportunity to offer help in times of need..."

"I have repeatedly emphasized that the Kolds were first and foremost the dogs of the Americans."

Song Heping pointed out incisively: "If we intervene now and help them repel 1515, what will the Americans think? Will they be grateful to us? Or will they think we have ulterior motives and are taking the opportunity to expand our influence in the Kolde region? The result is very likely that under pressure from the United States, the Kolde people will not only not dare to be grateful, but may even turn their guns on us to show their loyalty to their masters."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, and Afanti clearly felt that Song Heping's words made sense.

"Are we just going to sit idly by and watch 1515 grow stronger? What if those oil fields fall into their hands..."

Afanti was still somewhat unwilling.

"Don't worry! There are people who are more anxious than us! The 1515 militia is a minor ailment, and the Americans won't tolerate them for long. The Kold'd are a tool for America's core interests."

Song Heping analyzed, "Just watch, if 1515 really launches an attack and succeeds, the Americans will be the most anxious. Once the Kolds are defeated, they will lose everything."

At this point, a mysterious glint flashed in his eyes: "I think that instead of us trying to win them over now, we should wait until the Americans can't take it anymore and come to us for cooperation. After all, in this area, when it comes to ground intelligence and special operations capabilities, who knows 1515 better than us? Who has the ability to find their hiding place better than us?"

Afanti gasped on the other end of the phone: "Americans... are actively seeking cooperation with us? Song, is this... even possible? Don't forget, you and your team... are on the CIA and JSOC blacklists. There's a blood feud between you."

Afanti's concerns were not unfounded.

The number of CIA agents and U.S. special forces who died at the hands of Song Heping and his men is too many to count on two hands.

Such deep-seated hatred cannot be easily resolved.
"Americans are realists; they're not stupid."

Song Heping paused for a moment, then slowly said, "There are no permanent friends, nor permanent enemies, only permanent interests. In this quagmire of Iligor, in order to protect their strategic interests, the Americans sometimes have to deal with people they don't like. I'm not sure they'll definitely come, but..."

He paused, then said decisively, "It's worth the gamble. Anyway, we won't lose anything by not helping the Kolds. Helping them might just cause us trouble. Let's hold our positions and see how things develop."

“…Alright, Song, I respect your judgment.”

Afanti sounded somewhat disappointed, but he also knew that Song Heping's decisions were usually in the best interests of the people. "I will continue to closely monitor the developments of all parties and share any new developments with you at any time."

"Thanks for your hard work."

After ending the call with Afanti, a brief silence fell over the safe house.

The hunter looked at Song Heping and slowly said, "Boss, do you really think the Americans would lower themselves to come to us?"

Song Heping's gaze drifted out the window, seemingly able to pierce through the curtains and see the turbulent land beyond: "Hunter, we all know that war on the land of Ilig is never a simple military matter, but rather the dirtiest politics and business. When the cost becomes unbearable, face is the least valuable thing. Just wait and see, the storm is coming."

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)