Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1131 Victory?
His entire body froze instantly, like a sculpture suddenly enchanted.

The binoculars slipped from his hand when he suddenly lost his grip, fell with a "thud" onto the concrete railing at the edge of the rooftop, bounced once, and then plummeted to the ground, eventually shattering into pieces.

A tiny yet incredibly deep bullet hole quietly appeared in the center of his forehead, and a trickle of crimson blood slowly seeped from the edge of the hole.

On the back of his head, however, was a completely different and terrifying sight—the bullet's immense kinetic energy and tumbling effect created a horrifying cavity the size of a bowl, from which a mixture of red and white paste and bone fragments sprayed out, splattering his confidant, who was still incessantly trying to persuade him, all over his head and face!
Abu Omar's eyes, bloodshot from anger and ambition, were now wide open, his pupils dilated, yet still seemed to retain the extreme shock, resentment, and a trace of disbelief and bewilderment of the last moment.

His body swayed stiffly, then fell straight back like a broken wooden stake, crashing heavily onto the cold, dirty cement floor with a dull thud.

"Leader!! Leader!"

"Sniper! There's a sniper!"

On the rooftop, the deathly silence lasted for half a second before being shattered by indescribable terror, chaos, and screams.

Everyone was terrified by this sudden and precise sniper kill!

……

One kilometer away, on the top of a dilapidated building.

Through the scope, Song Heping clearly saw the entire process of the target falling backward after being hit.

Although it couldn't be confirmed as a kill with 100% certainty, the way he fell and the immediate uproar and panic among those around him made it crystal clear that he had hit the target!
There is a very high chance of being beheaded!

"go!"

Without any hesitation, he immediately let out a low growl, put away his gun, and didn't even have time to carefully examine the results of the battle.

If we don't leave now, we might be met with a barrage of artillery fire.

On the battlefield, snipers are always the most hated targets of the opposing side, the ones they most want to tear to shreds.

He and the observer slid down the stairs at top speed, almost in the fraction of a second after their feet left the rooftop platform—

shhhhh--

boom!
Boom! ! !

A barrage of high-explosive rounds from heavy machine guns and mortar shells, seemingly from nowhere, accurately and violently covered the sniper positions they had just been in.

Debris and dust shot into the sky!

If it had been a second later, they would have been blown to pieces by now!
"How was it? Did you hit it?!"

When the cook saw Song Heping return, he asked anxiously in a low voice, his eyes full of anticipation.

"Target down, highly suspected hit on a high-ranking enemy commander."

Song Heping spoke concisely and calmly.

He shoved the heavy SVD back to the observer: "Keep it safe! We might need it!"

Although he couldn't confirm it definitively, Song Heping's intuition told him that he had succeeded!

Meanwhile, news that Abu Omar, the supreme commander of the "Victory Front," had been accurately beheaded by an enemy sniper spread like wildfire across the chaotic battlefield at an alarming speed through radio, shouts, and word-of-mouth among routed soldiers.

Modern battlefield communication methods enable the transmission of such critical information to sometimes be faster than imagined.

In particular, Omar's close confidants and high-ranking leaders, who were already in a state of panic due to the news of Ottiba's attack, were now leaderless and terrified.

With the southern logistics base destroyed and the leader assassinated, continuing the fight could easily lead to a desperate situation where they are attacked from both sides.

retreat!

We must retreat immediately!

In a panic, the different leaders began to issue conflicting orders, some demanding that the attack continue, while others ordered their men to retreat.

The entire offensive system instantly descended into chaos and command failure.

The suffocating pressure at Entrance No. 3 vanished as quickly as the tide receded.

Song Heping, the cook who had just caught his breath, and the last two or three wounded and barely able to stand guard waited for a long time, but still no new wave of attack came.

"What happened? They seem to have disappeared?"

The cook curiously crouched behind a firing port, constantly aiming at the attacking position opposite.

At first, a few shadowy figures could be seen appearing and disappearing there.

Now we can't see anything at all.

The sun rises from the east, and its rays fall upon Haibaibu.

My vision began to clear.

Song Heping also lay down in front of the firing port and observed for a while. In the end, he came to the same conclusion as the cook—the enemy seemed to have disappeared!

"Boss! Mr. Song!"

The observer reappeared before the group.

This time, unlike before when he was crouching down and acting cautiously, he ran all the way to the group after leaving the building, without any restraint or caution.

"They ran away!"

"what?!"

The cook's eyes widened in surprise.

"Are you sure!?" You managed to hold them off?

"Confirmed!" the observer shouted excitedly. "I see their vehicles and people being evacuated from the town on a large scale!"

"go!"

Song Heping pulled the cook.

"Let's go back to the command post and use the radio to contact the other units and see how things are going on their end."

The command radio station at Gap No. 3 was destroyed, and the communications soldier was long gone.

The two men gave the observer a brief instruction, telling him to continue observing, and then ran all the way back to the command post.

Only the last three communications soldiers remained at their posts inside the command post.

Previously, anyone here who could move and breathe was moved out to fill in the lines.

At this stage of the battle, not only the staff in the command post, but even the cooks had to go to the front lines.

Upon seeing Song Heping and the others return, one of the communications soldiers took off his headset, stood up, and shouted, "Colonel Yevgeny, Mr. Song! I've received news that other units in the city are reporting that the enemy has retreated!"

"Are you sure?" Song Heping still couldn't believe it.

"Absolutely certain! General Jamal is also on his way back to command post; he wants to confirm this as well!"

"It's Abu Omar."

The cook suddenly burst into laughter.

"Hahahaha! Song! You might have actually killed the supreme commander of the 'Victory Front' just now when you were holding that gun!"

After hearing this news, Song Heping already knew what was going on.

He couldn't help but smile.

Then he plopped down in a chair, looked up at the cook, and said, "Can you go to the kitchen and make me a proper pot of borscht now? I'm starving! It's what I deserve."

"no problem!"

The cook's fatigue has also disappeared.

There's no better elixir than victory.

The lifting of the siege of Haibaib meant that the southern front was temporarily stabilized.

If Song Heping really did snipe Abu Omar, it means the "Victory Front" will be in a state of shock for a while.

Just half an hour ago.

The cook thought he was probably going to die here.

Unexpectedly, half an hour later, they won by a large margin...

Life is truly a fucking magical thing!

A dozen minutes later, the tense atmosphere in Haibab's command post finally began to ease.

The communications soldier, still wearing his headset, flew across the radio buttons, trying to establish clearer and more stable communication with the remaining defensive nodes in the city and the higher-level command headquarters behind them, eager to confirm the scope, scale, and true intentions of the enemy's retreat.

The cook couldn't wait to rush to the makeshift field kitchen area in the corner of the command post.

He muttered to himself as he rummaged through drawers and cupboards: "Beetroot...canned beef...tomato sauce...potatoes...onions...damn, and preferably some sour cream...Song! Just wait, I'll make you a pot of authentic borscht that will smell like it's going to travel miles and make you swallow your tongue! You absolutely deserve it!"

Song Heping smiled wearily. The extreme mental and physical exhaustion made him want to collapse and sleep right now.

But now is clearly not the time to sleep. The satellite phone was shattered in the final hand-to-hand combat, and we must contact the outside world immediately, especially Jiang Feng!
After all, the actions in De Hook's direction are crucial to the overall course of the battle!
He quickly rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a spare satellite phone. He skillfully turned it on, and the screen lit up, with green signal bars flickering and searching on the screen.

One, two... The signal finally stabilized.

He took a deep breath, suppressed his slightly trembling fingers, and pressed the encrypted satellite number that was already etched in his mind.

The receiver emitted a long and monotonous waiting tone.

"Beep...beep..."

Each sound seemed to strike his heart, stretching time infinitely. Song Heping's heart leaped into his throat.
The crisis in Baib seems to have been resolved, but if the Dehok operation fails, the east will still face a strong military threat.

While he was still pondering, the call suddenly connected.

"Hello? Who is it?"

Jiang Feng's familiar and steady voice came from the other side, but the background sounds seemed to be mixed with some distant, muffled explosions, as well as hurried footsteps and indistinct commands. It was clear that they had just experienced or were still engaged in fierce fighting.

This number is brand new; no wonder Jiang Feng didn't know it was him.

"It's me, Song Heping."

Song Heping's voice became extremely hoarse due to extreme fatigue, thirst, and shouting, making it almost unrecognizable.

There was a noticeable pause on the other end of the phone, then Jiang Feng's voice suddenly rose, filled with unbelievable surprise and relief: "Old Squad Leader?! It's you?! You're alright?! Damn it! Your satellite phone kept saying it was out of service, completely out of contact! Samir and the others were going crazy..."

His words were hurried with excitement, which showed how much psychological pressure and worry they had endured from the long period of being out of contact.

"I'm fine. It's just that my satellite phone was completely destroyed by a stray bullet during the final battle. I just found a spare one at the command post."

A surge of warmth welled up in Song Heping's heart. He gave a brief explanation, then eagerly cut to the heart of the matter: "How's it going on your end? Was Operation Hook successful?"

"Success! We've just completely wiped out the last stubborn stronghold!"

Jiang Feng's tone was full of excitement.

"Damn it, those '1515' bastards have stockpiled more ammunition, fuel, and medical supplies here than anyone could imagine! Enough for them to launch several large-scale attacks! Now it's all ours! Samir's men are taking stock of the final spoils. The heavy equipment and remaining supplies they can't take will all be blown up in ten minutes! One blast, and we'll give them a big one!"

"Great job... Well done, thank you for your hard work!"

Song Heping said sincerely, his voice sounding even more tired as he relaxed.

"And you? How is Haibaib? Communication was completely cut off before. The last news we received was that you were under heavy artillery fire and your defenses were on the verge of collapse..."

Jiang Feng's tone became serious and concerned again, and he quickly pressed for more information.

"We held on."

Song Heping's voice was calm, yet it carried immense weight; behind those three short words lay countless sacrifices and unimaginable tragedy.

"The enemy just retreated. We repelled their last and most frantic attack... We might... we might have taken out Abu Omar. Have Henry check with him to see if that guy is really dead."

"What?! Omar?! The frontline commander of the 'Victory Front'? Are you sure?!"

Jiang Feng's voice was filled with immense shock.

Killing Omar is far more significant than merely winning a hard-fought defensive battle!

This is enough to completely change the strategic situation and morale of both sides in the entire region!
"Highly suspected."

Song Heping's tone remained calm, but when he mentioned this matter, a hint of sharpness crept in.

“I was about 1024 meters away when I hit him with an SVD. Then their attack command completely fell apart and they quickly began a full retreat.”

"1024 meters?! SVD?! Sergeant, you're fucking awesome..."

Jiang Feng screamed.

"Great news! This is fantastic news! I'll inform Samir immediately! Once we've cleared the battlefield here, we'll move closer to you or establish a stable communication line as soon as possible!"

“Okay! Keep in touch!” Song Heping emphasized.

After ending the call, Song Heping gripped the satellite phone tightly in his hand, pondering how to plan the next step.

The pressure from the south and east seems to have been relieved.

So, in the end, only the HTS forces in the north remain...

Suddenly, he smelled a fragrance.

Looking up, I saw the cook carrying a large bowl of steaming, fragrant borscht out of the kitchen.

"What about Jiang Feng?"

The cook placed the soup bowl on a reasonably intact table and stirred the thick soup with a spoon.

"Yes, we've taken down Dai Hooke, destroyed the supply warehouse, and are organizing the demolition."

Song Heping spoke succinctly, then added.

“I told him about Omar and asked Henry to verify it.”

The cook's eyes lit up, and he slapped his thigh hard: "I knew it! Hahaha! Now, those mad dogs from the 'Victory Front' will at least have to shut up for a while! Come on, have some soup first! Nothing is more important than eating!"

The rich aroma of soup filled the command post, even temporarily masking the smell of gunpowder and blood.

This is the taste of life and victory.

……

after one day.

On the other side of the world, in Langley, Virginia, the headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA).

The former director Vincent's office appeared somewhat empty and cluttered.

Several cardboard boxes were scattered on the carpet, containing personal items—framed photos, a few books, and a commemorative mug.

Vincent himself, the intelligence chief who resigned due to a series of recent "strategic miscalculations" and "operational failures," is quietly placing the last piece of his collection—an exquisite model of an F-16 fighter jet—into a cardboard box.

The office door was open, and the newly appointed acting director, Simon, stood in the doorway with a perfectly measured, slightly somber expression on his face.

"Vincent, it's really a shame to see you leave."

Simon’s voice sounded quite sincere, but there was no trace of regret in the depths of his sharp eyes. “You know, it’s all political necessity. Someone always has to take responsibility.”

Vincent didn't stop what he was doing, nor did he even look up at him. He simply replied, "Just do your job, Simon. This position isn't easy to hold."

His tone was calm, yet carried a subtle hint of sarcasm and weariness.

Simon gave a forced smile. "Of course, I'll do my best. Keep in touch." With that, he turned and walked briskly down the corridor to the spacious director's office that was now his.

Closing the heavy solid wood door shut out all outside noise.

The heavy mask on Simon's face vanished instantly, replaced by a smug, even somewhat frivolous, expression.

He practically skipped around the large, shiny desk made of precious mahogany, plopped down in the soft, comfortable high-backed leather office chair, and reached out to straighten his name tag.

He proudly propped his feet up on the smooth tabletop, the tips of his shoes pointing towards the ornate chandelier on the ceiling.

He gazed out the window at the lush greenery of Langley and couldn't help but whistle a light, indistinct tune, his fingers tapping a pleasant rhythm on the armrest.

The taste of power is so wonderful.

Just then, there were two cautious knocks on the door.

Simon seemed to be electrocuted, jerking his feet off the table, quickly straightening his body, adjusting his tie, and instantly reverting to his serious, dignified, and composed expression, as if the smug person from just moments before was not him at all.

"Please come in."

His voice became deep and magnetic.

The door was pushed open, and a middle-aged senior analyst in a well-fitting suit with a serious expression strode in, carrying a folder.

“Director, excuse me. This is the latest intelligence briefing we just received from the Middle East front, assessed as ‘urgent.’” The analyst placed the folder on Simon’s desk.

"Thank you." Simon nodded slightly, his face expressionless, until the analyst turned and left, gently closing the door behind him.

He picked up the thin intelligence briefing and quickly flipped through it.

The briefing was very concise:
...The logistics center in Dehok town was attacked by unidentified elite troops, resulting in the destruction of a large amount of supplies and heavy losses to the defending forces...

...In the Haibab direction, the continued offensive by the "Victory Front" forces against government defensive nodes has been repelled, the offensive has collapsed, and the troops are showing signs of retreat...According to multiple sources, their frontline commander, Abu Omar, may have been assassinated during the fighting...

Preliminary analysis indicates that this series of operations was planned by a highly organized team of military advisors. Intelligence suggests that the key figure is "Song Heping," who is reportedly in close cooperation with the Russian Wagner Group and local resistance forces, and played an actual battlefield command role in the defense of Haibaib...

Simon's smugness began to fade, and his expression slowly became complicated.

He became the acting director.

but……

The relationship between myself and Song Heping...

What to do?

　There was an error in the previous chapter, which has been corrected. I'll see if I can offer free compensation for the next chapter.

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(End of this chapter)