Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1194 It's time to bring out something amazing.
After a long silence, Vladimir leaned forward, his gaze sharp as a knife, as if trying to see into Song Heping's soul: "Song, now I completely understand the source of your confidence. You're not just flexing your muscles... you're holding a gun to the Americans' temples and giving them two choices—negotiate or be destroyed."

Facing that gaze that could break an ordinary person, Song Heping calmly replied, "Mr. President, chaos is the ladder for adventurers, but also the grave of reckless men. I am an adventurer, but not a reckless man. I will not do things I am not sure of, just as I will not fight battles I am not sure of winning."

Vladimir stared intently at Song Heping, remaining silent for a full ten seconds.

Those ten seconds felt like an eternity.

Everyone held their breath, waiting for the person in power to make the final decision.

Finally, Vladimir slowly leaned back in his chair, his knuckles making two soft tapping sounds on the smooth tabletop.

"I must say, you really impressed me."

He was indeed speaking from the heart, and then turned to look at his several capable subordinates: "Petrovich, Zhao Yigu... to put it bluntly, what our military system lacks is a strategic-level military genius like Song."

It's just a feeling, nothing more.

He knew very well that not only could he not recruit Song Heping to his side, but Song Heping himself would never be willing to become his subordinate or advisor.

When Song Heping last came to Moscow, the then Minister of Defense Anatoly tried to recruit him by force, asking him to take his defense company's mercenaries to Syria as cannon fodder. However, Song Heping preferred to stage a night-long escape from Moscow rather than submit to others.

This shows that the person is very opinionated and intelligent, and more importantly, bold and adventurous.

The more he looked at Song Heping, the more he admired him.

Cherishing talent is a quality possessed by every visionary commander.

He was well aware of the capabilities of the Russian military system and his trusted advisors.

"What a pity..."

He couldn't help but sigh softly.

"What a pity, Mr. President?"

Song Heping clearly heard his sentiments.

"Your Russian is very good. Did you learn it from Yevgeny?"

Vladimir was unwilling to continue the topic.

He was a ruthless leader.

There's no need to waste time discussing things that are useless and fruitless.

So he got down to business: “Let’s set aside all the hypocritical pleasantries and probing. Now, I’m sitting right here. Tell me, what specific, measurable resources will Moscow have to give up in your blueprint for the ‘new order’? And what clear, sustainable, strategic returns can you and your ‘liberation forces’ bring us that are enough to change the balance of power in the region? What I want to hear are details, pathways, risk assessments, and guarantees of victory.”

The real test is only now arriving, belatedly.

All of the previous ones were just warm-up exercises.

Song Heping knew that the one who could make the final decision was the president in front of him, a former intelligence agent.

Song Heping walked to the electronic sand table again, picked up the light pen, turned it on, and began to skillfully mark the battlefield situation. He then elaborated on his long-conceived cooperation framework—from the deep sharing of intelligence networks, the precise delivery of specific weapons, and the coordinated operation of the international public opinion field, to the tiered configuration of joint strikes against 1515, and even how to ensure the bottom-line clauses of the core interests of the "Liberation Force" and its supporters in possible future political solutions…

Just as a top-level negotiation that would reshape the Middle East was taking place in the secluded chambers of the Kremlin.

On the other side of the world, in Washington, D.C., the sun is shining brightly.

In an office at the CIA headquarters, equipped with the highest level of security measures against electronic leaks, Acting Director Simon has just ended an encrypted satellite communication.

"finally come……"

He stared at the map of the Middle East on the computer for a full half minute before he came to his senses.

The encrypted communication channel just now transmitted a report from Ilig – on May 1515, a violent attack was launched on the southern part of the Kold'd controlled area. The US air intervention could only barely maintain the situation. Song Heping's "Liberation Forces" launched a surprise attack on Sulaymaniyah, cutting off the land route for US troops and supplies from Bakda to Erbil.

"Song...you're a real ruthless guy!"

Simon's shock was not entirely unexpected.

When he mentioned to Song Heping on the phone last time that he should "wait for the right time," he had a premonition that a storm was about to break.

Because Song Heping always keeps his word and never makes empty promises.

He was somewhat shocked by the ferocity of the storm.

After all, this is a blatant challenge to the US military.

It was an absolutely risky move.

He's really daring to gamble!
He went to the safe, unlocked the biometric lock, and took out a document that looked thin but was as heavy as a mountain.

The cover has no markings, only an internal code and a scarlet "top secret" stamp.

It details its "cooperation" proposal—in exchange for assistance in eliminating the 1515 militant group, in exchange for limited cooperation from the United States with both Persia and Russia in northern Iligo, and of course, the interests of 'Musician' Defense in northwestern Iraq.

This plan has been lying in the safe for the past few days, like a hot iron.

We've waited so many days, isn't this the opportunity we've been waiting for?
Now it seems that Song Heping really has the ability to create a fait accompli that forces the United States to back down.

Just like...

now!

Just as his fingertips were tracing the cold cover of the document, and he was torn between his inner turmoil, the red, secure telephone on the desk, which led directly to the pinnacle of power, suddenly emitted a piercing buzzer.

Simon glanced at the phone and could roughly guess who was calling.

Back at his desk, he picked up the receiver and, as was customary, announced his name to confirm his identity: "This is Simon Miller." A slightly aged middle-aged woman's voice came from the other end: "Director Simon, Mr. Brennan orders you to immediately cease all activities and proceed to the West Wing Situation Room of the White House with the highest priority. Emergency meeting, agenda: Major incident in northern Iligo."

That's right!

Everything is going as expected.

"I understand, I will set off immediately."

Simon put down the phone, took one last look at the document in his hand, and a resolute look flashed in his eyes.

This meeting is an opportunity for Song Heping, and it is also an opportunity for himself.

If things go well, and we wipe out the 1515 armed group, I can quickly get rid of my title as the acting agent.

Of course, there may also be significant risks.

After all, any American would be astonished by such a plan.

The time for hesitation quickly came to an end.

He stuffed the documents into an inconspicuous black briefcase, strode out of the office, tossed his assistant a "top priority task," and went straight into the private elevator, heading up to the rooftop helipad.

The 230-kilometer distance was covered in the blink of an eye.

When Simon pushed open the heavy soundproof door to the small conference room in the west wing of the white house, the room was already filled with bigwigs.

The man in the center was none other than Brennan, the president's National Security Advisor, whose face was as gloomy as the bottom of a pot.

To the left and right are the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Secretary of Defense (via video link), and several senior officials responsible for Middle East and strategic affairs.

On the giant screen in front, a military map of northern Ilig hangs high, with Sulaymaniyah pinned down by a blood-red mark.

Upon seeing Simon arrive, Brennan nodded to him and then signaled that the meeting could begin.

A Pentagon intelligence officer in an Air Force blue uniform is pointing a laser pointer at a map, speaking rapidly:

"...Gentlemen, the situation has deteriorated to a critical point. The 1515 militia has launched its most ferocious offensive ever. Although it has been severely damaged by our air power, its follow-up forces are still pouring in frantically. The Kold's defenses have been torn apart in many places, and urgent requests for help are pouring in like snowflakes. Most importantly, about three hours ago, the 'Liberation Forces,' a militia organization actually controlled by the 'Musician' Defense Company, and the Abuyu Brigade, together with other local armed forces, launched a textbook-perfect special operations raid and completely took control of the town of Sulaymaniyah!"

The laser red dot quickly and tightly encircled Sulaymaniyah.

"The strategic importance of this location is self-evident! The M5 highway and several auxiliary trunk lines converge here, serving as our main lifeline for supplying ammunition, fuel, provisions, and troop rotations to areas north of Erbil, including several Kold-controlled zones and forward outposts on the western flank of Kirkuk! At this moment, this lifeline has been completely severed! While our theater's airlift capabilities can address the immediate crisis, relying on airlifts in the long term is prohibitively expensive and cannot sustain the continuous operations of several brigade-level units in the north! Even more serious is the fact that the occupying forces have demonstrated a strong defensive resolve and hostility, and have begun to sabotage key road sections, establishing numerous checkpoints and obstacles..."

The intelligence briefing lasted a full fifteen minutes before it was declared over.

The meeting room erupted in chaos as soon as the junior officer left.

"We must regain control immediately!"

A general with four stars on his shoulder (in the video) slams his fist on the table in anger.

"This is a blatant provocation against our authority! A fatal blow to the confidence of our allies! It cannot be tolerated! We must crush them with the swiftest and most decisive strike!"

"I agree!"

Another senior Pentagon official sternly declared, “Immediately formulate a ‘punishment’ action plan! Mobilize the Army task force in Iraq, and launch a thunderous attack under the cover of the Air Force and Apache helicopters! A bunch of militiamen are nothing but dust in the face of overwhelming force!”

"Powder?"

An assistant secretary of state wearing frameless glasses coldly questioned, "General, according to our intelligence, the core members of the 'Liberation Forces' have undergone rigorous training by the 'Musicians' defense and Post special forces, are equipped with equipment comparable to regular light infantry, and their tactical skills far surpass those of ordinary local armed forces. Furthermore, their commander, Song Heping, is an extremely dangerous expert in asymmetric warfare. If we rashly launch a strong offensive and become bogged down in brutal urban warfare, or encounter fierce resistance leading to heavy casualties, who will bear the political responsibility and military risks? Don't forget that our ground forces in Iligo are already stretched thin; the president and Congress's stance is withdrawal, not starting a new war!"

“Then let the Iligor government forces lead the attack! We’ll provide air cover and intelligence support!” another suggested.

"Government troops?"

The general scoffed, "Their fighting strength and loyalty in the north are questionable! What are their chances of winning against a local force like the 'Liberation Forces'? Even if they manage to retake it, how long will it take? What will the cost be? In the meantime, if the northern Kolds collapse due to supply shortages, allowing 1515 to seize more large oil fields in the north, their funding will be more abundant than ever before. Will you take responsibility for that?!"

The debate has reached a dead end.

The pro-war faction is constrained by troop strength, risks, and political consequences; the pro-prudential faction is unable to resolve the immediate strategic disaster.

The atmosphere in the meeting room was extremely tense, and the arguments grew louder, but no constructive solutions were produced.

Brennan remained silent, his knuckles tapping unconsciously on the table, his face grim.

What he needs is a solution to break the deadlock, not endless accusations and excuses.

Time passes bit by bit.

Half an hour later, the debate was still ongoing, with differing opinions on how to handle the emergency.

Just then, Simon, who had been sitting silently like a shadow on the left side of the conference table, took a deep breath and suddenly stood up during a brief pause in another round of arguments.

"Mr. Brennan, gentlemen."

His voice wasn't loud, but it pierced the temporary tranquility like a knife slicing through a hazy window veil, instantly capturing the attention of everyone present.

"Perhaps... besides the various proposals and suggestions you just put forward, the CIA has an option that goes beyond the norm."

"An unconventional solution?"

Brennan's eyes flickered for a moment, then immediately locked onto him.

"Simon? Tell me about him."

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)