Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1235 Interests and Morality

Just as Song Heping's troops were taking over Hurmatu in an orderly manner, a storm related to him was brewing and erupting in the distant Silaraca.

Raqqa, the underground command center of the so-called "Caliphate" in 1515.

The rough cement surface on the wall reflected the dim light from the bulbs, elongating and distorting the shadows into menacing, ghostly figures.

"Useless! All of you are useless! Basmu, that coward! Allah will curse his soul! How dare he abandon the warriors of God and run away like a stray dog!"

Bakdadi, who proclaimed himself "Caliph," completely lost the "divinity" he had deliberately maintained. He acted like a madman, slamming the humiliating battle report in his hand onto the heavy wooden table. The huge roar echoed repeatedly in the closed and oppressive underground space, shocking several core staff members to the point of turning pale. They wished they could bury their heads in their chests and even hold their breath.

“Song Heping! This heretic who deserves to go to hell! A Chinese! He tricked me! He tricked all of us!”

He was panting heavily, his eyes bloodshot like a spiderweb, like a wild beast chained up and on the verge of madness, futilely ramming against its cage.

"A feint... a damn feint! He's putting on a show of force in Hurmatu, but his real fangs are already set on Mosul! We... we've all been played like fools!"

Hurmatu was lost, Mosul changed hands, more than four thousand "jihadists" died, and more than three thousand became shameful prisoners of war...

This is not just a number; it's the instantaneous evaporation of more than seven thousand combat units!
In the two major control zones, the vital core of the "Levant Kingdom," which he had painstakingly built and regarded as his foundation, was pierced directly by Song Heping's fierce left hook, leaving it bleeding profusely and in excruciating pain!
A slightly older aide, knowing that silence at this moment might bring even more terrible consequences, finally mustered his courage and spoke tremulously: "...Supreme Caliph...the situation is extremely critical. The troops in the direction of Uzam, our last elite mobile force in northwestern Ilig, must be withdrawn to Seria immediately! Otherwise, once that devil Song Heping has digested the spoils of war at Hurmatu, stabilized the order in Mosul, and then marched north to take Titrick..."

"At that time, all our forces in northwestern Iligo, including those loyal tribal militias, will be stuffed into a giant sack! They will either head south into that vast desert inhabited only by death to fend for themselves, or... they will be slaughtered one by one by Song Heping and Abuyu's brigade, like sheep being butchered!"

Bakdadi abruptly turned his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the old aide who had spoken, as if he were about to pounce on him and tear his throat open with his teeth.

The old aide trembled with fright, swallowing back all the words he was about to say. He quickly lowered his head, not daring to meet his gaze, and cold beads of sweat instantly appeared on his forehead.

The basement fell into a deathly, suffocating silence, broken only by Bakdadi's heavy, dangerous breathing, like a bellows, and the faint hum of electricity passing through the light bulb.

Time ticked by, the oppressive atmosphere making one's heart feel like it was about to stop beating.

It felt like an eternity had passed. Bakdadi seemed to have been drained of all his energy by an invisible force. His violent madness quickly faded away, replaced by a profound sense of powerlessness and despondency.

With a thud, he slumped back into the high-backed chair that symbolized power, his once straight spine now hunched over.

He forced out a few words through gritted teeth:

"Notify... Ozam... withdraw."

He paused for a moment, his chest heaving violently, as if gathering his last bit of strength.

Then, a fierce, almost manic glint flashed in his eyes, and he added through gritted teeth:

"Order the garrison at Tithric to gather the fleeing soldiers at all costs and strengthen the defenses... Hold out for as long as you can! Even if it costs you your last drop of blood, make the heretics pay the price!"

He spoke almost word by word, using all his strength to utter the name of the plan that had long been drafted but had never been easily launched:

"Activate—Operation 'Desert Scorpion'!"

"Desert Scorpion" was not part of the operational plan for the main battlefield.

It is an indiscriminate and unrestricted plan of guerrilla attacks and terrorist sabotage targeting occupying forces, pro-government forces, and any collaborators.

This is one of the methods that the 1515 armed group is most adept at.

Even if the territory on the surface is lost and the regime collapses, 1515 will be like a scorpion in the desert, burrowing into the darkest layers of sand, using even bloodier and more unpredictable methods to make the enemy restless and to keep this land forever shrouded in the shadow of fear!
The next day, in the afternoon, outside the city of Mosul.

On the third day, a major road leading towards Erbil was leveled.

An Abuyu Brigade checkpoint is located here, consisting of a pickup truck equipped with a heavy machine gun and seven or eight soldiers.

They had just captured Mosul in the early hours of yesterday morning, and everyone was excited, so they were inevitably a little relaxed.

The checkpoint was surrounded by low-rise houses damaged to varying degrees by the war. Occasionally, a bold local civilian would peek out from among the ruins or hurry past pushing a cart.

The afternoon sun shone obliquely, carrying the scorching heat and glare unique to the desert region.

The soldiers, dressed in a motley crew of uniforms, were either smoking against sandbag fortifications or routinely checking the few passing vehicles and pedestrians.

Just then, a dilapidated, dusty white Nissan sedan came wobbling from the direction of Mosul city.

It wasn't fast, but it wasn't slow either, and it looked no different from any other ordinary vehicle trying to leave the chaotic city.

The soldier on guard raised his hand, signaling the vehicle to stop for inspection.

The white sedan slowed down gradually, seemingly cooperating with the process.

The driver was a man wearing a headscarf, and there was another person in the passenger seat, whose head was down and whose face could not be seen.

Everything looks normal.

However, just as the car was about to come to a complete stop, less than twenty meters from the sandbag fortifications at the checkpoint—

The man in the driver's seat suddenly raised his head, revealing a pair of empty, fanatical, and lifeless eyes!

“Allahu Akbar!”

He let out a low howl!

At the same time, he slammed his right foot down on the accelerator!
The dilapidated car engine roared as if on the verge of collapse, thick black smoke billowing from the exhaust pipe, as it charged forward like a mad bull!

"Enemy attack!!"

The experienced sergeant major reacted instantly, and his shrill roar pierced the oppressive afternoon air.

"Da da da--"

The heavy machine gunner behind the sandbag reacted extremely quickly, pulling the trigger almost at the same time the sergeant major yelled.

The scorching bullet belt swept across the car's hood and windshield, instantly shattering the glass into countless fragments. The man in the driver's seat shuddered violently, bursting into sprays of blood.

But it all seems too late!

The car's momentum only paused slightly, but thanks to its immense inertia, it continued to smash through the makeshift roadblock and plunge headlong into the core area of ​​the checkpoint—

"BOOM!!!!!!!!!!" A deafening explosion suddenly rang out, like a thunderclap from a clear sky! A fireball mixed with black smoke and flames soared into the air, instantly engulfing everything in the checkpoint!
The powerful shockwave spread outwards in a ring, engulfing sandbags, wrecked vehicle parts, and...

Human remains were thrown violently in all directions!
The two soldiers who were closest to the explosion didn't even have time to scream before they were instantly vaporized and torn apart by the high temperature and shock wave at the center of the explosion.

Soldiers further away were thrown back by the blast, crashing heavily into walls or the ground, bleeding from their mouths and noses, their fate unknown.

The armed pickup truck that was being used as cover was overturned on the ground, and the heavy machine gun was twisted into a pretzel shape.

Flames were burning, and thick black smoke billowed upwards.

The air was filled with the strong smells of gunpowder, gasoline, and burnt human flesh.

The wreckage crackled and popped, interspersed with the painful groans of the wounded.

The scene was like hell on earth.

The message was quickly relayed back to Hurmatu's temporary command post.

Inside the Hurmatu command post, the atmosphere was more somber than the previous joy of victory.

Song Heping had just ended a call with Abuyu, whose voice on the radio was filled with barely suppressed anger and lingering fear:
"Boss! These bastards are out of line! The checkpoint is destroyed, four brothers are dead, and three are seriously injured! The market was also blown up, injuring more than a dozen civilians! They've gone mad! They're digging holes everywhere like groundhogs! I don't know what happened today, but there have been more than a dozen suicide attacks targeting us in and around Mosul!"

Song Heping put down the communicator, walked to the huge electronic sand table, and looked deep in thought.

On the sand table, the blue area representing our control is expanding, but at this moment, it seems that invisible, red danger markers are constantly flashing inside and around these blue areas.

Samir approached with a newly compiled report, his face grim: "Boss, the statistics are in. In the past 24 hours, there was one suicide car bomb attack, two remote-controlled bomb attacks, and one attempted mine-planting incident in the Mosul direction. In the Hurmatu direction, three improvised IED devices were discovered and defused, and one sniper was killed. Our casualties... are mainly concentrated at the Mosul checkpoint."

Song Heping remained silent, his gaze shifting from Mosul to Hurmatu, and then to Titrick, who was under heavy siege.

"What do you think?"

He spoke slowly, his voice calm, revealing neither joy nor anger.

Samir gritted his teeth: "It's obvious that 1515 is unwilling to accept defeat. This is a standard act of terrorist retaliation! They can't win in a direct confrontation, so they resort to these underhanded tricks! They're trying to create panic, shake the foundations of our rule, and ensure that even if we take the city, we won't have peace!"

The intelligence officer beside him added:
"Judging from the methods and timing of the attacks, this was by no means an isolated or spontaneous act of retaliation. There must have been unified instructions and coordination. It is very likely that Bakdadi, in a desperate move, activated their covert plan and terrorist network."

Song Heping nodded without saying anything.

“That’s all true. This is a clear signal that they’ve gone underground.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the core officers present. "They want to use this low-cost, insidious method to drag us into the quagmire of counterinsurgency, keep us running around, and deplete our energy, resources, and morale."

"Then let's..."

Samir looked at Song Heping, awaiting instructions.

"I have already issued the response measures. Raise the alert level, upgrade the counter-terrorism level, increase patrols and searches, expand the intelligence network, and dig out these rats."

Song Heping's tone remained calm.

"This kind of thing can't be stopped. As long as Bakdadi is alive, the attacks will not stop."

Samir was clearly not satisfied with the answer.

However, Song Heping did not give him a chance to continue asking questions, and instructed him: "Samir, what you need to do now is to go down to your troops and implement preventive measures, not to look for an answer from me. When I have the answer, I will tell you."

"Yes, boss."

Samir had no choice but to turn and leave.

After he left, Jiang Feng couldn't help but ask, "Old squad leader, we can't just stay on the defensive; we should take the initiative! Finding the people from 1515 shouldn't be difficult; many of them aren't locals..."

"I know."

Song He interrupted Jiang Feng expressionlessly.

He glanced at the doorway, and after confirming that no one was there, he walked to the window and looked out at the streets of Hurmatu, where the rubble was being cleared and life was gradually returning.

"The existence of 1515, especially its continued trouble-making nature, may not be entirely a bad thing for us."

Upon hearing this, Jiang Feng showed a slightly surprised expression.

Song Heping turned around, his gaze sharp: "Think about what Colonel Kot is doing in Baghdad's Green Zone right now. We've taken Mosul, and it looks like we're about to devour Titrick, our sphere of influence is expanding rapidly. What will Kot and his backers think? Will they genuinely cheer for us? No, they'll only feel fear and a sense of threat. They'll do everything they can to hinder us, divide us, and even take over our command and our territory."

He sneered: "But what if the 'Desert Scorpion' continues to operate? What if the security situation in Mosul, Hurmatu, and even Titrick in the future remains dire, and the shadow of terrorist attacks never dissipates?"

Jiang Feng's eyes lit up, as if he understood something: "You mean... we need to make Colonel Kotter, and the Baghdad side, clearly realize that this area cannot do without us? Can't do without your leadership and the protection of our team?"

"Yes."

Song Heping affirmed, “A completely peaceful northwest is dangerous for us, because ‘when the birds are all gone, the good bow is put away.’ Only a northwest with a continuous but controllable low-intensity threat can highlight our irreplaceable value. The existence of the 1515 bandits is precisely our best bargaining chip for ‘self-respect.’ As long as they don’t form a large-scale rebellion and don’t threaten our core control areas and logistical lines, then their sporadic activities, to some extent, are helping us prove to Baghdad—this place is indispensable to us!”

This is Song Heping's strategy of "nurturing bandits to enhance his own importance".

It's not about raising a tiger to cause trouble, but about incorporating the enemy's remaining forces into one's own strategic game, turning their negative impact into political capital that benefits oneself.

This is a risky move that requires a high degree of control and a keen sense of proportion, but it is undoubtedly the choice that best serves the interests of the group in the current complex situation.

"of course."

Song Heping's tone turned cold: "'Raising' doesn't mean indulging. What we need to control is the 'frequency' and 'scale' of the attacks. At the same time, we need to intensify the screening of prisoners, especially those mid- to low-ranking officers and local personnel. We need to use the information they provide to dig out as many 'Scorpion's' nests and communication lines as possible, first take control of their network, and then take down a few key nodes when the time is right, but without completely killing them."

He looked at Jiang Feng and said very seriously, "We are a defense company. Remember, a stagnant 1515 is the best fit for our interests."

"Understood!"

Jiang Feng responded softly, his eyes filled with understanding.

　Asking for a monthly ticket! ! ! ! !

　　
　
(End of this chapter)