Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1246 The Empire's Compromise

I waited for two whole days.

A full 48 hours.

There was no movement.

When the telephone rang in the command post, the crisp ringing broke the silence and seemed particularly abrupt, instantly interrupting Song Heping's ongoing tactical simulation.

No one has been idle these past few days. Before the Americans officially back down, all precautions must be taken seriously and all contingency plans must be perfected.

Song Heping simulates different scenarios every day and devises countermeasures.

On the map spread out next to the wooden table, the Mosul-Titrick area was densely marked with red and blue pencils, with several key attack arrows and defensive lines standing out particularly.

The ringing of the bell brought their conversation to an abrupt halt.

This phone number is for contacting Bakda.

Its sound often means that there is news from the Americans.

Song Heping's eyes flickered slightly, and Jiang Feng, sitting next to the phone, had already picked up the dedicated cell phone as if by reflex, then quickly glanced at the number—

He whispered to Song Heping, "It's the Kurt line."

Song Heping showed no surprise, as if he had already anticipated the outcome.

He slowly picked up the teacup, blew on it, and leisurely sipped the tea, which was bitter yet strangely sweet. He let the scalding liquid linger in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it slowly, and then nodded.

Jiang Feng pressed the call button but didn't speak; he just listened quietly.

Finally, a male voice with a Texas accent spoke American English on the other end of the phone.

A few seconds later, Jiang Feng covered the microphone and lowered his voice even further: "Kurt himself specifically requested to speak with you."

Song Heping then put down his teacup, stood up, and took the phone that was handed to him.

His movements were unhurried and unhurried, as if he were answering a routine business inquiry rather than a call that might determine their future.

"I am Song."

His voice was as calm as a deep pool, revealing no emotion whatsoever.

Colonel Kurt's voice came from the other end of the phone. Even though it was somewhat distorted by encryption, one could still hear a subtle hint of compromise hidden beneath the deliberately maintained official tone.

Mr. Song,

Kurt skipped all the small talk.

"After careful internal evaluation and full communication with Washington, we have agreed in principle to hold face-to-face consultations with you in Hurmatu regarding the follow-up action plan in the Mosul-Titrick region and the misunderstanding between Delta Force and you two days ago. The meeting is in two days. My superiors have asked me to contact you to hear your attitude and opinions."

"Agreeing to consult in principle"—Song Heping knew perfectly well that this was just the US saving face. The fact that they took the initiative to propose negotiations meant that they felt pressured and needed to sit down and talk.

If American imperialism ever tries to reason, it's only because it's forced into a corner...

The great man's words echoed in his mind again, and the corners of his mouth curved upwards almost imperceptibly as he smiled:

"Of course. Jiang Feng will confirm the specific time and location with you later."

"very good."

Kurt paused, as if he wanted to say something more, but ultimately only added in a formulaic way, "Hopefully this meeting will yield constructive results."

"I hope so too."

Song Heping responded indifferently.

"People from Tokyo University don't like war unless absolutely necessary, right?"

These words are quite meaningful, and the underlying meaning is all too clear—it's you Americans who are stirring up trouble, not me!
call ended.

Song Heping put down the receiver, turned around and walked back to the table.

Samir and Jiang Feng stared at him, their eyes filled with inquiry and expectation.

Samir impatiently tapped the table with his knuckles.

"Boss, what's going on? What did that old bastard Kurt say?"

Samir's tone was urgent.

Song Heping sat down, not answering immediately, but instead picked up the cup of tea that had cooled slightly, tilted his head back and took a big gulp, as if trying to use the bitter liquid to suppress the turmoil in his heart.

Then, under the intense gazes of the two men, he slowly uttered a few words: "The Americans can't sit still anymore. Two days later, Hurmatu, negotiations."

"Really coming?!"

Samir was taken aback for a moment, then slammed his hand on the table, making the teacup rattle. A triumphant smile instantly spread across his face. "Damn it! They finally gave in! These Washington gentlemen have to bow down after all!"

Even the usually composed Jiang Feng's eyes flashed with an uncontrollable glint, and his tense lips relaxed, revealing a genuine smile.

He grabbed the rough teapot on the table and refilled Song Heping's and his own empty cups with strong black tea: "Let's drink tea instead of wine, old squad leader. We've got the upper hand this round! It's worth a toast!"

"Yes! We have to drink! To those Americans bowing down!"

Samir loudly echoed, his spirits high. He picked up his cup of tea, and without caring whether it was hot or not, tilted his head back and gulped it down, as if he were drinking the finest wine to celebrate victory, not tea.

Song Heping raised his glass and clinked it forcefully with the two men.

"This is just the beginning. The real contest will begin in the negotiations two days from now. What we need is not a temporary compromise, but real strategic space and time."

Jiang Feng analyzed: "The fact that the Americans took the initiative to negotiate shows that they are indeed feeling the pressure. It may be due to international public opinion, or it may be because their internal assessment is that the cost of going to war with us is too high. However, I think they will never give in easily, especially on core interests. In the negotiations two days later, they will definitely put forward all kinds of harsh conditions, and even plant obstacles."

"Nothing wrong."

Song Heping gave Jiang Feng an approving look.

"They want to quickly achieve results to report back home. But we must not follow their lead."

He knew perfectly well that his biggest advantage was precisely that he "could not win quickly".

Once the 1515 forces are swiftly eliminated from northwestern Iligo, the value of this "irregular" armed force to the Americans will plummet, and the inevitable outcome will be the same: once the birds are gone, the bow is put away; once the rabbit is dead, the hound is cooked.

He must prolong the crackdown, consolidating his territory, expanding his influence, and accumulating strength in the process, while also more deeply binding himself to regional stability, making the Americans realize that the cost of taking action against him is far greater than the cost of tolerating his existence. "We need time."

Song Heping pointed his finger heavily at the core area of ​​Mosul-Titrik on the map, his eyes sharp as he said:
"At least three years! It will take us three years to fully establish ourselves. At the same time, we need to extend our reach further, for example..."

He didn't say it explicitly, but Jiang Feng understood that the Afghan military logistics transportation contract that the US military had previously agreed to in order to reach a cooperation agreement was an excellent springboard and resource supplement, and it was something that had to be secured.

"We must make sure they show sincerity and hand over the business to us," Jiang Feng reminded them.

“Yes.” Song Heping looked at Samir: “Samir, these three years were also fought for you.”

"For me?" Samir was somewhat taken aback.

“That’s right,” Song Heping said. “To truly gain a foothold in Iligo, it’s not enough for you to lead this small militia force. You need to get involved in politics.”

"Participate in politics?" Samir's eyes widened in surprise.

“That’s right.” Song Heping said, “After the Iligo War, now that your government has formed a cabinet, those who can sit at the table to participate in voting and policy decisions are all local forces. If I help you gain a foothold in northwestern Iligo and expand your ranks, then you will be qualified to sit at the table and eat.”

"This……"

Samir was stunned and his heart was pounding.

It's not that he hasn't had such ambitions.

However, the chances of such an ambition being realized are extremely small, almost nonexistent.

Currently, key members of the Iligo government are leaders of various local powers, including military leaders, religious leaders, and heads of major local forces. Even the Kolds have a place in the government because of American support and their occupation of Erbil.

But what am I?
The leader of a small-to-medium-sized militia organization.

Serve at the table?
That was a goal I had thought about before but never dared to imagine achieving.

"Boss...you're not kidding?"

"A joke?" Song Heping sneered. "Samir, how long have you known me? Do you think I'm the kind of person who likes to joke about important matters?"

Samir was stunned for a moment.

Song Heping is indeed never a hip-hop artist; he always keeps his word.

Moreover, I always keep my promises.

so……

He felt a surge of ecstasy, and the hairs on his body stood on end from excessive excitement.

"Thank you... thank you boss."

Samir stammered a little because he was excited.

"Don't thank me. To be honest, helping you is also helping myself. After all, you have a place in Iligo, so I'll have somewhere to go for refuge in the future, right?"

Song Heping's response this time was somewhat joking.

But Jiang Feng, standing to the side, knew that the old squad leader was definitely not joking.

Song Heping's business is too big, especially in the defense and arms industry, so he must have offended a lot of people.

Over the years, several major intelligence agencies have been offended. Although they now appear to be cooperating with the Americans, this cooperation is not a new thing. From Iraq to Mexico to Afghanistan, each time there has been a honeymoon period followed by a falling out over interests.

There are no eternal friends, only eternal interests.

Sometimes, in the PMC industry, in this somewhat gray underworld, this is the ironclad rule.

After a brief conversation, the atmosphere became heavy again.

Song Heping walked to the window, pushed open the dusty window, and the hot, dry afternoon wind from Hurmatu immediately rushed in, carrying sand and dust and the noise of the distant market.

Winning the right to negotiate is only the first step.

The real battle will begin in two days.

He must make the most of every card he has – the initiative on the battlefield, a deep understanding of the region’s complexities, and the “dirt” that can make some people in Washington uneasy – to carve out a bloody path for himself and his brothers who rely on him at the negotiating table and win precious space for survival and development.

"Oh, right, Samir, there's one more thing. These past two days, we've maintained high pressure on the front lines of the Tikrit defenses, but kept the scale under control. We can't make 1515 comfortable, nor can we give the Americans the illusion that we're too eager to achieve our goals."

Song Heping squinted at the blinding sunlight in the distance.

"To keep them hooked is like feeding a dog; you can't let them get too hungry or too full. If they're hungry, they'll bite; if they're full, they won't be dependent on you."

"Understood! Leave it to me!"

Samir grabbed the helmet from the table, deftly put it on his head, and strode out.

After he left, Song Heping turned to Jiang Feng.

"Jiang Feng, immediately prepare a negotiation plan. Analyze all possible terms, especially the key points such as time limits, autonomy of action, and resource support, and formulate our bottom line and objectives. Also, contact Henry to strengthen intelligence gathering. I need to know what kind of authorization Kurt brought this time, as well as the specific background and negotiation style of that Washington envoy Winslow."

"Yes, I'll get started right away."

Jiang Feng responded calmly.

The order was given, and the two quickly left, returning the safe house to silence.

Song Heping stood alone by the window, the setting sun casting a long shadow over him.

He took a deep breath; the air was filled with the smells of gunpowder, dust, naan bread, and animal dung—a unique, brutal, and authentic atmosphere of northwestern Iligo.

He knew that he was about to embark on a battlefield without gunfire, yet equally dangerous.

But he had no choice.

"To live is to win."

He whispered to himself.

"And to survive, you have to win."

　Asking for a monthly ticket!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)