Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1284 The Last Piece of Afanti's Puzzle

Song Heping jumped out of the car, and the first thing he saw was a battlefield in ruins.

Even in the darkness, the wreckage and corpses were visible through the vehicle lights. Burning pickup trucks billowed black smoke, and the sand was stained dark red with blood.

In the distance, groups of prisoners were being escorted toward the temporary camp.

Then he saw that familiar figure—

Afanti was standing next to a T-72S tank, giving instructions to several officers.

Even from a distance, Song Heping could recognize his old friend's distinctive hand gestures.

As if sensing something, Afanti turned his head.

Their eyes met in the air.

Song Heping walked through the battlefield where the smoke of battle had not yet dissipated, his boots rustling on the sand as he occasionally had to dodge the scattered wreckage of weapons and the unburied corpses.

Afanti walked towards him, and the staff behind him stopped in tacit agreement, keeping a distance.

The two stopped at the same time when they were three meters apart.

“Song!” Afanti spoke first, a familiar smile on his face. “Looks like you’ve made yourself into a mess again.”

Song Heping looked down at his combat uniform, which was covered in dust and blood, and then at Afanti's neat Holy City Brigade digital camouflage—only his boots had some sand on them.

He smirked: "Someone has to fight on the front lines. Unlike some people who sit in tanks and enjoy the view."

"My tank just ran over at least twenty 1515 lunatics."

Afanti stepped forward, but instead of shaking hands, he patted Song Heping's shoulder forcefully, so forcefully that Song Heping swayed slightly. "It's good that you're alright. I was having tea on the border when I received your emergency signal to deploy."

“You made quite a show of ‘drinking tea’.”

Song Heping glanced at the still-burning battlefield in the distance. "Fifteen thousand men, the entire elite force of the Holy City Brigade, right? Why are those old men in Tehran willing to go all out this time?"

Afanti's smile deepened: "When they hear that someone is going to open a side door to Celia for us in Iligo... even the stingiest old man will become generous."

The two exchanged a glance, both seeing in each other's eyes the unspoken understanding that only old friends could comprehend.

The joint operations over the years, and the countless long conversations in encrypted channels—all the past collaborations have coalesced into unspoken trust at this moment.

"Find a quiet place?"

Song Heping made a gesture, "I need to know Tehran's bottom line, and you also need to know my next move."

“It’s all ready.” Afanti turned and led the way. “I have your favorite Longjing tea in my command vehicle—I specially sent someone to buy it last year, and I’ve been saving it to give to you. I brought it here today so you can taste it.”

Next to the armored command vehicle, a marching table and stove were broken up, and the aroma of tea filled the air.

Nasreddin skillfully rinsed the teaware, his technique so adept it resembled that of an Eastern tea master rather than a Persian general.

Song Heping leaned back in the simple chair, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and finally relaxed his nerves, which had been tense for more than ten hours.

"Try it." Afanti pushed the teacup towards him. "Although it can't compare to the top-grade tea in your country, it's already a luxury in this godforsaken place."

Song Heping took a sip, the warm tea flowing smoothly down his throat: "Not bad. It's a pretty good tea."

Afanti also picked up his teacup: "Drinking tea can make one clear-headed. And what we need most right now is clarity."

After a couple of rounds of tea, the conversation turned to business.

Afanti put down his teacup, his expression turning serious:

"Old Song, to be honest, when you presented this plan to me two months ago, I reported it to Tehran, and they thought you were crazy. Navigating the quagmire of Iriego, a complex web of power struggles, simultaneously maneuvering between the US military, government forces, the 1515, and various tribal militias, all while trying to create a safe corridor for us from Persia through northern Iriego to Syria..."

He paused, a complex look flashing in his eyes: "But I bet you'll win. I used my twenty years of reputation in the Holy City Brigade as collateral to persuade the Supreme Council."

Song Heping twirled the teacup in his hand: "So you personally led the team here."

“If I don’t come, the commanders appointed by the bureaucrats in Tehran may not fully understand your strategic intentions.”

Afanti leaned forward. "Now, Baiji, Mosul, parts of Kirkuk—you've completed a layout we never dared to dream of in years in less than three months. The final piece of the Shia Crescent will be completed tonight."

“It’s not completely fixed yet,” Song Heping said calmly. “Titerrick is still in 1515’s hands.”

A glint of light flashed in Afanti's eyes: "That's exactly what I wanted to say. Az has been captured, his troops have lost more than half their strength, and Tithric is now undefended. My troops are in high spirits, and your troops also need a great victory. If we join forces, we can take this city within a week."

His finger traced across the makeshift map: "Once we take Titrick, we'll have a complete foothold in northern Iriego. Then we can advance westward, join forces with the government forces in Siri, and completely open up this corridor. At that point, a continuous strategic passage will be formed from Tehran to Beirut—"

“We can’t hit Teterrick,” Song Heping interrupted him.

Afanti was stunned: "Song, this is the best opportunity—"

"Precisely because it is the best opportunity, we cannot take it."

Song Heping stood up and walked to the map. "Afanti, how long have we known each other? When have you ever seen me fight a battle unprepared?"

Afanti frowned but remained silent, waiting for Song Heping's explanation.

"Take a look at the big picture."

Song Heping's finger moved across the map. "If we take Titrick now, and 1515 loses their last major stronghold in central Iriego, they will completely withdraw their battle lines. What does that mean?"

"...The pressure on the Americans and the Iligor government forces in Ozam will be reduced." Afanti said thoughtfully.

“It’s not just about mitigation.” Song Heping turned around. “Once the US military can free up its forces in Ozham, the first thing that old fox Kurt will do is turn his attention to us. He already dislikes me, but he’s held back by 1515. If we help him eliminate this threat…”

He stared at Afanti: "How long do you think Washington will tolerate a PMC that controls three major cities in northern Iligo and is openly cooperating with the Persian Revolutionary Guard? Don't forget, our 'personal friendship' is one thing, but the presence of the Persian Revolutionary Guard in Iligo as a whole is another."

The two fell into silence.

The only sound was the occasional buzzing of electrical current from the communication equipment.

Afanti slowly picked up the now slightly cooled tea and drank it all in one gulp: "Continue."

“Second,” Song Heping sat back down, “if we eliminate 1515’s main force in northern Iligo now, the threat posed by this terrorist organization will be greatly reduced. At that point, international support for the continued presence of U.S. troops in Iligo will weaken—while Washington is eager to withdraw from this war.”

Afanti's pupils contracted slightly: "You mean..."

"I mean, we need 1515."

Song Heping smiled and said, "At the very least, they need to maintain a certain level of threat, continuing to contain the US and government forces in the Ozham and Titrick directions. As long as the threat of terrorism remains, the US military must stay here, and the international community must tolerate their presence. And as long as the US military remains contained..."

He paused for a moment: "They don't have enough energy and resources to deal with our 'minor problems,' so we have time to intervene in the situation in Celia."

Nasreddin remained silent for a full minute, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the table.

Finally, he shook his head with a wry smile: "Song, sometimes I really don't know whether you are a soldier or a politician who is well-versed in the art of power."

“On this land, you must be both,” Song Heping said calmly. “Otherwise, you won’t survive.”

These words touched Afanti.

He nodded, deeply moved, and said, "That's right, you make a lot of sense."

"So this time, we must take the initiative into our own hands."

Song Heping poured tea again. “Whether it’s to nurture an enemy for our own benefit or to maintain a strategic balance, we need time. Baiji’s oil refinery needs to resume production, Mosul needs to rebuild order, Samir’s troops need to be trained and reorganized… all of these take time. And the best way to give us time is to keep the Americans busy dealing with the ‘main threat’ at hand.”

Afanti stared at the map, his mind racing.

After a long pause, he let out a sigh of relief: "I agree with your analysis. So, what's the next step?"

Song Heping pointed to the map again: "First, the issue of prisoners of war. We have more than two thousand prisoners, but we can't keep them all. We need to select them—officers, foreign soldiers, and die-hards will stay, and the rest of the local militants will be released after 'education'."

"Release?" Afanti frowned. "Isn't that like letting a tiger return to the mountains? Those old men in Tehran will probably start having all sorts of wild thoughts when they hear that."

Song Heping said, “Killing eight thousand, capturing two thousand, and destroying a large amount of equipment—this is already a major victory for you. As for those you released… let them take a message with them: the Persian Revolutionary Guard has arrived, and they are very powerful. They should go east, to Ozam, where there are 'easier' enemies.”

Afanti immediately understood: "Let them spread the fear, and at the same time strengthen the troops on the Eastern Front to put more pressure on the American army."

“That’s right.” Song Heping nodded. “Second, Titrick. We won’t occupy it, but we will establish a forward base 20 kilometers north of it, making it appear as if we might attack at any time. In this way, 1515 will have to divert some of its already insufficient forces to defense, further weakening their strength in the Ozam direction.”

"Surround without attacking, draw the enemy in without firing." Afanti grasped the essence, "To show the Americans our ability to 'take Titrick at any time.' Brilliant."

“Third,” Song Heping continued, “we need to consolidate our existing gains. The Baiji oil refinery must resume production as soon as possible; that will be an important source of funding for us. You Persians can stay there to strengthen defenses. Mosul needs to rebuild order, and I intend to let Samir’s ‘Liberation Forces’ take over security there. As for Kirkuk… the situation there is more complicated, involving the Kurds, and needs to be handled carefully. I’ll leave it to Abuyu to deal with.”

Afanti pondered for a moment, then took out a document from his briefcase: "Speaking of funds and equipment... this is Tehran's authorization letter. They agree to provide you with five thousand assault rifles, two hundred general-purpose machine guns, one hundred rocket launchers, fifty mortars, and the corresponding ammunition. In addition, there is a twenty million dollar interest-free loan for rebuilding the infrastructure in Baiji and Mosul."

Song Heping took the document and quickly browsed through it.

The quality and quantity of these equipment exceeded his expectations.

“The S-5.56 assault rifle is an improved version of your export-type CQ assault rifle,” Afanti added. “It’s much better than the second-hand Soviet-made rifles that Samir’s men are currently using. The heavy machine gun is the Persian version of the MG3, and the rocket launcher is the RPG-29, which can penetrate the side armor of most main battle tanks.”

"A big spender." Song Heping put away the documents. "It seems the old men in Tehran are really going all out this time."

“It’s just an investment,” Afanti waved his hand. “We need a stable ally to control northern Iligo, which is in Persia’s national interest. A strong ‘Liberation Force’ militia can not only maintain stability here, but also serve as a force we can rely on in the Sirian direction when necessary.”

The words weren't explicitly stated, but both understood.

If the situation in Syria changes in the future, this well-trained and well-equipped force in northern Iligo could become one of the many armed forces in the Shia Crescent.

"What about the supply channels?" Song Heping asked.

“It’s already in the planning stages,” Afanti said with a smile. “From the Persian border to Mosul, it’s about 300 kilometers. We will establish a ‘civilian goods transport corridor,’ which can actually transport anything needed. The first convoy will depart next month, including equipment and spare parts urgently needed by the oil refinery.”

He stood up and extended his hand again—this time a formal handshake: "Song, you are the most strategic person I have ever met. I've said it before, but I still want to say it today."

Song Heping also stood up and grasped the other's hand: "You are also the least Persian general I have ever seen."

The two looked at each other and smiled.

It was already 11 p.m.

On the battlefield, cleanup efforts are still ongoing.

The beam of the searchlight pierced the darkness, illuminating busy figures.

In the distance, low prayers could be heard from the prisoner-of-war camp—some prisoners were performing Isha prayers.

"They are still praying to God."

Nasreddin looked in that direction, his tone complex, "Even after committing so many crimes, they still believe they are carrying out God's will."

“Everyone needs faith to support themselves,” Song Heping said, “no matter what that faith is.”

Afanti turned to look at him: "And you, Song? After all these years, what have you believed in?"

Song Heping gazed at the stars in the night sky.

“I believe in order,” he said after a long silence. “After experiencing enough chaos, you will find that establishing order is much harder, but also much more precious, than creating chaos.”

A pickup truck pulled up, and Samir jumped out, quickly walked up to Song Heping, and saluted: "Boss, the garrison in Kiri Town has withdrawn and is moving towards Baiji. Casualty statistics... So far, we have lost 1,423 people and wounded over 700."

His voice was hoarse, his eyes were bloodshot, and there was still blood on his face.

Song Heping patted him on the shoulder: "They didn't die in vain. Now, go and gather the troops and take care of the wounded. Starting tomorrow, we will rebuild Baiji."

"Yes!"

Samir saluted again, glanced at Afanti, and hesitated before speaking.

“General Afanti, you’ve met him before, he’s a friend of the Persian Revolutionary Guard,” Song Heping introduced. “From now on, we’ll be cooperating directly with their people here. You go ahead and get busy, I’ll talk to you about the details later.”

Samir nodded and turned to leave.

Nasreddin watched Samir's retreating figure and thought, "That lad is a good guy."

“He’s alright, just a bit slow,” Song Heping said. “But he’s loyal enough. That’s very important.”

The two stood there for a while longer before leaving to attend to their respective unit affairs.

Song Heping returned to his command vehicle and turned on the satellite-encrypted computer.

The screen lit up, and he quickly typed in a series of commands.

A short progress bar pops up on the screen, eventually displaying "Phase 1 Complete".

He turned off the computer, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

The faces of those who died in Kiri, at the ambush site, and in today's battle flashed through my mind—

The mercenaries who followed him from Mosul to Baiji, the Iligo youths who joined the "Liberation Forces"...

The long night is about to end, and a new day is about to begin.

American troops, Persians, Turkish people, Russians, 1515, Kurds, government troops...

All players are in position.

What follows will be a more complex game of strategy. In the future, in addition to the situation in northwestern Ilig, we should also consider how to intervene in the situation in Seria.

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)