Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1288 Large-scale Water Release

Two days later, at the top-floor command center of the Baiji Municipal Building.

Song Heping stood in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the city that had just experienced the ravages of war.

The chimneys of the Baiji oil refinery are smoking again, although production is only one-third of what it was before the war, but it at least symbolizes the restoration of order.

On the streets, militiamen from the "Liberation Forces" are patrolling, helping residents clear rubble and distributing relief supplies.

"Sir, an urgent communication from Commander Samir." The voice of the duty communications officer came from behind.

Song Heping turned around and walked to the communications control panel.

Samir's face appeared on the screen, with the Mosul command center's operations room in the background.

"Boss, we have the latest intelligence on the Hurmatu direction."

Samir cut to the chase: “You previously instructed me to strengthen surveillance in Hurmatu. Today, our informants there reported that at least twelve C-130 transport planes landed at Hurmatu Airport in the past 48 hours, unloading a large amount of military supplies. In addition, a Kold's armed convoy, consisting of at least a hundred trucks and armored vehicles, is heading towards Hurmatu along the highway from Erbil.”

Song Heping frowned slightly: "What about Thunder Defense?"

"They are also increasing their troop presence. According to observations, at least five hundred more mercenaries have been added, and six M1128 Stryker mobile artillery systems have also been brought in."

Samir paused for a moment. "Boss, this doesn't look like a normal rotation or resupply. They're building up their forces."

The command center fell completely silent.

Jiang Feng approached, his expression turning serious.

“Kurt finally couldn’t hold back anymore,” Song Heping said softly, his tone unreadable, whether he was surprised or had expected it. “He wants to bypass us and take over Tetrick himself. Heh, this guy really has a big appetite.”

“Is there anything we need to do?” Samir asked. “Should we reinforce the defenses of Mosul and Baiji? If the Americans want to attack us, we need to prepare in advance—”

“No,” Song Heping shook his head. “Korte doesn’t have the energy to deal with us right now; his primary target is Tetrick. But he made a mistake…”

He walked to the battle map and drew his finger from Hurmatu to Titrick, and then from Titrick to the western border of Silia.

"He thought that in 1515 there were only 18,000 men in Titrick and that they would not be able to get reinforcements."

Song Heping turned to Samir and asked, "Samir, has anything unusual happened recently on the western border of Mosul?"

Samir paused for a moment, then understood: "I'll have someone investigate immediately!"

Communication is temporarily interrupted.

Song Heping took his teacup and walked to the window, looking at the distant scenery. The steam from the teacup rose slowly in the sunlight, and his thoughts raced.

Kurt's plan looked perfect on paper.

Seven thousand ground troops, plus overwhelming air support, attacked an 18,000-strong garrison that was demoralized and disorganized.

If the government forces in the direction of Ozam can successfully tie down the main force of 1515, Titrick could indeed be captured.

Unfortunately, war is never just talk.

Besides, he underestimated himself too much.

How could he allow the Americans to occupy Tetrick so easily?

Have you ever asked yourself, the King of the Northwest?

Fifteen minutes later, Samir's communication was restored.

This time, his tone was even more serious.

“Boss, you’re right. Six observation posts in western Mosul near the border have reported that at least three large convoys have entered Iligor from the direction of Cyria in the past 24 hours. Each convoy has 30 to 50 trucks and armed pickups, with an estimated 500 to 800 personnel. Our outposts intercepted them. The enemy had strong firepower, but they didn’t seem to have much will to fight. After a brief exchange of fire, they withdrew back into Cyria.”

A murmur rippled through the command center.

Several technical officers from the mercenary battalion quickly marked these infiltration routes on the map.

“They are testing us,” Song Heping said, taking a sip of tea. “Testing the strength of our defenses, looking for weaknesses.”

"Do we need to increase border patrols?" Samir asked. "I can send two battalions over—"

“No.” Song Heping interrupted him, a deep light flashing in his eyes. “Not only should we not strengthen it, we should also weaken it appropriately.”

Samir was stunned: "Sir?"

“Samir, listen carefully.” Song Heping walked to the communication screen and lowered his voice. “Starting tonight, open a gap in the ‘Liberation Force’s’ defenses on the border of Seria, in… here, in the Anbar Valley area. Don’t make it too obvious, but make it big enough to allow a medium-sized convoy to pass through.”

Samir opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he just nodded: "I understand. And then?"

"Then, let the locals spread the word. There must be spies from the 1515 armed group among them."

Song Heping continued, "Tell me that the Anbar Valley area, due to insufficient troops and weak defenses, is a 'safe passage' into Iligo. Remember, make it sound natural, as if the soldiers accidentally let it slip while complaining about insufficient troops."

This time, Samir understood completely.

His eyes lit up: "You mean to send the reinforcements from 1515 into Titrick?"

"It's not about giving up, it's about helping."

Song Heping corrected him, “Kurt thought 1515 was an isolated force, but we need to let him know that war is never a simple math problem.”

He paused, then added, “But we must be careful. Only genuine 1515 armed personnel can be allowed to pass through; civilians cannot be mixed in. Each release must be carried out at night. During the day, our defenses must appear perfectly normal.”

“Yes, boss!” Samir, who had always liked to question things, had no doubts this time and replied decisively, “I’ll arrange it immediately.”

After the communication ended, Song Heping returned to the map.

His fingers moved between the Anbar Valley, Mosul, Baiji, and Titrick, finally stopping at Hurmatu.

"Kurt, you want to go big?" he muttered to himself. "Then I'll play along. I just hope you won't regret it later."

That night, in the Anbar Valley, on the western border of Mosul.

This is a typical desert hilly area, with a dried-up riverbed winding through the valley, and severely weathered rock walls on both sides.

During the day, the temperature can soar to 50 degrees Celsius; at night, it can plummet to below 10 degrees Celsius.

The 3rd Battalion of the "Liberation Forces" was positioned on a high ground on the east side of the valley.

From there, one can overlook the entire valley, and theoretically, no convoy attempting to pass through can escape their sight.

But tonight, the situation is a little different.

Battalion Commander Major Machia squatted in the observation post, scanning the valley with a thermal imaging telescope.

His adjutant squatted down beside him and reported in a low voice: "Sir, as ordered, the 1st and 2nd companies have 'adjusted' their patrol routes, and there is now a three-kilometer-long blank zone in the middle of the valley. All landmines and IEDs have been removed... All defensive equipment is 'temporarily disabled'."

Major Machiavelli nodded, without putting down his binoculars.

He could see that about five kilometers away on the western border, there were more than a dozen heat sources moving around—the heat emanating from vehicle engines.

“They’re here,” he said. “Tell all companies that no one is to fire without my order. Repeat, no one is to fire.”

The order was relayed via encrypted radio. On the position, soldiers checked their weapons and adjusted their positions, but all kept their fingers outside the trigger guards.

This was an order personally issued by Song Heping. Although many people did not understand it, military orders are absolute.

Time passed by minute by minute.

At 2 a.m., the first convoy appeared in the valley.

Through his night vision goggles, Major Hassan could see the entire convoy—

Twelve armed pickup trucks, each with five or six armed men standing behind it, and machine guns mounted in the cargo bed.

There were three trucks in the middle, their awnings completely covered, and it was unclear what they were carrying.

The entire convoy traveled in the dark without its lights on, relying solely on the faint starlight and night vision equipment.

The convoy was moving slowly, clearly wary of a possible ambush.

The lead vehicle would stop from time to time to observe the road ahead using infrared binoculars.

Whenever this happens, the entire convoy stops, everyone grips their weapons, and prepares for battle.

But no battle took place.

The surrounding water was still and the river was deserted, a scene of utter stillness.

The convoy safely passed the first "line of defense"—

There should have been a platoon stationed there, but now there is no one there.

Then came the second course, the third course...

Each time they were prepared to engage in combat, but each time they encountered no resistance.

"God bless you..."

In the convoy, a bearded commander prayed in a low voice, "This road is really safe."

Unbeknownst to him, at least thirty rifles were aimed at them from the cliff face just two hundred meters above their heads.

With just one command, this convoy would be severely damaged within five minutes.

But they made it through safely.

At 3:20 a.m., the taillights of the last pickup truck disappeared into the east.

Major Machiavelli finally put down his binoculars and let out a long sigh of relief.

"Reporting to the brigade headquarters, the first batch of 'guests' has passed, a total of fifteen vehicles, heading towards Titrick."

For the next three days, the same scene played out every night in the Anbar Valley.

Sometimes it's a small convoy, sometimes it's an armed group trekking on foot.

Major Hassan faithfully carried out orders: observe, record, and let them pass.

The news quickly spread within 1515: there is a secret passage in the Ambar Valley that can safely enter Irigo and reinforce Tithric!
By the fourth day, the situation began to get out of control.

It was no longer a small force of dozens or hundreds of people, but a large-scale, organized transfer.

Samir, in his command post in Mosul, looked at the reports coming back from the border outpost, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.

"Five hundred people passed through last night, along with four pickup trucks equipped with ZU-23-2 anti-aircraft guns."

He reported to Song Heping, "Today's reconnaissance shows that at least two thousand people have gathered on the Syrian border, along with more vehicles and equipment. Boss, have we released too many?"

In the encrypted channel, Song Heping's voice remained calm:

“We’re only at this point. Samir, do you know how big Titrick is? It’s a city that can hold half a million people. To defend such a city, against the air superiority of the US military and the ground forces of the Kurt, 10,000 men are not enough, 20,000 men are not enough, at least 30,000 men are needed.”

Samir gasped: "You mean we're going to let over ten thousand people pass through?"

"To be precise, it's between 12,000 and 15,000 people," Song Heping said. "And they must be combat personnel. Tell your people that they only need to monitor, not intercept, and certainly not alert the enemy."

"But boss, my concern is that if we release too many of these extremists, it will be more difficult for us to deal with them later—"

"That's a problem for the future. Do you think Kurt won't go all out when he attacks Tetris this time? Of the more than 10,000 people released so far, how many do you think will survive to the end?"

Song Heping interrupted him, "Kurt wants a clean and decisive victory, but war is never that simple. Since he wants to kill us, he must bear all the risks."

After the call ended, Samir stood in front of the map, staring at the crisscrossing routes and messy spikes for a long time without saying a word.

The adjutant approached and asked in a low voice, "Chief, are we... helping those extremists from 1515 by doing this?"

Samir turned around and looked at the young adjutant: "How old are you, Lieutenant?"

"Twenty-three years old, sir."

"Then you should remember what it was like when 1515 first rose to power."

Samir walked to the window and looked west, towards Titrick. "In 2014, they executed thousands of people in Mosul and massacred an entire Yazidi village in Titrick. I had a cousin who was a captain in the government army. He was captured by them and burned alive in an iron cage."

He turned around, a complex light flickering in his eyes:
“I hate them more than anyone else. But Lieutenant, sometimes, for a greater purpose, we have to tolerate things we hate for a while. Mr. Song sees further than any of us; he knows what we’re doing.”

The adjutant nodded, seemingly understanding but not quite.

Just then, a new report came over the radio: "Brigadier, in the direction of Hurmatu! Colonel Kot's allied forces have begun to move! The vanguard has left Hurmatu and is advancing towards Titrick!"

Samir strode to the command platform:
"Notify all units to proceed according to the pre-arranged plan. The Anbar Valley Pass... will remain open for the last three days. After three days, it will be completely closed."

"Yes!"

At the same time the order was issued, 500 kilometers away, in Hurmatu.

Colonel Kurt stood in front of the command vehicle, watching the rolling torrent of steel before him.

Leading the charge were Thunder Defense's Stryker armored vehicles, carrying fully armed mercenaries; closely following behind were the pickup truck convoy of the Kold's forces, with soldiers in the trucks holding high flags and displaying great morale; in the sky, two AH-64 Apache attack helicopters flew low overhead, the wind whipped up by their rotors making Kold's combat uniform flutter loudly.

"Sir, the vanguard is expected to reach the outskirts of Titrick in six hours," the operations chief reported.

Kote nodded, his gaze fixed on the southeast.

That place is Titrick.

“Song Heping, you must be watching from Baiji right now,” he muttered to himself. “Once I take over this city, you’ll know who the true ruler of this land is.”

Kote was now brimming with confidence, but little did he know that at the very moment he looked toward Titrick, thousands upon thousands of armed men were pouring into the city from the Anbar Valley, from western Mosul, and from the border of Syria.

What Kurt thought was an easy victory is turning into a bloody battle he never expected.

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

　　
　
(End of this chapter)