Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 828 Overnight

Eight hundred meters away on a sand dune, the hunter slowly ejected the spent cartridge.

The spent cartridge cases of the 7.62mm sniper rounds emitted wisps of smoke on the sand, and made a faint "ting" sound as they rolled down, which was quickly swallowed up by the sound of the desert wind.

He pressed the headset button, his voice as calm as if he were reporting on a shooting range exercise: "Target cleared."

"very good."

Song Heping's voice came through the channel, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, before he issued the order: "Full team, assault!"

Twenty elite soldiers from the “Musician” defense company leaped out from under the camouflage netting, their movements swift and silent.

Their desert camouflage uniforms blended almost seamlessly into the sand, with only the metal parts of their firearms occasionally flashing a cold light in the sunlight.

These men were personally trained by Song Heping. Each of them was a veteran who had experienced bloody battles, and their tactical skills far surpassed those of the rabble under the armies of warlords on the African continent.

The well-equipped special operations platoon plunged into the chaotic ranks of militants like a sharp dagger. The short bursts of the M4A1 and the long bursts of the PKM machine gun worked in perfect harmony, the bullets accurately reaping the remaining enemies.

The 30-odd surviving militants fell to the ground before they even knew who the attackers were.

Someone tried to raise their gun to fight back, but as soon as they raised the muzzle, a 5.56mm bullet blew their skull open.

In just twenty minutes, the battlefield fell completely silent.

"That idiot died without ever knowing who killed him."

Song Heping walked over the spent cartridge cases to Makur's body, squatted down, took the silver wine flask from the dead man's pocket, unscrewed it, and smelled it.

"Scotch whisky, aged at least 25 years."

He then walked over to Hakim, took off the gold Rolex from his wrist to examine it, and then handed it to the special operations platoon leader, Baker, beside him: "Keep it as a souvenir; it's worth more than the blood of these bastards."

Baker took the flask and the gold Rolex, grinning, "Boss, this thing can be traded for a pretty good gun on the black market."

"Then consider it your bonus."

Song Heping stood up and glanced across the battlefield.

The hunter approached, slung his sniper rifle over his shoulder, and asked, "What's the situation at Hakim and Makul's hideout?"

"Logically speaking, they should already be under the control of Jiang Feng and Bai Xiong."

Song Heping glanced at his watch.

"It's probably time to give our new employees onboarding training."

While Hakim and Markul were locked in a life-or-death struggle in the valley, Song Heping's other two teams had already begun their operations simultaneously.

First team: White Bear leads the raid on Hakim's gold mine.

Hakim's gold mine was located on the edge of North Darfur, in a strategically important location, but he had fewer than a hundred soldiers stationed there.

Most of the elite troops were taken by Hakim to trade arms, leaving only the old, weak, sick, and disabled, and a few gunmen to guard them.

The polar bear's tactics are simple—rapid raids and encirclement from multiple points.

Ten mercenaries sneaked into the mining area under the cover of night, using silenced pistols and daggers to take out the sentries on the perimeter.

By the time the guards in the mining area realized something was wrong, White Bear had already led his men to occupy the high ground and set up PKM machine guns.

"Lay down your weapons and surrender, or you will be spared!"

The polar bear roared in Arabic.

Several die-hard supporters tried to resist, but were taken down one by one by snipers.

The remaining guards looked at each other in bewilderment, and finally dropped their weapons.

The second team, led by Jiang Feng, launched a surprise attack on Makur's camp.

Makur's camp was more secure than Hakim's, but Jiang Feng's methods were more ruthless.

He ordered mortars to be set up around the camp, fired three rounds of mortars, causing chaos in the camp, and then led his men in an attack.

The remaining militants were caught off guard and were unable to mount any effective resistance.

Jiang Feng didn't even give them a chance to surrender—he had snipers specifically target those leaders who were trying to direct a counterattack, taking them down one by one and directly shattering their morale.

That afternoon, as the setting sun painted the Darfur sky red, Song Heping stood in the center of the "Justice and Peace" organization's camp.

Before him stood more than two hundred dejected armed men, and all around him were employees of the "Musician" company with machine guns set up.

"The choice is simple," Song Heping's voice boomed through the camp via loudspeaker. "Lay down your weapons, and you'll receive a basic monthly salary of five hundred dollars. Those who perform well can go guard the mines for a monthly salary of twelve thousand dollars. Of course, those who don't want to stay can go home; each will receive fifty dollars for travel expenses."

He paused deliberately, watching the commotion in the crowd—this price was three times more than they earned as bandits.

"The benefits seem pretty good."

"Much better than the old boss..."

"Is this the Chinese guy who shot down the American drone?"

"Yes, it's him, Song. He has a nickname, 'Sad'."

"or."

Suddenly, Song Heping raised his hand, and the sniper rifles at the four corners of the camp fired simultaneously. Five bullets accurately hit the newly erected target thirty meters behind him, each hitting the head area.

No further threats are needed. "I surrender! I'm willing to follow you!"

The first person to stand up and raise his hand was a one-eyed veteran.

Then came the second and the third.
Half an hour later, all two hundred-plus people expressed their intention to surrender.

"You will be in charge of training this group of people, and they should be trained according to the standards for PLA recruits."

Song Heping nodded to Jiang Feng.

"That's a bit too high a standard; this is Africa."

Jiang Feng looked troubled.

"Try your best." Song Heping understood Jiang Feng's predicament: "Just do your best, and if you really can't, send him away."

"Well... I feel like this is harder than winning a battle..."

Jiang Feng shook his head, immediately walked up to the prisoners and waved his hand: "Line up, come over here to register your names. Hurry up, don't dawdle and be lazy. Our company doesn't support idlers. Those who don't perform well after the training will still have to pay their travel expenses and get out!"

The satellite phone vibrated.

Song Heping glanced at the number, then walked to a secluded spot before answering.

"Congratulations!" The voice on the other end of the phone spoke with an Oxford accent: "Mr. Song, on behalf of Ms. M, I congratulate you. However, there's some news you might be interested in—the CIA has established a special task force, headed by Jasper."

It was Weber's voice.

“Please thank Ms. M for me.” Song Heping looked north, towards the beginning of the Sahara. “Tell London that there will soon be a new story in the Sahel. As you wish, the Americans will run into obstacles everywhere here—before I die, of course.”

"Don't worry, I will always maintain a one-way communication with you in the future. Only you and I will know about each other's existence and relationship."

Weber said very considerately, "We won't let you die. If you need help, contact me anytime."

After hanging up the phone, Song Heping returned to the open space and watched Jiang Feng register the prisoners. He then said to Ferrari beside him, "The Americans have set up a special task force specifically targeting me."

"Isn't this targeting all of us?" Ferrari asked.

Song Heping said with a wry smile, "They hate me the most."

CIA Headquarters, Langley
"North Darfur has changed dramatically overnight!"

Jasper slammed the intelligence report on the table.

"That madman Song Heping actually devoured both Hakim and Makul at the same time!"

He had a premonition of what would happen in the future.

North Darfur is an important region of the Sahel.

That place was originally a stepping stone for the Americans to expand their influence in Africa.

After all, wherever there is war, there is an opportunity for Americans.

Now Song Heping suddenly appeared there and rose rapidly. In less than a month, he defeated two of the major warlords in North Darfur. According to the map, the left and right flanks in front of Atron Oasis are the original territories of the "Liberation Front" and the "Justice and Peace" armed organizations, as well as gold mines.

Taking these two locations creates an inverted triangle area, which, in military terms, is a front triangle defensive formation—very stable. The Atron Oasis, located in the rear, is backed by the plateau, allowing for easy withdrawal, escape, and defense at any time.

If Song Heping was like a rootless river when he first entered North Darfur a month ago, now he is a well-established local tyrant.

Simon, standing nearby, remarked meaningfully, "It seems Song Heping's power has grown faster than you expected."

After saying that, he turned his gaze to Jasper, with a questioning look that seemed to say, "What are you planning to do?"

"I asked you to choose a suitable target. Have you chosen one? Who should you start with?"

Jasper looked at his deputy, still wary of Simon.

The special task force has begun its work, and its first task is to establish a target, which, according to the plan determined at the meeting, must be a close relative of one of the core members of the "Musician" company.

"she."

Simon placed a document in front of Jasper and tapped it with his finger.

Jasper looked at the document and reached out to open the first page.

A photo of a cute and pretty girl, about 5 years old, appeared in front of me.

"Who is this?"

"Ferrari's daughter."

Simon said with certainty, "Nothing is more suitable as a goal."

MI6 headquarters, London.

Ms. M looked at the report in her hand, a slight smile playing on her lips: "This Song Heping is more interesting than we imagined."

Weber stood to the side: "Should we try to win him over?"

“Of course.” Ms. M took a sip of her black tea. “If the Americans want to kill him, then he should be our friend. All along, out of consideration for our so-called alliance, we’ve always been dissatisfied with the Americans’ demands but haven’t dared to openly oppose them. But frankly, Weber, I’m quite fed up with those uncultured, nouveau riche bumpkins who wave the banner of counter-terrorism while actually squeezing our African interests. I think it’s time we gave them some trouble and made them back down from their posts in Africa.”

After a moment's hesitation, she returned to her desk, opened a drawer, and took out a document.

"Give this information to Song Heping. Remember to disinfect it so as not to leave any evidence. Tell him that if he helps us with this matter, MI6 will owe him a huge favor and will definitely repay it. In Africa, he can obtain any information that our intelligence network has obtained to ensure his safety."

(End of this chapter)