Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 871 Entering Nasser
Two days later, as the Sahara's warm winds replaced Moscow's bitter cold, Song Heping stood atop a watchtower in the Akent Oasis, observing the base, which had doubled in size, through binoculars.

The once rudimentary camp is now surrounded by reinforced concrete walls, with sniper towers at the four corners, and even two modified Mi-24 helicopters parked on the helipad.

"Looks like the polar bear hasn't been idle while we were away," Ferrari whistled.

The polar bear's voice came from behind: "Welcome home, boss."

The two-meter-tall former Russian special forces soldier grinned, revealing a set of white teeth. "Darfur now goes by the surname Song."

The command post's battle map confirmed White Bear's words.

This guy wasn't bragging.

Green markings representing the “Musicians” defense control zone have covered the entire Darfur region and even crossed the border into the disputed territory of neighboring Libya.

"Colonel Gaddafi is too busy taking care of himself."

A satellite image of a polar bear pinning a dagger to the capital of Lebanon.

"Those scum he sponsored have either surrendered or fled into the desert to become bandits. When we led our men to attack, these guys ran faster than rabbits. You wouldn't believe it, I myself feel like I'm dreaming, taking so much territory for free, and with zero casualties."

"Well done," Song Heping praised. "It seems that you and Hunter are capable enough to serve as branch managers in a region. Once the business here stabilizes, you two will be in charge of African affairs, and Gray Wolf will be in charge of the arms business and military training in South America."

"What about the business in Mexico?" Henry said. "I recently received some information from there. Apparently, that shorty seems to be getting restless. You haven't been back for over a year, so I guess he has some new ideas."

“He’s easy to deal with, let him do whatever he wants.” Song Heping said, “Our immediate priority is not South America. If he really wants to cause trouble, then let him do it. We’ll go back and deal with him later. This way, we can make an example of him and deter the other major families. I estimate that no one will have any ulterior motives for the next ten or eight years.”

As we were talking, the satellite phone in my pocket vibrated.

Song Heping took out his phone and glanced at the message. It showed that MI6's intelligence network in Nasser was ready and Ms. M wanted him to go to Nasser as soon as possible to fulfill the contract.

After reading the message, he looked up at his subordinates who were awaiting instructions: "Rest for 24 hours. Then we will fulfill our contract with the British."

The following evening, a special operations platoon of thirty elite soldiers set off for the southern border in sand-painted trucks.

Song Heping sat in the passenger seat of the second car, repeatedly studying the detailed report on the current situation in Nasser provided by MI6 and several battle reports on recent clashes between government forces and anti-government armed groups.

One page, highlighted in red, was particularly striking: On January 17, the MLC, the largest anti-government armed group, ambushed a government supply convoy under the guidance of the US Army's Green Hat Squad, resulting in 47 deaths.

On February 3, with the assistance of the U.S. Green Hat Army, the MLC, together with several other anti-government armed groups, launched a multi-point offensive eastward, advancing a full 80 kilometers of front line in just one week...

"Look here." Song Heping pointed to the canyon on the operational map. "According to MI6 intelligence, every time the MLC successfully ambushed, there was unusual radio activity near these coordinates."

The hunter in the back frowned: "Command post? So ostentatious?"

“No, it’s arrogance,” Song Heping sneered. “The Americans think the Nasser government forces have no electromagnetic detection capabilities whatsoever, so of course they’re boldly using plaintext radio lines for command.”

He closed the file and said, "Inform Henry that I need the movement patterns of all MLC commanders, especially intelligence on their meetings with U.S. military advisors."

When the convoy crossed the border into Nasse, Lumar, the Nasse government representative who was there to meet it, had been waiting for a long time.

The thin former university professor now wears an ill-fitting military uniform, and his eyes behind his glasses are bloodshot.

“Thank God you’ve finally arrived.” Lumar’s palms were sweaty as he shook hands with Song Heping. “In the past two weeks, we’ve lost seven cities. If this continues, our capital will be captured in less than two weeks.”

“Don’t rush, Mr. Lumar,” Song Heping countered, “Have our equipment and weapons arrived?” “They’ve all arrived, two days ago. We’re just waiting for you to unseal them.” Lumar appeared extremely sincere, as respectful as a servant: “I didn’t dare open your containers myself; the French instructed me to…”

"Then take us to the warehouse to get weapons and equipment. I need to set up a temporary command post there immediately. You can select some logistics support personnel to be responsible for the duties of the command post and the border guard mission. I will take command of the specific combat missions. I will tell you when I need to transfer personnel from your army."

Song Heping didn't waste any time.

Since the situation is urgent, we should handle it promptly.

He didn't want to waste too much time in Nasse.

After all, North Africa and the Middle East are in complete chaos right now, and there are plenty of opportunities there.

Wherever there is war, it is a paradise for defense companies, especially since I am an arms dealer.

Taking advantage of this war and turmoil, the company's business is expected to expand rapidly again, making up for the losses caused by its complete collapse in Iligo.

Three hours later.

In the makeshift command post, Lumar unfolded a blood-stained map: "The MLC militants seized the columbite mine here yesterday and massacred over a hundred miners. They were extremely cruel; anyone working for the government who fell into their hands was either killed or maimed."

His finger trembled as he pointed to another marker. "And here, our scouts photographed this."

In the photo, five soldiers dressed in mixed uniforms are instructing MLC militants on how to use anti-tank missiles.

Although they had deliberately removed the insignia from their bodies, Song Heping was very familiar with the black G-Shock watch on one of their wrists—it was standard issue for U.S. special forces.

Then look at these people's weaponry and appearance—big beards, Salomon combat boots…

There are also the Mk 12 Mod 0 and Mk 12 Mod 1 assault rifles, which are equipped with Ops silencers and Leupold LR M3 optical sights.

"The Green Berets, Category A combat unit." Song Heping sent the photo to his team members. "It seems the Pentagon doesn't want to leave any written evidence."

Lumar nervously adjusted his glasses: "The most troublesome one is their commander, codenamed 'Bison,' an extremely experienced special operations officer. Rumor has it that he has carried out black operations in Afghanistan and Ilig.

Song Heping said to the hunter, "Contact Henry, I need the complete file on 'Bison'."

Then he turned to the special operations platoon and ordered: "The operation begins at four in the morning tomorrow. The target is not the MLC camp—"

His dagger was stuck in the wrist of the person wearing a watch in the photo.

"To catch the thief, first catch the leader. If we take down these green-hatted bastards, the rest of the rabble will collapse without a fight."

As night deepened, Song Heping inspected the equipment alone.

The Nokia phone the cook had given me suddenly vibrated, and an encrypted message flashed on the screen: I've headed to Syria and will arrive in 48 hours. The future is fraught with danger, but I hope we'll meet again alive, Song. You'll always be my brother.

He deleted the message and looked at the scattered firelight in the distant camp.

The dagger stuck in the picture gleamed coldly in the moonlight. Song Heping recalled the Russian proverb: "To drive away the wolves, you must nail the head of the alpha wolf to the fence."

(End of this chapter)