Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 908 Pressing forward step by step

The ambulance sirens sounded particularly jarring in the darkness of Alexandria.

Looking out the car window at the flashing port lights in the distance, Song Heping unconsciously tapped the assault rifle resting on his lap.

“Ten more minutes to Pier Seven,” Utkin’s voice came from the bridge. “The Artemis freighter should be waiting there.”

Jiang Feng looked up upon hearing this: "Are you sure this ship is reliable? Haven't your GRU agents infiltrated it?"

“The boat captain is Syrian; he owes me a life,” Utkin sneered. “If he dares to try anything funny, I’ll throw him into the Mediterranean to feed the fish.”

Song Heping did not participate in the conversation; his attention was drawn to a black sedan that had been following him in the rearview mirror.

The car maintained a perfect distance, neither losing sight of it nor attracting too much attention.

"We're being watched."

Song Heping suddenly spoke, and the atmosphere in the carriage instantly became tense.

Utkin glanced in the rearview mirror and cursed, "Those GRU bastards are really persistent."

Jiang Feng joked, "You used to be a GRU member, didn't you?"

"It's my turn to drive."

Song Heping unbuckled his seatbelt and squeezed through the gap between the passenger seat and the driver's seat. Utkin did not object, and the two completed the position exchange while speeding along.

Song Heping slammed the accelerator to the floor, and the ambulance engine roared in pain as the speedometer needle rapidly veered to the right.

He jerked the steering wheel, and the ambulance made a sharp turn into a narrow alley, its tires screeching as they rubbed against the pavement.

"Everyone, hold on tight!"

Song Heping warned, while simultaneously drawing a pistol from his waist and rolling down the car window with one hand.

The black sedan followed closely behind and sped into the alley.

Without hesitation, Song Heping raised his hand and fired three shots.

The first bullet shattered the windshield, the second hit the driver's shoulder, and the third accurately struck the right front wheel.

The car lost control and crashed into a pile of cargo boxes on the side of the road, making a loud noise.

"Beautiful!" Jiang Feng couldn't help but cheer.

Song Heping remained vigilant: "They'll receive reinforcements soon. Utkin, call the captain and tell him to prepare to set sail immediately."

As Pier 7 came into view, Song Heping turned off the siren and headlights, and the ambulance slid into the pier area like a ghost.

A rusty cargo ship was moored at the outermost berth, the letters "Artemis" on its hull barely visible in the dim light.

“That’s the one,” Utkin pointed to the cargo ship. “There are loading docks on the aft deck; you can drive right up.”

After scanning the dock and confirming there were no ambushes, Song Heping drove the ambulance toward the cargo ship.

At the stern, a middle-aged man with a full beard stood at the loading dock, waving anxiously and signaling them to hurry up and board the ship.

As the ambulance sped onto the gangplank, Song Heping heard sirens in the distance. He glanced one last time in his rearview mirror and saw several black SUVs speeding toward the dock.

"Set sail! Set sail immediately!" Utkin jumped out of the car and yelled at the boatman.

The cargo ship's engines roared, and the ship began to move slowly.

Song Heping stood on the deck, watching the black SUVs screech to a halt at the dock. Several men in black jumped out of the cars, but it was too late—the Artemis had already sailed away from the shore and was gradually accelerating toward the depths of the Mediterranean.

"Are we safe?" Jiang Feng asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Song Heping shook his head: "We're not safe until we reach Celia."

The captain came over and handed each person a dirty towel: "There's food and water in the cargo hold downstairs, as well as a few makeshift beds. The voyage will take two days, so the facilities on my ship aren't as luxurious as some others. Please make do."

Song Heping took the towel, wiped his face, and sized up the Syrian man: "Do you have other crew members on your ship?"

“Nine more,” the captain replied. “Don’t let my shabby boat fool you; my crew consists of my old buddies, people you can trust.”

“I hope so,” Song Heping said meaningfully, “otherwise, there will be a few more floating corpses in the Mediterranean.”

That night, Song Heping barely slept. He took turns checking every corner of the cargo ship to make sure there was nothing suspicious.

He had to be cautious.

No one is safe until they reach the open road in Silia.

Let alone Zhao Yigu, even if he leaked the information to an intelligence organization like the CIA, he would be in danger.

At that moment, he thought of Simon. That guy must be riding high right now; he just wondered when he'd become the deputy director.

It seems I should send him a message when I have some free time to remind him not to get carried away, as I still have leverage over him.

The following evening, as the setting sun dyed the Mediterranean Sea blood red.

The past twenty hours have gone smoothly without any problems.

Song Heping stood at the stern, gazing northeast.

That place is Celia.

It was also a place of war.

The world's attention has been focused here recently.

However, no one cares about the lives of ordinary people on that land.

All they see is geopolitics and interests.

“What are you thinking about?”

Utkin walked over and handed him a bottle of vodka.

Song Heping took the bottle, took a big gulp, and felt the burning sensation travel down his throat to his stomach: "Look, how beautiful the sunset over the sea is."

The setting sun dyed the Mediterranean Sea a blood red, and the deck of the cargo ship "Artemis" was bathed in a golden-red light.

Song Heping leaned against the rusty railing, the vodka bottle in his hand reflecting the afterglow of the setting sun.

“If the cook hadn’t been a mercenary, he might have been a big boss in the restaurant business.” Song Heping’s gaze followed a seagull in the distance. “If you hadn’t gone into this line of work, what might you have been doing?”

Utkin was taken aback, clearly not expecting Song Heping to ask such a question.

He took the bottle and gulped down a large mouthful, his Adam's apple bobbing: "My father is a physics professor at Moscow University."

He gazed into the distance, his voice low and deep, "If things had followed the normal trajectory, I should be in a laboratory tinkering with a particle collider right now."

Song Heping chuckled softly, "It's hard to imagine you wearing a white coat."

"And you?" Utkin countered. "Chinese special forces soldiers should normally have many options after retiring."

Song Heping was silent for a moment, the sea breeze ruffling his short hair: "If I hadn't joined the army, I'd probably be back in my hometown, toiling in the fields every day, marrying a local girl, having a child, and enjoying a warm home with a wife and kids."

His fingers unconsciously rubbed the pistol at his waist.

"Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and can still smell the aroma of tea."

The two fell silent, with only the sound of waves crashing against the hull of the boat.

“People like us…” Utkin suddenly spoke, his tone turning somber, “are destined never to go back, are we?”

Song Heping did not answer immediately.

He watched the setting sun gradually sink into the sea, its blood-red light reminding him of the time when he and Ah Guan were delivering goods and encountered an IED attack on the way.

It was during that time that I met the cook by chance, and it was also during that time that I became a mercenary because I had nowhere else to turn.

It all feels like yesterday.

Everything seems so far away.

"Maybe," he finally said softly. "My hands are covered in too much blood; even if I go back, I won't be able to wash them clean."

Utkin suddenly laughed, a bitter laugh: "You know what? I was terrified of the dark when I was a child. Now, however, I'm used to killing in the dark."

"I was afraid of heights when I was a kid," Song Heping chimed in. "Now I can fire a gun while rappelling down from a helicopter."

The two exchanged a smile, a tacit understanding that only those who have experienced life and death can comprehend.

“Seriously,” Utkin’s expression suddenly turned serious, “what do you plan to do once you get to Celia? Zhaoyi Valley won’t let you off easily.”

Song Heping's eyes sharpened: "Too many people want me dead."

Then he couldn't help but laugh out loud: "But so far, none of them have gotten what they wanted."

A series of hurried footsteps interrupted their conversation.

Jiang Feng rushed over: "The captain said we'd arrive at Latakia port in two hours. But we received a warning on the radio that security at the port has suddenly been tightened, and a large number of Russian marines have appeared."

Utkin frowned: "Summoning Valley has begun its operation."

(End of this chapter)