Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 940 "Earthquake"

Later that day, undercurrents were running high in the global intelligence community.

The fierce battles in Deir ez-Zor, Asara, and Gelby Hill were like a huge stone thrown into a calm lake, creating waves.

MI6 headquarters, London.

The delicate bone china cup in Ms. M's hand hovered in mid-air, the black tea inside already cold. On the screen, encrypted briefings of the successful counterattack by the Deir ez-Zor defenders and a report of the town of Asara being captured by unidentified mercenaries (analysis points to Vakna) were displayed side by side.

The small window next to it shows a satellite image of the eastern foothills of Gelby Mountain—an area scorched black by thermobaric bombs, resembling a huge scar.

"One person... a mercenary group... a lone city..."

M muttered to himself, his fingertips unconsciously tapping the table.

"Song Heping... are you dead, or did you crawl out of hell again and orchestrate all of this?"

The doubts in her heart did not dissipate, but instead grew even stronger.

The white dot of light from that final leap on Gelby Hill haunted her mind like a ghost, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake it off.

After much deliberation, she finally picked up the encrypted phone: "Activate our 'mole' in the CIA. I need to know all the call logs and pilot sighting reports from within the CAOC (Air Operations Center) regarding Operation 'Death's Judgment,' especially... the final destination of that white dot."

After hanging up the phone, Ms. M looked out the window and fell into deep thought.

Live to see people, die to see corpses.

Otherwise, the ghost of Song Heping will never disappear.

Moscow, Kremlin.

President Vladimir sat at one end of the Oval Office, flipping through a newly delivered intelligence report, his face expressionless.

Meanwhile, Zhao Yigu, who was sitting not far away, had cold sweat beading on his forehead.

"Sergei...didn't you say the cook had already died in Asara Town?"

His hands, which were flipping through the documents, stopped, and his gaze, like two sharp knives, pierced towards Zhao Yigu.

Shoigu's forehead broke out in a cold sweat, but he still forced himself to remain calm and said, "That's exactly what the intelligence personnel from Celia reported earlier. Their assessment..."

"An assessment?!" The president's gaze sharpened further. "When did our intelligence agencies become so careless?"

He threw the report over, and it slid down to Zhao Yigu's feet.

"Then tell me, why did the cook come back to life?"

Zhao Yigu swallowed hard and said, "A miracle, I have to admit it's a miracle. To be besieged for so many days and subjected to terrorist attacks by American warplanes... it can only be called a miracle..."

The president stared at Zhao Yigu for a long time without saying a word.

Both of them were mentally calculating the various possibilities and the gains and losses.

Finally, the president sighed slightly and said, "Alright, now that we know the person is still alive, we have to bring them back safely. The cook is a hero now, do you understand what I mean?"

Zhao Yigu nodded: "Understood."

He knew very well that the president was warning him: stop using underhanded tactics, and don't think I don't know about your dirty tricks!

"Furthermore," the president said after standing up, "after assessing the current situation in the Silia war, I think it's necessary to intervene, and it's about time. A few hundred Wakna and one Song Heping can handle several thousand 1515 armed personnel. What are our special forces doing there? Just watching the Americans and Europeans squeeze out our strategic interests?"

Zhao Yigu could only nod again: "Yes, I'll take care of it right away."

Finally, the president, still seemingly uneasy, added, "Send the cook to Moscow, here—"

He tapped the table. "I want to see him in person."

"Yes."

Zhao Yigu had lost count of how many times he had nodded.

In front of the president, he behaved as obediently as a primary school student.

Paris, DGSE (French Directorate General for External Security).

Analysts are working hard to compare satellite images and signals intelligence.

"The bombing of Mount Gelby was far more extensive than expected, thermobaric bombs... Have the Americans gone mad? Just to kill one person?"

"No, look at the results! Deir ez-Zor has been relieved! Asara Town has fallen! 1515's main force in the east has been almost completely wiped out! This game... was played too big! Was that bait worth the price?"

The office was filled with shocked and bewildered discussions.

Washington, D.C., White House, Oval Office.

The atmosphere was so oppressive that one could hardly breathe.

The president, his face ashen, slammed an urgent briefing from the Department of Defense and the CIA onto the mahogany table with a loud bang.

Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights were just coming on, but they couldn't illuminate the gloom inside the room.

"Vincent!"

The president's voice was deep and imposing.

"You'd better give me a perfect explanation! Why was our strategic balance in eastern Syria completely shattered overnight?! Why was the southward advance of the Kold forces blocked?! Why did the Russian-backed Assam suddenly launch a successful counter-offensive?! And what happened to that scorched earth of Mount Gelby?! Indiscriminate cluster bombing?! Even when dealing with terrorists, that's an easy way to give them leverage! I need answers! Now!"

Vincent stood in front of his desk, his back ramrod straight, but the fine beads of sweat at his temples betrayed the immense pressure he was under.

He took a deep breath to keep his composure and replied in the most formulaic yet powerful voice, "Mr. President, all of this is to carry out the 'decapitation' operation that you personally approved—to eliminate an extremely dangerous target, codenamed 'Ghost,' Song Heping."

He pointed to a satellite image of Mount Galeby on the briefing, his fingertip steady: "We have solid intelligence that Song Heping is trapped in this desperate situation by thousands of the 1515 main force. He possesses core secrets that could threaten our national security, and the consequences would be unimaginable if he were captured or if the information were leaked."

"At the same time, this is also an excellent opportunity to completely cripple the core armed forces of 1515. After the CAOC assessment, I authorized the use of the highest authority to execute 'Death's Judgment.' The price..."

He paused slightly, his tone heavy but leaving no room for doubt.

"The price was necessary and worthwhile. Song Heping has been confirmed to have been killed in the bombing. As for the changes in the battle situation in Deir ez-Zor and Asara, it was entirely a treacherous scheme laid by Song Heping before his death, taking advantage of the chaos caused by our operation. But the core objective—eliminating the 'Ghost'—has been achieved! The temporary setback of the Kold's forces is only a minor tactical setback. Compared to eliminating a major threat, I think the price is acceptable."

He shifted all the blame and "necessary sacrifices" onto the "dead" Song Heping, portraying himself as a hero who decisively eliminated the threat.

The president's sharp gaze, like a scalpel, scrutinized Vincent.

The office was silent, save for the soft ticking of the antique clock on the wall.

After a long silence, the president finally spoke, his voice devoid of emotion: "'Ghost' is really dead? Vincent, you'd better be sure. And clean up this mess! I don't want to see the headline 'US military uses prohibited weapons to carry out a massacre' on the front page of the New York Times tomorrow! Understand?"

"Understood, Mr. President! Subsequent media control and intelligence cover-up efforts are already underway, you can rest assured about that."

Vincent answered decisively, but secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

We've passed this hurdle for now.

But the white spot that disappeared from Song Heping's heart became a thorn that could not be removed.

Is that guy really dead?
An irrepressible thought flashed through my mind.

(End of this chapter)