Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 952 The Elite National Defense Forces Miss Their Expectations
Two days later, at night.

The area near the mining area in the northern part of the Republic of Seine.

General Lumar was slumped in the heavy leather seat of the command vehicle, his eyes cautiously fixed on the outside.

Outside the car window, a steel torrent of tanks, armored vehicles, and armed pickup trucks rolled across the cracked earth of the Kaduna mining area, the dust they kicked up like a murky curtain, obscuring the dim sunset.

Six brigades of the Sena National Defence Force's elite troops—his sharpest sword—are deployed in a wedge-shaped battle formation.

The tracks of the T-72 tank crushed gravel into powder, while the diesel engine of the BMP-2 infantry fighting vehicle emitted a deep roar that made the windows tremble slightly.

Countless dark gun barrels were pointed at the silent mining area in the distance—a place that held the nation's wealth, but also concealed the "Musician" defense, a thorn in the side of him and President Touré.

"The intelligence is never wrong..."

Lumar repeatedly pondered the words in his mind, trying to suppress the unease that gnawed at his heart like a venomous snake.

Webb of MI6 personally showed him satellite images: the mine's fortifications were clearly reinforced, and there was frequent vehicle activity.

Ground sources also confirmed that the notorious outlaws of "Musician" Defense Company were holed up in that labyrinthine mine and sturdy prefabricated barracks.

President Touré's roar over the encrypted phone call still echoed in his ears: "Lumaar! Crush those rats out with steel and fire! Take back the mines! This is the lifeblood of the nation! And the guarantee of your position as commander-in-chief!"

"General!"

The adjutant's voice came through the vehicle's communicator, tinged with a barely perceptible hesitation, breaking the oppressive atmosphere inside the command vehicle: "Advance reconnaissance battalion reports... All pre-positioned sentry posts around the mining area... are empty. No signs of activity detected."

"empty?!"

Lumar's thick eyebrows instantly furrowed into a tight knot, and a chilling coldness crept up his spine.

He slammed the communication button, his voice filled with suppressed anger: "Continue the reconnaissance! Order the engineer platoon to advance and clear any booby traps! Armored company, provide fire support! Keep your eyes peeled!"

A few minutes of waiting felt like an eternity.

When the new report arrived, the air inside the command vehicle almost froze:

"Reporting, General! The main gate to the mine is wide open! No one is guarding it! The living quarters... are like a ghost town, completely deserted! There are no landmines here, it's safe... something's not right..."

"boom!"

Lumar slammed his powerful fist onto the alloy command platform, causing a coffee cup to jump and splashing brown liquid onto the battle map, which was precisely marked with attack arrows.

"Order all troops! Immediately seize all entrances and exits! First and Third Armored Battalions, advance and search every inch of the mine, every warehouse, and every barracks! Dig three feet into the ground and dig them out!"

He practically roared as he gave the order, the veins on his forehead throbbing.

"Impossible! How could thousands of people just vanish into thin air?!"

The massive war machine, filled with suspicion and a chilling atmosphere, cautiously rolled into the heart of the mining area.

The tank slammed open the rusted iron gate, making a piercing metallic clanging sound.

The infantry squad advanced in standard tactical formation, taking turns providing cover, their guns sweeping cautiously over every window and every corner.

However, the feedback information caused the temperature inside the command vehicle to drop to freezing point:
"No signs of human activity were found at the entrance of the No. 1 main mine shaft! The equipment inside the shaft is silent!"

"The canteen in the living quarters is filled with nothing but rotten food scraps and empty cans! Flies are swarming everywhere!"

"The equipment depot is empty! All heavy weapons are gone! Only a few excavators and some mining equipment remain..."

"The office area... all the computer mainframes are there, the files are there, but the people are gone..."

……

Dead silence.

Suffocating silence.

Only the dry desert wind howled through the broken window frame, as if mocking the army that had come with such murderous intent but had come up empty-handed.

There were no gunshots of resistance, no explosions, and not even a single living creature was found!

This mining area, once considered a den of dragons and tigers, is now nothing but abandoned ruins, like a silent yet resounding slap across Lumar's face.

"Lure the tiger away from the mountain!"

This thought, like a poisoned ice pick, instantly pierced Lumar's brain, bringing a wave of dizziness and a bone-chilling cold!
Cold sweat instantly soaked through his camouflage uniform.

"Damn it! We've been tricked!"

His eyes widened in horror, a tremendous fear gripping his heart—the capital, Butare!

That place must be extremely empty now!

Just as his roaring order, "Everyone turn around! Full speed ahead to reinforce Butare!" was about to escape his lips—

"General! Top priority urgent telegram! From the Capital Garrison Command!"

The communications officer's voice trembled uncontrollably, like the tolling of a death knell.

Lumar snatched the communicator, the voice coming through filled with apocalyptic terror and the static of despair: "General Lumar! Butare... Butare is under massive attack! Unidentified armed forces... in huge numbers! The whole city... the whole city is without power! Communications... have been cut off! The Presidential Palace... the Presidential Palace is under heavy attack! We can't contact the President... we can't contact anyone... Ah—!"

After a short scream, the communication was completely swallowed up by a piercing busy tone!

"Hello?! Speak up! How's Butare?! Hello!"

Lumar roared into the microphone, but only silence answered him.

Like a wounded, trapped beast, he frantically switched between all the backup encrypted channels:
"Third Armored Brigade! This is Headquarters! Respond immediately! Execute the emergency plan!"

"Air Force Command Center! Vulture Squadron! Take off immediately to support the capital!"

"First Garrison Regiment! Colonel Maxim! Report your position! Give me a response!"

again and again.

There was only a despairing electronic silence, or a shrill, demonic noise distorted by powerful interference.

All calls went unanswered.

Apart from its own six brigades, the other units deployed in various locations seemed to have fallen silent.

"How is this going……"

Lumar stood frozen in the center of the command vehicle, his tall body swaying slightly.

The cursor on the command screen reflected his pale face, and large beads of sweat slid down his temples.

A wave of overwhelming fear washed over him instantly.

He finally saw the truth of the matter—this was not a surprise attack, but a long-planned military coup!

The target is Butare, the heart of the nation!

He—the Commander-in-Chief of the National Defense Forces, who commanded a large army, and his six most elite brigades—were perfectly transferred away from the eye of the storm, becoming a "lone army" hundreds of kilometers away, beyond the reach of his command!
"Who is it?! Who on earth is it?!"

Lumar's eyes were bloodshot, and he let out a beast-like growl as he slammed his fist hard against the cold car wall.

Weber?

British?
No, it couldn't be them! They're still sharing intelligence!

They are their allies!

French?
They had no presence here at all. Ever since they and President Touré seized power in the last coup, the French had been politely escorted out of the country, leaving only some embassy consuls and staff...

Could it be the Isis family?

In Seine, only the Isis family still has the power to stage a coup.

But these guys simply don't have that kind of courage and skill!
Could it be...

A terrifying name flashed through his mind.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Butare.

Dusk, like thick ink, completely engulfed the vast abandoned rubber plantation.

The cloying, fishy smell of rotting rubber tree leaves, mixed with the scent of damp earth, weighed heavily on the lungs of thousands of hibernating survivors.

Their dark combat uniforms were covered with camouflage netting, and their faces were painted with black and green paint. Only their occasionally moving eyes, illuminated by the eerie green light of their night vision goggles, flashed with a cold, hard killing intent.

They are the fangs of "Musician" Defense, the sharpest knife in Song Heping's hand, and the defense company's most important asset—mercenaries.

Jiang Feng crouched in the shadow of the light armored command vehicle, its body covered by camouflage netting that blended seamlessly with the surrounding environment.

The head-mounted night vision device illuminates everything around it in a clear, eerie green world.

On the tactical tablet screen in front of him, the map of Butare city resembled a network of veins, with the blue dots representing the three main attack groups, A, B, and C, like the fangs of a viper, biting firmly at the throat of the three main camps of the suburban garrison.

"Hummingbird calls all groups for final communication verification. Group A, status?"

Jiang Feng's voice was as cold as ice in the encrypted channel.

"Team A received, signal clear. Target: 1st Garrison Battalion's barracks. Infrared thermal imaging confirmed, target area is brightly lit (backup power), personnel activity is frequent, and security is lax. Assault route has been locked."

The response was equally cold and precise.

"Team B, take your positions, target 2nd Battalion..."

"Team C, take your positions, target the 3rd Battalion..."

Each confirmation sound was like the crisp click of a bullet being chambered.

Jiang Feng took a deep breath of the air, which was filled with a rotten, sweet smell, and the cold oxygen stimulated his nerve endings.

He raised his night vision goggles and looked out at the sparse lights of Butare in the distance, lights that symbolized a fragile order.

Tonight, my mission is to crush this last obstructive iron gate on the outskirts of the capital, paving the way for the main force to reach the core of power in a bloody manner.

At this time, in the city.

Just one alley away from the back wall of the British Consulate, a dilapidated van covered in dried mud was inconspicuously parked on the side of the road.

Inside the carriage, however, was a miniature electronic warfare fortress, filled with top-of-the-line US military-grade listening and jamming equipment.

The pale blue light from the screen illuminated Collins' focused yet slightly tired face.

This second-generation German-Chinese with two master's degrees was now typing away on the keyboard, as if playing a silent death symphony.

The headphones were pressed tightly against his ears, filtering out useless noise and capturing only specific frequencies.

"Target 'Carrier Pigeon' (the consulate's internal encrypted channel) has been locked... Attempting to crack the third-layer dynamic key... Penetration rate 65%... 80%... Crack successful!"

The other technicians' suppressed excitement could be heard through the headset.

"Keep quiet, I need a core conversation."

Collins' voice was barely audible.

The air inside the carriage seemed to freeze, with only the hum of the server fans and the hiss of electricity.

Disguised as date merchants, they entered the city in the morning and stopped at this secluded location to begin their listening mission. This "Nightingale" truck was a bug planted right next to the enemy's heart.

The static noise was filtered out of the headphones, and the conversation inside the consulate could be heard clearly:

"...Yes, Mr. Weber, General Lumar is almost at the northern mining area...that's right...the operation will begin tonight...without Song Heping, his men are no match for the most elite armored forces of the Sena National Defense Army...Butare? As calm as a weekend country club...okay, I'll be there at the slightest sign of trouble..."

Collins's lips curled into a cold, almost cruel smile.

"Arrogant John Bull, even on his deathbed, was still laughing at others by the campfire..."

With a tap of his finger, an encrypted message was instantly sent: "Target confirmed, asleep. 'Nightingale' is ready and can sing at any time."

Deep in the city, in an inconspicuous underground room of an apartment building.

The large electronic screen wall emitted a cold light, illuminating the room like the command center of a sci-fi warship.

On the real-time updated city map, blue dots representing one's own forces twinkle like stars.

Henry's eyes were sharp as an eagle's, quickly processing the flood of information coming his way.

"Hummingbird report: The anvil is in place in the suburbs, ready to be unleashed."

"Nightingale reports: The target nest is undetected; 'silence' can be executed."

"Hunter report: The outer perimeter of the mouthpiece (broadcast center) is under control, and the blade is ready to be drawn at any time."

"Klein Report: Grid hub node locked, scalpel ready."

Each concise report represents a deadly force about to erupt.

Henry nodded slightly, his gaze fixed on the rock-solid figure in the center of the command room.

Song sat calmly in the shadows, his lean body wrapped in an unmarked camouflage combat uniform.

His eyes were slightly closed, as if an old monk had entered meditation.

There was no pre-battle anxiety, no excitement of a power shift, only a deep, still calm.

When Henry's gaze fell on him, Song Heping slowly opened his eyes.

"time?"

The voice was calm and even, yet it carried immense power.

"21:00 sharp, boss."

Ferrari looked at the last number ticking on the atomic clock, his voice steady.

Song Heping's gaze slowly swept across the flickering lights on the screen wall, and across every face in the command center that was tense with anticipation.

"action."

Two words, as light as a sigh, yet they tolled the death knell for the Touré government.

(End of this chapter)