Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 960 The Game Between the Parties
African Union headquarters, Addis Ababa.

A tense and heated closed-door meeting has just ended.

The doors to the conference hall opened, and representatives from various countries filed out, their faces displaying a variety of expressions: some looked relieved, some frowned, and some showed obvious dissatisfaction and helplessness.

The air still seemed to carry the lingering smell of the heated exchange.

Ambassador Olusegun from Nigeria, who chairs the African Union Peace and Security Council (PSC), was one of the last to emerge.

He looked tired, but there was a hint of relaxation deep in his eyes. He strode towards his office, his secretary following closely behind.

"Mr. Chairman, the statement has been drafted in accordance with the final resolution of the meeting. Please review and sign it."

The secretary handed over a document.

Adebayor took the document, but didn't look at it immediately. Instead, he strode into his office, closed the door, and let out a long sigh of relief, as if a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders.

He walked to the window, gazed at the cityscape of Addis Ababa, and remained silent for a moment.

The secretary waited quietly.

"The pressure exerted by the British...and the Americans...is unprecedented..."

Adebayor did not turn around, his voice low, as if talking to himself, or as if speaking to his secretary, "They believe this is a 'coup' that must be corrected, demanding that the African Union fulfill its responsibility to maintain regional peace, and even implying... that failure to take action will affect future aid and cooperation."

He turned around, a complex expression on his face, a mixture of helplessness and a firm refusal: "Lumaar... he contacted representatives of several countries with which we have good relations, swearing that he is the only legitimate force of resistance, promising huge rewards once he 'sets things right'... even including mining rights to several key minerals."

He shook his head, his tone tinged with sarcasm, "The cries of a trapped beast always sound particularly alluring, and also particularly dangerous."

The secretary asked cautiously, "So... what is our final decision?"

Adebayor picked up the draft statement, his gaze falling on its core content, his eyes sharpening: "The African Union is not a tool of any great power, nor a gambling chip for disillusioned warlords! The situation in Senegal is extremely complex. The legitimacy of the Touré regime itself is questionable, and its failure to govern has led to widespread public discontent. ISIS, as the transitional government, has currently gained a certain degree of acceptance in the capital of Senegal and among the majority of its people… More importantly,"

He emphasized his words and tapped his finger on the statement.

"Besides, Song Heping is now supporting Isis, and that guy is no ordinary ruthless person. It's best not to provoke him. This mess was caused by the British and French, and they expect us to clean up their mess? Do they think I'm stupid just because I've never eaten Western bread?"

Adebayor seemed to see flashes of the cold descriptions of the raid on the presidential palace and the images of the bombardment of the spire in the intelligence briefing.

That swift and decisive style of work sent a chill down his spine.

"Rushing to deploy peacekeeping forces could very well lead to a direct conflict with this powerful, localized armed force!"

Adebayor's voice carried an undeniable determination: "That would not be peacekeeping, but playing with fire! It would drag the entire West Africa into an unpredictable proxy war! The AU cannot, and will never, take that risk!"

He picked up a pen and solemnly signed his name at the end of the statement.

"Publish immediately."

In a remote mountain area in the East, far from the city, deep within an unmarked building.

This is the nerve center of Special Forces 203.

The huge electronic display screen on the wall is divided into different areas, displaying real-time data and satellite images from around the world.

The air was filled with the low hum of efficiently operating machinery and a faint smell of ozone. The atmosphere was serious and focused.

An electronic intelligence briefing labeled "Top Secret/Seine Situation Assessment" was quietly displayed on the screen of a military laptop.

The briefing was incredibly detailed: from the tactical details of the "Musician's" defense raid on the presidential palace, the process of Touré's collapse and capture, the background analysis of Isis's rise to power, to the fierce power struggle between Britain, France, and the United States within the UN and the African Union, the current situation and predicament of the Lumar rebels, and even the key points of the secret meeting between the DGSE special envoy and Isis...

It was meticulous, like the eye of God watching over everything that happened in Seine.

The conclusion at the end of the briefing, marked in bold, stated: "The operation, led by Song Heping, nicknamed 'Ghost,' was tactically efficient and precise, and strategically successfully exploited the contradictions between Britain and France, temporarily thwarting the West's (especially Britain and the United States') attempts at direct military intervention."

The likelihood of the African Union sending troops is currently assessed as low.

The Lumar rebels in eastern Seine are isolated and on the verge of collapse; they are expected to be eliminated in the near future.

Sitting in front of the large control console, Lei Ming, the deputy commander of the 203rd Special Forces, stared intently at the briefing on the screen, especially the details of Song Heping's planned operation and the current international power dynamics.

As he watched, an uncontrollable smile, filled with intense surprise and a strange sense of pride, spread rapidly across his usually rock-hard lips, like a pebble thrown into a calm lake.

"Ah…"

A low, soft chuckle escaped his throat. The sound was particularly jarring in the quiet control room.

Chief Intelligence Analyst Lao Zhao, who was organizing data nearby, and Tactical Instructor "Bayonet" Liu, who was simulating combat plans on the sand table, both stopped what they were doing and looked up at Lei Ming in surprise.

In their memory, this captain, known for his calm and ruthless nature, almost never showed this kind of expression on his face, except for the grimness during missions and his usual composure…

His expression was almost one of "excitement and joy".

"Team Leader Lei?" Old Zhao called out tentatively, pushing up his glasses. "Looking at this Senna briefing, what... Coke is there?"

Lei Ming seemed to realize his lapse in composure only then. He suppressed his smile, but the light in his eyes remained undiminished.

He pointed to the section on the screen about Song Heping, then to the segments about the UN strife and the US warship patrol, his tone a mixture of disbelief, admiration, and amusement:
"Old Zhao, Old Liu, look at this! Take a good look at what this kid has done!"

He tapped the screen hard with his finger.

"Song Heping, you remember him, right? That quiet, unassuming guy in the training team back then, the one with the best tactical command and topography skills—who would have thought? Who would have thought?!" He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his smile widening, a mix of instructor's satisfaction at seeing his protégé succeed and a hint of mockery: "He transformed into the 'African Ghost' who stirred up trouble in West Africa. Single-handedly… no, with his gang of ruthless thugs, he managed to oust a country's president from the throne and install a new one! And that's not all!"

He pointed to the UN and the US warships patrolling, his tone shifting to a mocking, almost smug tone: "Look at him, he's really angered the British! Their special forces are already at the Darfur border, but they can't get in! Now the UN is in complete chaos, the French are jumping in to sabotage things, and the African Union is being torn apart! The CIA and MI6 have really taken a hit this time! Hahaha!"

Thunderous laughter echoed in the control room, carrying a sense of unbridled joy.

"That was awesome! That was fucking awesome! This kid's really grown up after being away for a few years! That move of using someone else's strength against them, snatching chestnuts from the fire, was brilliant! Even more brilliant than his infiltration mission back in the 'Snowy Region'!"

The "snowy region" he mentioned was the code name for a highly confidential overseas operation conducted by the training team years ago.

Old Zhao and "Bayonet" Liu looked at each other, both somewhat bewildered by Lei Ming's unusually excited state.

But looking at the familiar name (Song Heping) on ​​the briefing and the storm he had stirred up in Seine, combined with Lei Ming's words, shock and a hint of understanding gradually appeared in the eyes of the two.

"Is...is it this kid?"

Old Zhao adjusted his glasses and carefully looked at the vague description and analysis of the "ghost's" behavior style in the briefing. The more he looked, the more it matched. Finally, his gaze fell on the photo.

"Good heavens...it really is him! This kid...he really caused such a commotion? He even fooled the CIA and MI6?"

"Bayonet" Liu Ze stared at the tactical debriefing of the raid on the Presidential Palace in the briefing, his eyes gleaming: "Captain, this tactic... clean and efficient, straight to the heart, leaving no room for retreat... it's him! That ruthlessness and calculation, there's no mistake! Bombing the Presidential Palace spire... that style, that's powerful!"

"That's right! It's him! He was a great help in the operation in Southeast Asia last time."

Lei Ming slammed his hand on the table, his face full of admiration. "This kid didn't let our 203 down! He not only made a name for himself by risking his life over there, but he also gave those arrogant Western intelligence agencies a good thrashing! That's satisfying!"

The atmosphere in the control room lightened considerably because of Lei Ming's excitement. Old Zhao and "Bayonet" Liu also smiled, showing their recognition of their former comrade's valiant achievements and a sense of pride.

However, Lei Ming's smile did not last long.

The hearty laughter gradually subsided, and his sharp eyes refocused on the screen, scanning the map of Sena, the desperate struggle of the Lumar rebels, and the ongoing diplomatic maneuvering between Britain, France, and the United States, finally settling on the assessment that "the possibility of the African Union sending troops is low."

The relaxed and playful expression receded like the tide, replaced by a deeper and calmer contemplation.

His fingers tapped the table unconsciously, making a rhythmic, soft sound.

"It felt great..."

Lei Ming spoke slowly, his voice regaining its usual composure, even carrying a hint of solemnity, "But this kid is now sitting on the edge of a volcano."

He pointed to the map of Sena on the screen: "Tour has fallen, and Isis has taken over. On the surface, it seems like a victory. But will the British let this go after suffering such a huge setback? The AU's decision not to send troops now doesn't mean they won't change their minds later. The French are supporting him now for their own benefit; they'll turn on him faster than flipping a book if they run out of his services or if Isis becomes disobedient. And then there's Lumar, a cornered beast fighting desperately, still holding onto several brigades. If pushed too far, he's capable of anything."

He paused, his gaze turning extremely serious: "He's like a leopard that has just hunted its prey, surrounded by hyenas and vultures eyeing it covetously. His domestic foundation is unstable, and he's surrounded by powerful enemies. If he's not careful, everything he's gained now could vanish in the blink of an eye, and he himself could be dragged down with him."

The smiles on Lao Zhao's and "Bayonet" Liu's faces also disappeared, and they nodded solemnly.

They understood what the thunder meant.

In the world of mercenaries, it's always a dance on the edge of a knife; there are no permanent allies, only permanent interests.

Song Heping has gone too far this time, placing himself under the spotlight of the entire Western intelligence system and international politics, becoming the eye of the storm.

"Captain, what do you mean...?" Old Zhao asked tentatively.

Lei Ming did not answer immediately.

He remained silent for a few seconds, his eyes sharp as knives, as if piercing through the screen to see that familiar figure strategizing amidst the ruins of the Presidential Palace in Seine.

He stood up abruptly, his voice resolute:
"This kid helped us before, and he's one of the soldiers we trained. He fought bravely and made those arrogant guys lose face, which made us look good! Now he's in a dangerous situation, and we can't just stand by and watch!"

He turned to Lao Zhao, speaking rapidly: "Lao Zhao, immediately! With the highest priority, integrate all the intelligence we have on hand regarding the situation in Sena, especially the possible follow-up actions of the UK and the US, the key points of contention within the African Union, the true intentions of the French DGSE, and a detailed assessment of the combat capabilities and psychological state of the Lumar rebels! Form a strategic situation analysis report! It needs to be fast! It needs to be accurate! It needs to be in-depth!"

"understand!"

Old Zhao's expression hardened, and he immediately sat back down in front of the terminal, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

Lei Ming then looked at "Bayonet" Liu: "Old Liu, from a tactical perspective, simulate and analyze several possibilities: If the UK and the US bypass the UN and launch a 'volunteer army' or provide large-scale military aid to Lumar, how should we... or rather, how should the new Sena government respond? If the pro-Western faction within the AU pushes for military intervention, how should we divide and weaken them? If Lumar, in desperation, launches a large-scale counterattack or terrorist attack, where are the key points of defense? Make sure the contingency plans are solid!"

"Yes! Captain!"

"Bayonet" Liu immediately turned around and lunged at the sand table and simulation system next to him.

Lei Ming's last gaze returned to the central screen, settling on the name "Song Heping/Ghost".

“It’s time to use our influence over there.” He picked up the intercom, his voice deep and forceful: “Connect me to ‘Wind Tunnel’ (the intelligence analysis department directly under the highest decision-making level)! Top secret line!”

Joke time is over.

The former elite soldier who once stirred up trouble overseas is now deeply mired in a crisis.

Unit 203, his former home unit, certainly couldn't and wouldn't stand idly by.

A report based on the most professional and ruthless analysis is rapidly taking shape and will soon be sent through the most secretive channels to the place that can determine the course of the game.

This was not a direct military intervention, but a beam of light piercing through the fog, a strategic "assistance" based on national interests and camaraderie.

The will of the East, like an undercurrent beneath the deep sea, began to quietly surge.

(End of this chapter)