Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 976

The first meeting ended in a somber atmosphere.

After dinner, Haftar arranged for them to rest in a relatively intact two-story building near the command post.

Night fell as dark as ink on the desert city, and the daytime hustle and bustle was replaced by a tense, deathly silence.

The sporadic gunshots and explosions in the distance, like the groans of a dying beast, further highlighted the fragility of this isolated city.

The power supply was intermittent, and the dim emergency lights cast flickering shadows on the walls.

Song Heping was wide awake.

The heavy despair in Haftar's eyes during the day, the shocking red arrows on the map, and the hunter's cold cost-effectiveness analysis kept swirling in his mind.

He needed some space, some quiet time, to sort out this almost unsolvable game.

He paced silently through this temporary dwelling, alone, like a lone wolf patrolling its territory.

The corridor was deep and dark, and the walls were cold.

He walked past a series of tightly closed doors, from which came the hushed conversations of his mercenaries or their heavy snoring.

He stopped in front of a half-open door near the corner of the stairs.

A sliver of dim light shone through the crack in the door, accompanied by the soft rustling of papers turning.

Is someone looking through documents this late?
Intelligence room?
As if by some strange twist of fate, Song Heping gently pushed open the door.

The room was small, with an old wooden desk by the window, and an old-fashioned kerosene lamp burning on the desk, its glass shade yellowed from smoke.

A camouflage jacket was draped over the chair.

Song Heping recognized the military rank on the document; it belonged to Haftar.

But it seems he's not inside the house right now.

What caught Song Heping's eye was a book lying open on the desk. In the flickering, dim light, the book's cover was dark blue, printed with striking Arabic script.

Song Heping's pupils suddenly contracted—he had a strong intuition about the unique font layout and the length of the title.

He approached slowly, his steps as light as a cat's.

The glow of the kerosene lamp illuminated the pages of the book.

After seeing the words above, Song Heping's eyebrows twitched.

He recognized it as Arabic.

Because I've spent many years in the Middle East, I've also learned some Arabic.

That's right!

It's Arabic!
The title of the book came into view clearly: On Protracted War.

I go!

There's even such a translation?!
Song Heping's heart skipped a beat, as if struck by a heavy hammer.

In this desert city ravaged by war, where civilization has been almost blown back to the Stone Age, you would find this book on the desk of an old Arab general regarded as a "warlord" by the Western world.

The impact of this stark contrast far surpasses that of a thousand troops.

He couldn't help but reach out, his fingertips trembling slightly, and gently brushed against the rough cover.

The book had clearly been read countless times, with its edges and corners badly worn.

He carefully turned the title page.

The paper was yellowed, and besides the printed Arabic text, there was a line of handwritten annotations in blue ink. The ink had long since dried, but the handwriting was strong and powerful.

Song Heping's gaze was fixed on the line of Arabic script.

The daytime clamor—Haftar's angry accusations, his desperate gasps, and the hunter's cold "cost-effectiveness" analysis, the suffocating red arrows on the map—all receded like a tide. Only this line remained, gleaming with a wisdom that transcended time and pierced through the fog under the dim lamplight.

Almost subconsciously, he read aloud the annotation on the title page in a low, clear Arabic: "If people are saved but land is lost, both people and land will be saved..."

The words have not yet been spoken!

A deep, hoarse voice, filled with disbelief, astonishment, and a strange resonance, suddenly rang out from the doorway:
"If we retain the land but lose the people, we will lose both the land and the people?"

Song Heping suddenly turned around!
Haftar was already standing at the door at some point; he had clearly heard Song Heping read out those words.

His face, etched with worry and exhaustion, was now a mixture of extreme shock and an almost pilgrimage-like excitement.

His eyes were fixed on Song Heping, then suddenly turned to the open book on the table, as if he were seeing this mercenary leader from the East for the first time.

You know this book?

Haftar stared intently at Song Heping. "This is... a friend gave it to me when I was in exile in Egypt after I opposed Colonel Gaddafi's arrest. He said it was a military command from the East, an inextinguishable flame against powerful invaders! In those darkest days, and now... in this suffocating despair, it has repeatedly told me that as long as people are alive, as long as the will remains, the land... will one day be reclaimed!"

At this point, a bitter smile appeared on his lips.

"'Preserving people but losing territory, both people and territory can be preserved'... We abandon some peripheral strongholds, consolidate our forces, and preserve our manpower... precisely to avoid 'preserving territory but losing people, and thus losing both!' But... but..."

He suddenly looked up at the pitch-black night sky outside the window; the boundless darkness seemed to symbolize the despair of the GNA army pressing in.

"I still haven't fully grasped the secrets of this book, and now I've gotten myself into this desperate situation..."

His final words were filled with resentment and sorrow.

Song Heping listened quietly without interrupting the other party.

The genuine excitement in Haftar's eyes, his identification with and thirst for the ideas in the book, and his will to struggle for a glimmer of hope even in dire straits, struck like a powerful electric current, instantly shattering the last trace of hesitation in Song Heping's heart regarding "cost-effectiveness."

A person who can study "On Protracted War" during years of exile, understand the essence of "preserving people but losing territory," and still try to apply it in such dire circumstances, has a resilience and potential that is far beyond those of local warlords who only care about the oil wells in front of them!

The spirit of this armed force remains!
What it needs is exactly the "power" that "Musician" defense can provide!
It may only need one opportunity.

Just as the light gathered in Song Heping's eyes, and he made his decision—

"boom--!!!"

A deafening explosion ripped through the deathly silence of the desert city's night sky without warning!
The explosion point was extremely close to the small building, and the terrifying shockwave was like an invisible giant hammer, slamming hard against the wall!

The entire building shook violently, and dust and debris from the roof and walls poured down like a torrential rain!

The kerosene lamp on the table was suddenly overturned, the glass shade shattered, and the light went out instantly! The room was plunged into darkness!
"Enemy attack!!"

A thunderous roar, like a calamity, suddenly erupted from outside the corridor: "Southeast! RPG! All personnel, take your positions!!"

Immediately afterwards, a dense and precise burst of automatic rifle fire rang out like popping beans!

It's not the kind of spray-and-pour fire commonly used by LNA soldiers with AK-47s, but rather extremely professional, rhythmic, and deadly short bursts!
The bullets whistled through the window, hitting the walls and furniture inside with muffled thuds and sending sparks flying!

"These are not ordinary militants; they are special forces!"

Amid the aftershocks of the explosion and the choking smoke, Song Heping's eyes instantly turned as cold as polar ice.

Haftar was also thrown off balance by the massive shockwave of the explosion, but he reacted quickly, roaring "Take cover!" and lunging toward the wall, grabbing an AKMSU short assault rifle leaning against a bookshelf.

Outside the window, in the flash of the explosion and the towering flames of a burning house, several dark figures could be seen rapidly advancing from the low ruins on the southeast side in an extremely agile, mutually covering tactical formation!
Their movements were clean and efficient, their teamwork was excellent, they were equipped with rifles fitted with silencers and advanced optical sights, wore dark combat uniforms suitable for night operations, and their faces were covered with camouflage paint.

This was classic SBS (Special Boat Service) tactics! Their objective was crystal clear—to head straight for the building where Song Heping was!

The MI6 assassination attempt was launched the very moment Song Heping made his final decision!

The fact that they could infiltrate the city unnoticed and launch a surprise attack from their own lodgings shows that Desert City has been thoroughly infiltrated!
More seriously, elite special forces like the SBS would never rashly enter a heavily guarded enemy town to launch a raid without being certain of success.

Desert City is no longer safe!

(End of this chapter)