Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 979 Operation "Severing the Throat"

At the critical moment, perhaps it really was a divine intervention; just before the trigger was pulled, a mortar shell exploded more than 20 meters to the left of the group.

boom--

A fireball rose.

"Bombardment!"

As Song Heping issued the warning, he lay down as quickly as possible.

The others also dropped to the ground in a flash.

For every shell fired, there will be two.

Running away might lead to an even faster death.

The wisest choice would be to lie down, use the ruins and building debris to dodge a round of shelling, and then run away.

Just as everyone lay down behind the rubble,

puff-

A high-speed spinning sniper bullet, carrying terrifying kinetic energy, struck a concrete pillar more than two meters away, bounced back, and after bouncing at a tricky angle, brutally tore through the muscles on the outside of the hunter's left arm and his camouflage combat uniform.

A blinding spray of blood mixed with tattered fabric fibers burst open.

"Uh!"

A muffled groan escaped from beneath the hunter's helmet.

But the hunter's right hand remained as steady as steel welded to the gun.

"There are snipers!"

As a sniper, he knows snipers best.

The HK417 instantly points to the approximate location of the incoming bullet, with almost no aiming time, relying purely on honed muscle memory and ballistic intuition!
"Bang—Sizzle!"

The muffler roared again!

A 7.62mm NATO round, spinning at supersonic speed, was fired towards the shadow of a distant water tower!

The bullet did not hit the target.

But we were already very close to the enemy's hiding place.

The blurry sniper figure on the distant tower suddenly flickered, seemingly grazed by a bullet or startled, and vanished instantly behind the dark cover.

"Hunter!"

Song Heping's eyes sharpened, and his heart trembled violently.

"The bullet went right through! Damn! Thank goodness no bones were broken! Let's get out of here, it's too dangerous! Let's go!"

The hunter's voice came through the tactical scarf, still cold and emotionless, as if the flesh being torn apart was not his own.

He steadily supported the heavy HK417 with only his right hand, the muzzle scanning the gap behind him and possible pursuit routes with alertness like a radar. His steps did not falter at all, and he followed the team out.

Without pausing for a moment, the four moved towards the south of the city at top speed, like four arrows disappearing into the night.

The entire desert city seemed to have been thrown into a boiling pot of oil!

Gunshots!

Explosion!
It was no longer sporadic firefights, but rather the sound of automatic weapons firing from all directions, like popping beans!

Interspersed among them were numerous familiar AK-series gunshots, yet they were being fired wildly at their former comrades who were also wearing the same clothes!
Shouts of battle, roars of anger, screams of the dying, the deafening roar of buildings collapsing in the explosions...

This already crumbling, isolated city was completely transformed into a hell of infighting!
"Traitor! General! It's Jafari! Colonel Jafari's men!"

An LNA officer, his face covered in blood and staggering as he ran towards Haftar, cried out in despair, his finger trembling as he pointed towards several areas in the city where fires were raging and fighting was at its fiercest. "They...they opened the west and north gates! They let those GNA bastards and the British special forces in! Almost half the brothers in the city have joined Jafari in rebellion! They say...they say you colluded with infidels and betrayed the country! They want...they want your head to collect a reward in Tripoli!"

"Jaafari?!"

Haftar was struck dumb, his body jerked violently as if an invisible giant hammer had slammed into his heart.

The weathered face instantly lost all color, turning deathly pale.

His fingers, gripping the AKMSU, trembled violently, his knuckles turning white from the excessive force, and the muzzle drooped limply toward the ground.

Jafari!
The name was branded onto his soul like a red-hot iron!
That young man he treated like his own son, whom he had taken with him and carefully nurtured since his exile in Egypt!

That was his absolute confidant, whom he had promoted all the way from a regular lieutenant to chief of staff!
That "son" who shared bitter coffee with him and planned for the future on countless difficult nights...

it turns out…

At the most critical moment, they actually plunged a poisoned dagger into his back?!

This is not just betrayal, it is the collapse of faith, the complete shattering of a lifetime's work!
His chest heaved violently. Although he had known all along that Jafari was behind it, he had still held onto a sliver of hope.

At this moment, all fantasies burst like soap bubbles.

"Haftar!"

Song Heping stepped forward and grabbed the other man's collar again.

"Tell me this is the last time you'll be distracted. If you do it again, I'll definitely shoot you!"

As he spoke, Song Heping drew his pistol with lightning speed and pressed it against Haftar's head.

The LNA officer next to him was startled and instinctively took two steps back, raising his gun.

Before he could even raise his gun, another gun was already pressed against the back of his head.

"Try moving again."

He couldn't tolerate such cowardly behavior from those around him, especially this "collaborator," at such a crucial moment.

As human beings, we can have feelings.

As a soldier, especially a soldier on the battlefield, it is best to become a machine.

A killing machine!

"well……"

Haftar suddenly realized what was happening.

He slapped himself hard.

“I’m sorry…” In front of Song Heping, Haftar felt like a submissive schoolboy.

……

While the bloody battle raged in the desert city, the Thames River flowed silently in London, reflecting the city's hazy lights through huge floor-to-ceiling windows.

However, inside the top-floor operations command center of MI6 headquarters, the air felt as if it had been frozen solid by a cold front.

On the huge curved screen, real-time intelligence from multiple information sources is displayed in a split-screen format:

The main screen on the left displays a high-resolution satellite view, focusing on the desert city region in eastern Lebia.

In thermal imaging mode, the entire city resembles a boiling, massive wound covered in red and yellow spots.

The red dots representing intense firefights are mainly concentrated in the former LNA command post area and several key intersections to the west and north.

The encrypted text intelligence stream that keeps refreshing on the small screen in the upper right corner is labeled as originating from "Mole-Depth".

On a large screen in the lower right corner, the image has been split into several blurry but intense night vision combat clips transmitted back by reconnaissance drones.

One scene clearly captures Haftar following Song Heping in the firelight, surrounded by dozens of mercenaries from the "Musician" defense, who spread out in groups of three to form a defensive formation and continue moving south of the city.

On a small screen in the center, there is a high-definition close-up photo of Song Heping, with sharp eyes and a cold expression.

Next to it is the file of its core team—

Hunter, sniper...

A jinx, a machine gunner...

……

Ms. M sat upright in the center of the command seat, her deep blue custom-made suit impeccably tailored, and her short silver-gray hair neatly combed.

Every wrinkle on her face seemed to be meticulously sculpted with a carving knife, recording half a century of intelligence history.

At this moment, those ice-blue eyes, like the operating lights on an operating table, calmly and sharply scrutinized everything on the screen.

On the sleek black control panel in front of her lay an open document with the words "Top Secret/Top Secret: Operation Nightingale - Throat Severing Real-Time Update" printed in scarlet on the cover.

"lady."

A young but solemn intelligence analyst stood before the control panel, speaking clearly and rapidly: "'Mole-Depth' latest confirmation: the decoy has taken effect. Colonel Jafari and his 3rd and 7th Infantry Battalions and part of an armored company launched their operation as planned at 21:47 local time. Our 'Rattlesnake' unit, commanded by SBS Captain Coleman and reinforced by a platoon from the GNA Special Forces Company, has successfully entered the city through the North and West gates and joined forces with Jafari's forces. They are currently besieging the former LNA core command post area..."

He pointed to several brightly flashing red dots on the satellite imagery on the main screen: "Heat source and signal analysis shows that target Song Heping and his core guards, as well as high-value target Haftar, have been successfully forced out of the command building and are currently located in the ruins of the northwest area, attempting to break out. 'Mole-Depth' reports that Haftar's mental state has been severely damaged and he is on the verge of collapse after confirming Jafari's defection."

The analyst pointed to the drone footage in the lower right corner, saying, "The real-time video we captured also corroborates this."

On the screen, the moment when Song Heping grabbed Haftar by the collar was frozen and magnified.

"'The Mole' captured a crucial moment: Song Heping seems to be 'awakening' Haftar in an extreme way."

The analyst added, his voice carrying a barely perceptible hint of surprise.

"Extreme methods?"

The head of operations, sitting to Ms. M's right, raised an eyebrow. This veteran agent, whose hair was combed as meticulously as a banker's, curled his lips into a playful smile. "It seems our Eastern friends are even more direct than what's recorded in the files."

"Direct? Mr. Ames, that's called efficient."

Ms. M finally spoke, her voice not loud, but carrying an absolute authority that seemed to control the entire situation, a authority hidden beneath the ice.

Her slender fingers tapped lightly on the smooth tabletop, her gaze fixed on Song Heping's sharply defined face on the screen.

Ames clearly looked down on Song Heping, saying contemptuously, "A lowly pawn who retired from the PLA special forces and came to Iligo to make a living has managed to extend his tentacles to North Africa and the valves of the British Empire's oil pipelines in just a few years. Who does he think he is? A mercenary leader who only cares about profit, does he even deserve to make a move on Her Majesty the Queen's chessboard?"

"But he killed all the people who were hunting him."

Ms. M glanced at Ames, her tone calm, but the contempt and murderous intent in her words made the temperature in the command room seem to drop several degrees.

"lady."

A senior agent sitting across from Ames said, “The Rattlesnake team and Jafari’s operation was a great success. Haftar’s forces are in a state of paralysis and internal strife. Song Heping and his guards, though formidable, are trapped between the rebels and the main GNA forces, like caged beasts caught in a trap. I recommend that the Rattlesnake team abandon the plan to capture him alive and authorize the use of all necessary means, including calling in GNA artillery for area coverage, to completely eliminate Song Heping before he escapes Desert City! At the same time, order our liaisons in the GNA leadership to immediately coordinate with the frontline troops to hold Song Heping and the remnants of Haftar’s forces at all costs and prevent them from escaping to the border!”

"Hmm, that's a good suggestion." Ms. M nodded slightly.

Ames stared at the screen for a moment, then tapped Song Heping's portrait heavily with his finger: "He must be erased! And it must be tonight!"

Ms. M did not answer immediately.

She slowly stood up, walked to the huge curved screen, and stared at the red heat source area that symbolized chaos and slaughter.

Her figure appeared exceptionally thin under the screen's light, yet it possessed a suffocatingly oppressive force.

"Erase? You're too kind."

Ms. M's voice was like Arctic glaciers rubbing against each other.

"This is not a simple purge. This is a war. A war of revenge launched by Song Heping against the British Empire."

She turned abruptly, her icy blue eyes like two sharp swords, sweeping over all the senior intelligence officers and military liaisons in the command room.

“Look at his plan! His target is Raslanuf, Brega, and Sidr! Those are our country’s energy arteries and the lifeline of the financial city! He wants to use Haftar, this rusty, broken knife, to cut our throat.”

Her finger pointed precisely at the small, blue area in eastern Lebanon marked as LNA-controlled on the satellite image, her tone filled with icy sarcasm.

"Supporting Haftar? A washed-up warlord abandoned by Moscow, a complete loser who couldn't even control his most trusted chief of staff! And he's become a pawn in his challenge to imperial hegemony? What a huge irony! This kid has really lost his mind!"

She paused slightly, her gaze returning to the blurry photo on the screen of Song Heping grabbing Haftar by the collar, a chilling smile curving her lips: "However, his 'courage' in trying to control the situation even in dire circumstances is somewhat surprising. Unfortunately, in the face of absolute power, personal bravery and cunning are nothing more than the most useless lament at a funeral."

Her voice suddenly rose, carrying an unquestionable final verdict: "Order 'Sahel Rattlesnake' squad: Authorize the use of the highest level of force! Allow the call-up of all available GNA support fire! Authorize the use of 'Sapphire' (referring to a type of man-portable thermobaric weapon or thermobaric warhead)! I don't care what methods you use! Before dawn, I want to see clear images of Song Heping and Haftar confirmed dead! Bodies, or heads!"

"Furthermore, order General Farouk, the highest-ranking commander on the GNA front: immediately deploy all reserves! Block all passages south and east from Desert City! Especially all routes leading to the North Darfur border! Tell Farouk that if any of the targets escape, every penny he and his family have in their London bank accounts will become history!"

"Order the Technical Department: Activate all on-orbit reconnaissance satellites, focusing on monitoring the North Darfur direction! Contact our 'Albatross' (a code name for spies) in Khartoum (the capital of Sudan) and closely monitor the movements of the Sudanese military! We must not allow Song Heping to escape back to his 'rocky' tortoise shell!"

A series of commands, like cold steel balls, came out of Ms. M's mouth clearly and quickly. The atmosphere in the entire command center instantly tightened to its limit, leaving only a somber symphony of rapidly transmitted instructions, keyboard clicks, and communication calls.

"Operation code name unchanged—" Ms. M glanced at Song Heping's image on the screen one last time, as if looking at a dead man.

“'Cutthroat'”.

"I will use their blood to stain the dawn of Lebia red, to tell the world that the price of challenging the British Empire is only utter annihilation."

"Yes, ma'am!"

A unified response rang out from the command center.

(End of this chapter)