Mercenaries, I Will Be King Chapter 1025 - 948: The Gallia’s Terms

The cold edges of the satellite phone pressed against Song Heping's palm. He casually shook this expensive communication tool, a faint, almost cruel smile surfaced at his lips.

"The equipnt issue is resolved."

His voice was not loud, yet it was like a stone thrown into a deep pond, stirring invisible ripples.

"The most advanced gear, integrated listening and interference. By then…"

He turned his gaze to Jiang Feng, who was standing with arms crossed beside him, "You take people to the designated location to retrieve it."

"No problem!"

Jiang Feng grinned, subconsciously rubbing his fingers—a habit ford over years of military life, where every ti he felt excited, his fingers had the urge to pull the trigger at any mont.

"Cutting off the British mouthpiece, Collins and I will handle it, ensuring they beco blind."

Song Heping no longer looked at him, his gaze like a precise probe, turning to Henry in the corner.

The look was calm and undisturbed, yet made Henry instinctively straighten his back a bit.

"My Intelligence Director." Song Heping spoke up, his voice carried an invisible pressure despite no hint of urgency, "Any feedback from the French?"

Henry quickly responded, "Shire, head of DGSE in West Africa! He's very interested in our 'business'!"

He licked his slightly dry lips, his Adam's apple bobbed, as if confirming if the next bargaining chip was tempting enough.

"What they want in return is, after success, the complete takeover by French companies of British mining rights in the southern region."

"Give it to them, no problem."

Song Heping's answer was without hesitation, as decisively as cutting through water.

The red pen in his hand was already hovering above the large map of the Sen Republic on the table, its tip aid at a densely marked area in the south—with symbols indicating rich niobium-tantalum deposits.

As his words fell, the red pen struck down decisively, the vivid ink instantaneously exploding into a glaring dot on the lines representing the mineral veins, the pen tip almost penetrating the fragile paper.

"Priority, no problem."

He raised his head, his gaze sharp like a hawk, piercing through the map, directly targeting Henry's eyes, "Who is their inside supporter in the Sen governnt this ti?"

Henry imdiately turned around, picked up a brown paper file from the table filled with docunts and communication equipnt, and respectfully placed it on the map in front of Song Heping, right next to that glaring red dot.

"Isis."

He introduced, "The Minister of Mining during Noel's governnt. Appears neutral, with a decent reputation. Precisely because he was a cabinet mber under Noel, Du Er kicked him out once he ca to power. His family has deep roots in Sen, a notable family. During the French colonial period, they were the 'old friends' serving Gallia, keeping relations extrely watertight. Isis himself, has credentials from Paris University."

"More importantly…"

Henry added, his voice lowered slightly, "Isis's family has deep branches in the Sena Military, with many mbers in key positions within the Army and Air Force. Once we initiate action, preliminary estimates suggest they can mobilize at least six brigades as insiders."

"Ha..."

A short, cold laugh emanated from Song Heping's nasal cavity, carrying a mocking chill like ice shards.

He quickly flipped through the file, the sound of paper rustling, his gaze swept across those texts and photos docunting loyalty and betrayal.

Having finished reading, he tossed the file back onto the table like throwing rubbish, leaving only naked disdain on his face.

"Truly a hundred-year support..."

He murmured, as if evaluating an antique, "The French's patience in raising dogs is indeed top-notch."

He lifted his gaze, scanning each person present with eyes that saw through everything and were chilling to the core.

"In such small places."

His fingers unconsciously tapped on the tabletop, emitting a dull thumping sound, "The president on stage is nothing more than a puppet on strings. Those standing behind are always those Western 'advisors' in suits, holding the remote control. Whoever supports the puppets sends out the advisors. The advisors are the ones truly commanding and seizing benefits. As for who the puppet is?"

He pulled out a smile devoid of warmth.

"Doesn't matter. As long as it's a loyal dog."

He turned back to look at Henry, his fingers pointing at the file discarded like worn-out shoes on the table.

"Henry, what I want is more than just these 'insiders'."

His voice was not loud, yet carried undeniable weight.

Henry imdiately understood and responded, "As for international troubles post-coup, the French have clearly stated that if the situation escalates to involve the United Nations (UN), they will use the veto rights and diplomatic network of the permanent mbers to provide us with political protection, weaving that 'diplomatic curtain' thicker."

"Hmm..."

Song Heping slowly nodded, the taut line of his jaw finally relaxed a bit, a genuine trace of approval flashed in his eyes, "Not bad. This is more like it."

This is the most vulnerable and yet the most lethal string in his entire massive plan.

His own identity is too sensitive.

The last ti he assisted the British in planning a lightning coup, although it was a success, the storm stirred has yet to calm, international attention long focused on him as this "shadow orchestrator."

Now, not even three months later, to stir up another in Sena?

Once exposed as his doing, the Aricans would never miss this once-in-a-lifeti opportunity.

The CIA's propaganda machine would operate at full capacity, portraying him as an utterly reprehensible war profiteer, stirring up a mighty wave at the United Nations, pressing for international intervention.

Sena is still a mber of the African Union (AU).

The attitude of the African Union is a variable even harder to predict.

The chess ga Song Heping is playing now could easily overturn a country's governnt.

If the African Union is incited to intervene, or if the United Nations really sends in peacekeeping forces, the situation will beco extrely tricky.

This is not a question of whether we can win or not — he has absolute confidence in his battle-hardened rcenaries — but a question of whether we can and dare to fight.

Opening fire on troops with blue helts or the African Union flag?

That would be tantamount to cutting himself off from the entire international community, and Song Heping isn't crazy enough to go that far.

Not to ntion the "head of the terrorist" label that the Aricans have slapped on him, still a sword hanging over him.

Without a major country backing him with political asylum, playing such gas to change the world is like walking a tightrope at high altitude, with an abyss beneath.

Using the Gaul is a risky, but currently the best option.

Even though not long ago he had helped the British trick the French and dealt a heavy blow to French influence in the area.

But in the muddy waters of international politics, the only valid currency is raw interest.

As long as Song Heping is willing to offer the tantalizing mining rights in Southern Sena as bait, the French would undoubtedly toss past grievances into the Seine River.

No one would go against a real gold mine.

"But..."

Henry's voice rang out again, but with a hint of hesitation, like a knot suddenly tied in smooth silk. He instinctively avoided Song Heping's gaze.

"But what?"

Song Heping's question quickly followed.

Henry swallowed hard and spoke with difficulty: "Charles... he asks to et you in person. To confirm face to face."

"In person?"

Song Heping's brow furrowed imperceptibly, his eyes turned sharply as he scrutinized Henry: "Does he want to see that badly? Is speaking over the phone, or having you represent , still not enough for him to confidently place his bet?"

"The rumours..."

Henry explained, beads of sweat appearing at his temple: "They all say you're dead, died three months ago in a skirmish in a neighboring country. Charles is very clear; if he cannot see you alive, proving you're indeed in control behind the scenes, his confidence in the success of this plan is lacking. The French side... they are unwilling to take that risk. But if you are indeed 'alive', and he confirms it with his own eyes, then everything is negotiable."

"Damn it!"

Song Heping first froze and then unexpectedly let out a low laugh.

Fake death!

This was a brilliant move he painstakingly orchestrated.

With a ticulously planned "accidental death," he successfully fooled the eyes and ears of MI6 and the CIA, allowing him to completely disappear from the spotlight, lurking like a ghost in the shadows, quietly weaving a colossal web to overthrow Sena.

This was his greatest strategic advantage and the foundation for the implentation of the entire plan.

Should news of his "survival" leak, even a ripple would foreseeably push the skittish British to turn Sena into a military fortress — additional advisory teams, more elite SAS squads, or even direct troop deploynts to the mining areas.

That would be a devastating blow to his ticulously prepared blitzkrieg plan.

The French move hit directly at his soft spot.

Charles, the old fox, clearly understands his ga well.

No pain, no gain!

After a brief gloom, Song Heping's eyes reignited with a gambling determination.

The risks are imnse, but so are the rewards.

Without that crucial "diplomatic curtain" from the French and the internal support from the Isis family, the likelihood of a successful coup and the subsequent stability would be significantly reduced.

Getting sothing for nothing and having the French bet heavily? The world doesn't work that way.

He needs to show "sincerity," even if it ans betting on his own safety.

"Alright!"

Song Heping's voice was decisive, breaking the stifling air in the safe house, "You tell Charles, arrange a ti with him. But the location and ti—"

He emphasized, every word like a quenched steel nail: "Will be decided by us! If he accepts, then we'll et. If he doesn't—"

He looked around, his gaze sweeping over Jiang Feng, Henry, and the core mbers in the corner who were holding their breath, a nearly cruel arc at the corner of his mouth, "Then cancel the deal. We'll do it ourselves!"

Do it ourselves?

These three words were like three heavy bombs, exploding in the confined space of the safe house.

The air was instantly sucked out, replaced by a suffocating dead silence.

Ti seed frozen, with only the second hand of the old wall clock clicking away, its sound magnified in the silence, each tick echoing in everyone's hearts.

"Scared?"

Song Heping broke the silence, his voice not loud, yet like a cold dagger, effortlessly slicing through the frozen fear.

He slowly stood up, walked to the map, and his finger pointed heavily at the locations representing the southern mining area and Capital Sena City.

"Six thousand elites."

His voice was calm yet contained the force of an impending volcanic eruption, "That's the force we can quickly assemble on this land. You have no idea what the Sena governnt army is like?"

His gaze sharply traversed each person, "Old-fashioned equipnt, lax training, low morale. Their forces are just paper numbers! The French not getting involved?"

He suddenly raised his volu, carrying an air of disdain for everything, "Then we'll directly find a proxy within the governnt army! Support him to the top! We'll do it ourselves!"