Du Er's scream echoed over the empty courtyard outside the President's Mansion, filled with smoke and the breath of death, carrying a kind of desperation and collapse that tore at the vocal cords.
The filthy "white flag," was wildly waved in Du Er's violently trembling hand, like a banner announcing the total collapse of this governnt's power.
"Cease fire."
Song Heping raised his hand, signaling White Bear to stop shooting, then turned his gaze towards the direction of the President's Mansion gate.
Du Er's distorted face was covered with blood and tears, waving the piece of white cloth like the climax of an absurd play.
He said nothing.
He just raised a hand, making an extrely concise and cold gesture towards the gate—co over.
A gesture was an order.
Even soone like President Du Er was no exception.
The heavy, bullet-riddled, and smoke-stained main door of the President's Mansion, slowly opened a crack with the screeching sound of internal chanisms.
Du Er's figure appeared in the shadow of the door crack, almost scrambling and crawling out, stumbling and awkwardly falling at the steps before the door.
The bloodstained "white flag" was tightly clutched in his hand, covered with dirt.
He struggled to get up, but his legs were as weak as overcooked noodles, and after several futile attempts, he could only collapse on the cold stone steps, panting heavily, his body shaking like a sieve.
Song Heping stepped forward, his military boots crunching over the broken bricks and sand on the ground with a steady and clear "click."
He stopped a few steps in front of Du Er.
Looking down at him.
From a superior position.
As the shadow enveloped him, Du Er raised his head in terror.
The moonlight was blocked by Song Heping's broad shoulders, casting darkness over his own face.
Du Er's gaze was scattered, with only shattered fear and bewildernt deep in his pupils, like prey caught by the throat by a predator.
"The docunt."
Song Heping's voice pierced through Du Er's chaotic consciousness like an icicle, with an unquestionable sense of conclusion.
Jiang Feng appeared soundlessly like a ghost at Song Heping's side behind.
He held an open hard black folder with several printed docunts inside, the papers gently fluttering in the evening breeze.
The title of the top docunt was clearly visible: "National Power Transfer and Amnesty Agreent."
Jiang Feng handed the folder and a heavy golden pen to Du Er.
Du Er's eyes were fixed on the docunt as if it were an abyss capable of devouring souls.
His lips trembled violently, producing a "gurgle" sound from his throat, yet unable to utter a complete syllable.
His hand unconsciously lifted, reaching for the pen, but his fingertips trembled fiercely a few centiters away from the cold tal, as if electrified, recoiled.
The imnse sense of humiliation and the total collapse of his power, like two vipers gnawing at his heart. His facial muscles twisted as if silently screaming, making one last, futile struggle.
Ti seed frozen.
Only the low and continuous roar of the tank engine, like an eternal heartbeat in the background, beat against Du Er's nerves stretched to the limit.
The 125-milliter cannon, though silent for the mont, its cold tallic presence, and the gaping muzzle, like an eternally watchful eye, reminded him of the previous earthshaking strike, reminding him of the only choice at this mont.
Cold sweat stread down Du Er's forehead and temples like a brook, mixed with blood and gri, carving muddy ravines on his face.
He abruptly shut his eyes tight, his body convulsing violently, as if he had exhausted the last ounce of resistance.
When he opened them again, those eyes were left only with a death-like emptiness and complete submission.
He no longer trembled, lifting the hand that once signed countless decrees and wielded the fate of countless lives, grasped the cold golden pen.
The pen tip touched the paper.
The subtle friction sound, almost inaudible against the tank engine's growling and the distant sporadic gunfire.
Yet, when "Duer Kalang" appeared on the docunt's signature line with a twisted, trembling handwriting, like a dying man's last note, an invisible, heavy weight fell like a thud.
The dust settled.
Du Er seed to have his spine removed, his entire being collapsed completely, the hand holding the pen dropped powerlessly, and the pen made a "clack" as it hit the stone stairs.
He sat there, head deeply bowed, his grizzled hair disheveled in the evening breeze, dazedly staring at his mud-stained pant cuffs, like a clay sculpture instantly drained of all life.
Song Heping's gaze swept over the twisted signature on the docunt, confirming its correctness.
He extended his hand, took the folder from Jiang Feng, and closed it with a "snap."
The action was crisp and clean, without a trace of hesitation. That soft noise was akin to a finality.
"Jiang Feng, escort Mr. Du Er to the office, and then record a resignation video for him." Song Heping instructed calmly, "Then imdiately prepare the plane, and have him and his family leave before dawn."
"Yes!"
Jiang Feng responded solemnly, waving his hand.
The two tall and strong rcenaries imdiately stepped forward, their actions not exactly rough, but lacking any semblance of respect.
They lifted Du Er, limp like mud, as if he were a worthless sack of goods, from the cold stone steps on either side.
Du Er's feet dragged on the ground without any struggle, as they dragged him towards the President's Mansion's main building.
The blood-stained fragnt of the 'white flag' shirt slipped from his powerless hand, falling alone on the steps, and was soon stepped on by a muddy military boot.
Song Heping did not look at Du Er again. He turned around, his gaze cast afar.
The air was still thick with the acrid sll of smoke, dust, and blood.
The once-proud spire of the President's Mansion's main building, which overlooked the entire city, now had a massive, ugly, and ferocious fracture.
The broken steel bars jutted into the dim sky like snapped ribs, slowly spreading and rising with smoke and dust at the fracture.
The smoke of the power transition had not yet cleared, and a new order had been born under the gunfire.
However, he was well aware that this was only the beginning of the battle.
The seizure of power by force did not an that the dust had settled.
The international struggle had just begun.
If handled improperly, the results he had just obtained would likewise be ruthlessly taken away.
The struggle was indeed cruel.
He must be careful and cautious.
However, he was in a great mood at the mont.
After all, he was, at least, already seated at the table.
How the at on the table would be divided next depended on his skill.
Ten minutes later.
In the devastated office of the President's Mansion, the lighting was harshly bright and the air was filled with the strange sll of disinfectant and fear.
Du Er was placed behind the wide rosewood desk that once symbolized power, but he sat slumped like a pile of sludge in the leather chair.
Under the disheveled grey hair, his once high-spirited face was now swollen, covered with stains of blood and tears, his eyes hollow as if the eyeballs had been gouged out.
Two rcenaries dressed in black combat uniforms stood like stone statues on either side of him, radiating an invisible pressure.
A portable cara lens coldly focused on him.
Jiang Feng stood outside the lens, his voice not loud, yet carrying an undeniable tone of command: "Mr. Du Er, start. Read the script. Clearly."
He pushed a printed paper in front of him.
Du Er's lips trembled violently, producing a wheezing sound in his throat with each heavy breath.
His gaze struggled to focus on the script, as the cold words burned his eyes like a red-hot branding iron.
He attempted to lift his hand to grab the cup of water on the table, his hand shaking so badly that the cup clattered and spilled, the water spreading to soak the paper in a blur of ink.
"Useless."
Jiang Feng cursed lowly, gesturing to a rcenary beside him.
The man imdiately stepped forward, roughly grabbing Du Er's wrist, using a coarse towel to haphazardly wipe off the dirt and tears from his face, applying such force it almost scraped off a layer of skin. Du Er let out a suppressed groan of pain.
"Read!"
Jiang Feng's voice suddenly rose, like a whip cracking in the deathly still air.
Du Er trembled all over, his pupils shrinking sharply.
He stared at the water-soaked, blurred script as if it were an abyss swallowing him.
After a few seconds of dead silence, a hoarse, broken voice, laden with sobs, squeezed out intermittently from his throat:
"Citizens... of the Sen Republic... I... Du Er Kalang... hereby... announce... my resignation... from the presidency... effective imdiately..." Each word seed to drain his last bit of life force, "In the past three months... the country... has plunged into chaos... the economy... has collapsed... the livelihood... devastated... I feel... helpless... and cannot absolve myself of bla... For the... peace of the nation... and to avoid... more bloodshed... I... have decided... to transfer power... to the legitimate... successor... Isis Marcus..."
His voice grew softer, almost turning into a whimper.
Having finished the last word, he suddenly lowered his head, his forehead hitting the cold desktop heavily, his shoulders shaking violently as he emitted an uncontrollable, beast-like wail of sorrow.
The sound echoed in the empty studio, filled with utter despair and an indelible sense of sha.
Jiang Feng watched expressionlessly until Du Er's sobbing gradually weakened into heavy breathing. He nodded at the caraman.
The red light of the cara turned off.
"Take him away."
Jiang Feng waved his hand, his voice as cold as Siberian permafrost, "Clean it up."
The two rcenaries stepped forward again, dragging the completely limp Du Er from the chair.
His body was as soft as if boneless, his feet dragging on the ground, leaving two filthy trails on the shiny floor—traces of the spilled water mixed with his urine.
The door of the studio closed behind him, sealing off the nauseating stench of corruption.
Almost as Du Er was dragged out of the studio, Jiang Feng spoke firmly into the earpiece: "Cut in the signal, broadcast nationwide."
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