Crossing the border line whose symbolic significance outweighs its actual defensive capability, entering the arid hills of Persia, Song Heping didn't feel a shred of safety.
Captain Lei's warning lingered in his ears.
The situation in Persia was too complex.
Until entering the safe haven provided by Afanti, there wouldn't be a mont's safety.
He found a large rock and hid in the shadow.
Though temporarily out of the deathly gaze of the "Grim Reaper" drone, the invisible noose seed to tighten even more.
Nevada's missile control officer, Vincent at the Langley command center, and the twisted faces of those US Army soldiers executed by him one by one on the ground...
He knew, this killing spree broadcast had completely ignited the powder keg.
The vast shadow of the CIA, the Pentagon, and the entire US war machine must now be like an enraged swarm of bees, mobilizing all resources at the highest priority—satellites, drones, undercover agents, even diplomatic pressure—to wipe him off the face of the earth.
"The mole..."
Song Heping licked his dry, cracking lips, the taste of salt and blood filling his mouth.
He took out a water bottle, swallowed a mouthful of water, and turned to look behind at the Illiguo border zone that had just undergone blood and fire.
His whereabouts being precisely targeted, two lethal ambushes, absolutely not a coincidence.
Within Afanti's sphere of influence, there must be a CIA-infiltrated tumor.
If this tumor isn't removed, the so-called "safe zone" is just a sheet of gasoline-soaked paper, ready to ignite at any mont.
He took out the satellite phone and dialed that extrely confidential number.
"Song!"
Afanti's voice imdiately ca through, carrying a barely perceptible sense of urgency and concern, "My people should be arriving soon! What's your location? How's the situation?"
"Still alive for now."
Song Heping's voice was hoarse and deep, "Afanti, how is the internal investigation you promised going?"
There was a mont of silence on the other end of the call, followed by Afanti's decisive voice, "Already investigating! My people are monitoring all links potentially related to the last intelligence leak 24/7. Currently, in the armory, a Captain is highly suspect; his account recently had unexplained large financial flows, and his contacts are also suspicious. But I didn't move him, letting the line run long, I want to catch a bigger, deeper root behind him!"
"Letting the line run long?"
Song Heping's tone carried undisguised sarcasm, "Good strategy. But have you not considered, if the line is too long, the bait may be swallowed by a bigger fish at any ti?"
He paused, his voice dropping lower, carrying an almost brutal sense of prophecy, "Believe it or not, the 'trusted guard' squad coming to pick up later will also transmit my whereabouts in real-ti to the Aricans' screens?"
"What?!"
Afanti's voice suddenly shot up, filled with shock and disbelief.
"Song, that's impossible! Kafvan coming to get you is the Commander of my 'Shaherban' Guard! His people are proven loyal warriors through countless tests! If even they have issues..."
Afanti's voice was abruptly cut off, the unsaid consequences heavy enough to breach any defense line.
That would an his core survival force had been infiltrated, and he himself was constantly under lethal threat.
"Nothing is impossible. Loyalty shatters like glass when faced with sufficient temptation."
Song Heping interrupted, his tone incontrovertible, "Listen, don't send a helicopter! That thing is a sitting duck up there. Use a convoy, ground convoy. Low-key, spread the risk."
Afanti remained silent for several seconds, the phone only transmitting the sound of his heavy breathing.
He understood Song Heping, he knew that this man from the east had a keen and precise sense for danger, or he would have been dead hundreds of tis already.
Suppressing the storm inside him, he replied solemnly, "Understood. Follow your advice. Convoy, ground support. Kafvan will personally lead the team, select the route temporarily, and I will have him directly responsible to you. Song... be careful."
"Mm."
Song Heping hung up, tucked the satellite phone back into his pocket, and shrank deeper into the rock's shadow before taking out the dical kit to start bandaging his wounds and staunching the bleeding.
Now, he needed to conserve every bit of strength for the lethal threat that could descend at any mont.
Ti trickled by, minute by minute, in anxious waiting.
An hour later.
From afar, the roar of engines ca, approaching.
A convoy of Toyota Land Cruisers, camouflaged and painted desert tan brown, stirred up billowing dust as they sped swiftly and agilely towards the designated rendezvous point like ground-flying coyotes.
The convoy ca to a halt dozens of ters in front of the rock where Song Heping was hiding, raising a cloud of sand.
The door of the lead vehicle opened, and a solidly built, middle-aged officer with a thick beard jumped swiftly from the car, his gaze sharp, movents efficient—clearly, Captain Kafvan as ntioned by Afanti.
Song Heping slowly stepped out of the rock's shadow zone, his right hand never leaving the grip of the Glock 17 pistol.
Kafvan's gaze finally settled on Song Heping, and a flicker of barely noticeable surprise flashed in his eyes—obviously, the sight of Song Heping covered in blood was a striking image.
"Mr. Song!"
Kafvan strode forward, speaking with an accented English, his tone brisk and carrying a soldier's decisiveness and absolute obedience to superior orders, "Under General Afanti's orders, I'm here to escort you to a safe location! Please get in the car!"
He gestured for Song Heping to board the middle, modified bulletproof off-road vehicle.
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