Mercenaries, I Will Be King Chapter 1250 - 1085: Wait

Persian Plateau, secret camp.

The encrypted channel indicator light of the satellite phone blinked stubbornly in the dim cave command center, emitting a low, rhythmic buzzing sound.

Song Heping lifted his head from a large map of the Northwest Illinois war zone and rubbed his bloodshot eyes due to prolonged concentration.

On the map, Mosul, Tal Afar, Sinjar, and other places were densely marked with red and blue pencils, arrows, traps, and question marks intertwining into a complex war ga map.

He put down the surveying ruler in his hand and picked up the cold handset of the satellite phone.

"Speak."

"Boss, it's , Henry."

Henry's familiar voice ca from the other end of the line, speaking with a touch of heaviness: "The storm in the northwest has passed... the preliminary assessnt results are in."

"Go on."

Song Heping's response was extrely concise; what he needed was facts and data, not emotional descriptions.

"Brutal... unprecedentedly brutal."

Henry took a deep breath on the other end of the phone before slowly starting his report.

"Based on fragnted information from limited open sources and rumors circulating in the underground world and the black market, over the past 48 to 72 hours, the CIA's intelligence network in Northwest Illinois, which had been operating for years, suffered an almost devastating systemic blow. Mosul, Tal Afar, Sinjar, Tal Far… almost all critical nodes were bloody purged."

"Specific details."

Song Heping asked further, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the map at Mosul's location. That cold touch kept him absolutely alert.

"Confird deaths or captures of high-level field operatives, known ones include 'History Teacher,' 'Hyacinth,' 'chanic'... the list is long. At least eight experienced veterans are confird. Losses of mid-level coordinators and important liaisons exceed fifteen. As for the lower-level informants..."

Henry paused, a hint of imperceptible bitterness in his voice, "Unable to precisely count, initial estimates are between forty to sixty people, possibly more. Many were executed on the spot after capture, many contacts were directly severed, leaving no trace. At least four known safe houses and equipnt storage points were completely destroyed, with large amounts of expensive communication equipnt, weapons, sensitive files not yet destroyed, and even operational funds falling into the hands of the 1515."

Seemingly feeling the severity of the situation, Henry stopped reporting. Across the phone, Song Heping could hear him licking his lips, as if needing to moisten his dry mouth due to tension.

"Boss, objectively speaking, the CIA's covert forces and intelligence collection and operational capabilities in Northwest Illinois have been uprooted by over ninety percent, almost paralyzed."

Song Heping listened silently, eyes falling on the marked cities on the map.

This result was even "better" than he had anticipated.

The extre ruthlessness and efficient action of the 1515 ard group perfectly served as his sharpest invisible blade in this precise and rciless purge.

Henry continued, "This ans, at least for the foreseeable future, the Aricans and their International Alliance's aerial strikes, drone assassinations, and Special Forces operations in Northwest Illinois will be greatly compromised in precision and tiliness. They have lost their 'eyes' and 'ears' on the ground and will have to rely more on satellites and high-altitude drones for wide-area monitoring, but that kind of monitoring lacks detail and real-ti capabilities."

"If the leaders of the 1515 beco cautious enough, reduce electronic communications, lower activity frequency, avoid open areas and fixed routines, the risk of them being targeted and assassinated by air power will be significantly reduced. Boss, your move... has temporarily crippled a major arm of the Aricans in Northwest Illinois and blinded their eyes..."

"Only temporarily."

Song Heping finally spoke again, his voice devoid of any pride or joy, filled only with a cold sense of reality.

"The CIA will be deeply wounded, caught in internal chaos and mutual bla, but they won't give up. They will spare no effort to rebuild the network, using more covert, brutal thods to infiltrate again. But this requires ti, a lot of manpower, resources, and ti. And this precious ti is exactly what we need most right now."

"So what do we do next?"

Henry asked, his tone growing urgent, "The northwest is now in chaos, the 1515 is frantically hunting down remaining suspicious individuals, taking the opportunity to eliminate dissidents, every tribe and small ard faction are on edge, now is the ti for us to expand our influence..."

"Wait."

Song Heping interrupted him, giving just one word.

"Wait?"

Henry's voice was filled with astonishnt; this completely contradicted the boss he knew, who was always proactive, skilled at creating and seizing opportunities.

"Yes, wait."

Song Heping's tone was indisputable, carrying the patience of a strategist.

"Wait for the CIA's chaos to further fernt, wait for their internal conflicts and investigations to drain more energy. Wait for the 1515's frenzied suppression to trigger more tribal and factional backlash and fear. Wait for those driven to the brink, seeing no other hope, to make choices themselves. What we need most now is to lie low, gather strength, make ourselves stronger. Continue to monitor all channels that can be tapped, use all resources, notify imdiately of any movent of key figures in the northwest, any unusual activity among tribal forces, or any signs of the CIA attempting to rebuild their network."

"Understood."

Although Henry still had doubts in his heart, his long-term trust and belief in Song Heping's judgnt made him choose to resolutely execute the order.

After hanging up the phone, Song Heping downed his cup of cold Arabic tea and then got up to walk out of the rock cave command post.

The night wind of the Persian Plateau imdiately enveloped him, carrying a biting chill and the scent of dry sand.

Sparks dotted the camp, and in the distance ca the monotonous footsteps of the patrol team.

The night sky here was beautiful.

The highland stars were exceptionally clear and cold, the Milky Way like a river of shattered diamonds spanning the sky.

In a relatively flat open space in the center of the camp, under the light of a few temporary electric lamps, dozens of newly recruited militian were undergoing basic drills and weapons training.

Samir and Naxin moved among them, loudly shouting in heavily accented Arabic and Kurdish, striving to correct the actions of the forr tribal fighters, farrs, and even urban youths who were used to being free and undisciplined.

Their shouts were exceptionally clear on the vast plateau.

Looking at this group, although filled with the fire of revenge yet still far from the elite troops in his heart that could fight tough battles, Song Heping knew deeply that deciding to "wait" was not wrong.

He had to use this precious ti window, bought with the blood of CIA agents and informants, to forge these potential-filled but unrefined "sands" into a future sword that could sweep across the 1515 Ard.

He turned and returned to the rock cave, took another satellite phone from a secure box, and dialed a familiar number.

The phone rang for a long ti before it was answered, the background sound extrely noisy, filled with the commotion of African drums, blurred local language shouting, and the roar of old engines, like a chaotic symphony.

"Hello? Who is this?"

A voice filled with professional caution ca through, with a laugh mixed in the background, "Hey, black brother, you can't swap that thing like that..."

"Jiang Feng, it's ."

Song Heping couldn't help but smile.

Looks like Jiang Feng was wandering through so market.

It was right for him to superficially disengage from Africa and the "Musician" defense.

At least the pressure on the other brothers was relieved a lot.

"This is my new number."

To evade CIA tracking, Song Heping had to frequently change numbers.

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line, then, as if igniting a powder keg, an explosion of joy erupted: "Old squad leader?! Damn! It's really you?! I haven't heard from you for days! Heard you've caused quite a stir over there in Northwest Illinois! I asked Henry, that old guy played dumb with , even kept it secret from !"

"I'm fine for now." Song Heping answered briefly, cutting straight to the point, "Is it idle over in Africa? Want to find you a proper job here in Persia, interested?"

"Yes! Definitely yes! A million percent yes!"

Jiang Feng's voice imdiately grew excited, the background noise seemingly suppressed by his rising enthusiasm.

"Currently, the various ard factions in Libya are in a negotiation period, talking about forming so kind of joint ruling council, got nothing to do with us, so Ferrari brought all our guys back to Sena. He's busy with finances, Henry with intelligence, the White Bear couple and Nura with transporting arms, they have things to do... Hunter and Disaster Star are at a base in Sudan, and I'm the one with nothing to do, like a bum waiting to die..."

"Co over and help train the militia."

Song Heping's tone was undeniable, "The location is the Persian Plateau. Samir's team now has only over seven hundred people, all promising recruits, full of spirit and hatred but lacking systematic military training, a scattered ss. You co over and teach them the training model from your instructing days along with company and platoon defense and attack tactics, and by the way, evaluate their individual soldiering skills, how about it?"

Jiang Feng grew more excited, his voice rising by eight degrees, "No problem! I'm good at this! I guarantee to train them until they're raring to go! Make them reflexively respond to your whistle in the future! When should I leave?"

"Imdiately." Song Heping's command was concise and powerful, "I'll have Ferrari book you a ticket, and I'll arrange the visa procedures on this end. You get here as fast as possible, don't cause trouble on the way."

"Got it! No problem!"

Jiang Feng was as happy as a child about to celebrate the New Year.

"I'll go pack my things now, you tell that Ferrari guy to hurry and book my flight!"

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