"In return..."
Simon clearly replied, "He demands that we tacitly acknowledge the legitimacy of the 'Liberation Forces' existence and activities in Northern Illigo, and cease all overt hostilities against the organization. Additionally, he expects us to engage in limited, controlled cooperation with the Russians and Persians in the intelligence realm and specific non-lethal military technology sectors."
He paused for a mont, allowing the impact of this "asking price" to fully sink in.
This was tantamount to acknowledging a state within a state, an uncontrollable warlord force.
The war room fell into silence once more.
Every high-level attendee was weighing the implications of Simon's words.
So even montarily questioned — which side was Simon really on?
However, such thoughts were fleeting.
After all, those in intelligence have many channels at their disposal.
The CIA previously collaborated with the 1515 Ard, let alone with soone like Song Heping?
People in intelligence need these morally ambiguous characters to exercise control; those who are too black-and-white cannot succeed in intelligence work.
Yet, Song Heping's demands seed too steep.
However, just as more dissenting voices were about to erupt, Simon laid down another heavy bargaining chip.
"Before you oppose, I want to remind everyone — Song Heping has also unequivocally warned through channels: If we refuse to cooperate... Then, Sulaimaniyah is rely the 'beginning' of his demonstration of strength and capability. He claims to possess enough ability and resolve to plunge the entire Northern Illigo situation into... a catastrophic abyss. He can turn that place into a region more chaotic and hostile to us than during the 1515's rule, making our efforts to regain influence cost tenfold, a hundredfold."
The final sentence froze all reprimands and rebuttals that were about to spill out, like a cold wind.
Song Heping had already proven with decisive actions in Sulaimaniyah, and before with multiple hostile operations against the Aricans, that his threats were not empty bluster.
He was not just a terrorist who spews harsh words, but a strategic-level player proficient in modern hybrid warfare with formidable execution capability.
He had the power to concretize the term "abyss."
Brenan stared intently at Simon, as if trying to penetrate his skull and discern his true thoughts deep within.
His gaze then shifted to the docunt on the table, his expression fluctuating.
The entire war room was engulfed in silence for nearly two minutes.
The air was as heavy as a lead block pressing on everyone's chest.
Only the low hum of the air-conditioning system accompanied the impending decision.
Finally, Brenan almost gritting his molars, squeezed out a line: "Bring... that thing... over."
He raised his hand, pointing to the docunt on the table.
"I need to take a closer look."
Simon's tensed nerves slightly relaxed.
He knew that this first and most challenging hurdle had been barely passed.
He picked up the docunt, under countless gazes mixed with shock, anger, extre curiosity, and an imperceptible trace of fear, and walked step by step around half the enormous conference table.
Finally, he stood before Brenan, handing the docunt to the nation's highest advisor on national security affairs.
Brenan accepted the docunt but did not imdiately read it.
He repeatedly rubbed the smooth cover with his fingertips, seemingly weighing the sins and penalties it carried, weighing the soul cost and potential strategic gains required to open this Pandora's Box.
Those few pages seed to emit an invisible, disquieting heat.
Eventually, as if having made so sort of decision, his eyes sharpened, and he quickly flipped to the first page.
Ti sluggishly flowed in the almost stagnant silence.
Brenan read ticulously, word by word, his face shifting from sheer indignation and doubt to a complex mix of emotions.
This was a detailed cooperation docunt, containing benefit analyses, consequences of turning against each other, the gains and losses for both sides.
Brenan had to admit.
Song Heping was not only an excellent military commander but also an expert well-versed in geopolitical dynamics and relationships.
It detailed the interests of the US side, Russian side, and Persian side, as well as his own, projecting potential cooperation prospects, even listing and analyzing mutual concerns and suspicions.
Brenan's brow occasionally furrowed, sotis slightly raised when encountering an audacious tactical suggestion; his reading pace sotis halted, plunged into prolonged contemplation, his gaze losing focus as if simulating the feasibility of the plan in his mind.
Everyone could read the impact and shock from the docunt on Brenan's face, no less significant than hearing the news of Sulaimaniyah's downfall a few hours earlier.
About fifteen minutes later, Brenan shut the docunt with a "snap."
The sound was not loud, but in the absolute silence, it was unusually clear.
He lifted his head, his gaze leaving the docunt's content, then slowly swept across the room.
Ultimately, he did not speak, his face void of expression, just pushed the docunt to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff beside him, a battle-hardened veteran bearing countless stars.
Taking it with both doubt and residual anger, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff glanced down at it.
Soon, the anger on his face was replaced by an expression of extre shock and incredulity, his graying eyebrows nearly flying off his forehead.
He subconsciously adjusted his glasses, body slightly leaning forward, seemingly trying to confirm that what he saw wasn't a fantasy.
What he saw might not only be cooperation clauses but a detailed blueprint of a joint military operation and a precise intelligence summary on the 1515's weaknesses and troop deploynt, far surpassing all their current information.
This subverted his simplistic perception of Song Heping as just a "troublemaker."
"A talent indeed..."
He couldn't help but express admiration.
If Song Heping were not from the East University, the old man would recruit Song Heping as an advisor himself.
Soon, he finished reading and passed the docunt to the next senior official.
The docunt silently and chanically circulated among the core decision-makers around the conference table.
From the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to participating top-level defense officials...
Everyone who read the docunt fell into a prolonged, deathlike silence.
Their expressions grew heavier with each reading, their eyes filled with struggle and contemplation.
The atmosphere in the conference room was suffocating.
The initial moral outrage had been supplanted by a deeper, colder calculus of realism.
A looming interrogation and strategic duel over this "deal with the devil" was about to explode within this ultimate sanctuary of Arican power.
And far away in the depths of the Kremlin in Moscow, as if telepathically connected, Song Heping's calm lips curled into an almost imperceptible smile.
At that mont, he was placing what was destined to be a history-altering chess piece on the enormous world map with President Vladimir.
In the inner court, across the ocean, the Middle East's destiny gears started breaking free of old tracks due to Song Heping's bold ideas and precise calculations.
Will we grasp the devil's offered blade to cut through the dilemma before us?
Or uphold our principles but potentially fall into a deeper abyss?
The mont of decision has arrived.
In the White House war room,
everyone had finished reading the docunt.
They exchanged glances in brief silence.
Finally, Brenan spoke: "Everyone's read it now, right? Alright, I think it's ti to vote. Now, those in favor of cooperating with Song Heping, please raise your hands."
He was the first to raise his hand: "I am in favor!"
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