The next day.
As the last orange-red glow of the sunset brushed over the mottled earthen walls of Dagug.
A deep engine roar gradually approached, breaking the evening silence.
A convoy consisting of five desert-camouflage-painted M939 heavy military trucks and several Humrs mounted with M2 heavy machine guns slowly drove into the checkpoint at the outskirts of Dagug, controlled by Song Heping's "Liberation Forces."
The tires crunched over the gravel road, making a piercing sound.
The soldiers at the checkpoint imdiately beca alert, slightly raising the barrels of their AK-74M assault rifles, but not pointing them at the vehicles.
They recognized the affiliation of this convoy—the Aricans.
The door of the leading Humr slamd open, and the first to jump out was Simon, his face as dim as the evening sky.
Next, from the passenger side, descended Colonel Kote.
Colonel Kote had deliberately donned a crisp service uniform today, trying to maintain the final dignity and authority of a US Army officer.
However, as he looked around, his gaze swept over the checkpoint soldiers—these forr local militia, once ard with shabby AKs, were now wielding AK-74Ms.
It seed these hillbillies, under Song Heping's guidance and training, had beco the most formidable force on Illiguo soil.
"Colonel Kote, Mr. Simon."
A junior leader in charge of reception spoke in clumsy, cold English, expressionless, "Our boss has been waiting for a long ti at the command HQ."
He made a brief "please" gesture, stiff and devoid of respect.
The familiar command HQ.
Song Heping stood with his back to the entrance, leaning over a makeshift long table assembled from ammo boxes and door boards, examining a large military map spread over it.
Upon hearing footsteps, he slowly straightened up and turned around.
He first looked past Simon, landing his gaze accurately on Kote, instantly breaking into a mischievous smile, as if he had seen sothing extrely amusing.
"Well, well!"
Song Heping's voice was loud, deliberately raising his tone:
"Look who we have here! Isn't this Colonel Kote, our distinguished war hero, famous across Illiguo? What's the matter, the Pentagon couldn't find a competent lieutenant to run errands?"
The words "old friend" sounded particularly emphasized, like a sharp slap across Kote's face.
Kote's face turned from iron blue to a deep purple, his jaw clenching audibly. Old friend?
To hell with old friend!
His only thought at that mont was to draw the M9 pistol from his hip and turn this smug yellow-skinned bastard, grinning like an old fox, into a beehive!
But he couldn't.
Not only couldn't he, but he also had to respectfully deliver a large arsenal of weapons to this enemy, watching him grow stronger with it.
This was sheer humiliation!
"Mr. Song."
Kote barely forced the words out from deep in his throat: "Business is business! Cut the nonsense!"
He slamd a file labeled "US Governnt" onto the table, the impact making the map jump.
"This is the detailed list of the first batch of equipnt, including an M1A1 'Abrams' main battle tank for a reinforced company, a corresponding number of M2 'Bradley' Infantry Fighting Vehicles, five sets of ammunition, and fuel supplies only sufficient for initial operations. Please verify and sign the receipt according to the list!"
He deliberately stressed the word "receipt," trying to reclaim so control.
Afraid that Kote, this powder keg, would completely explode, Simon quickly stepped forward, taking another neatly bound docunt from his briefcase:
"Song, this is the military service contract draft signed with the Pentagon, amounting to a total of 1 billion dollars. This is the final version. Regarding the first paynt of 300 million dollars, we agreed that upon the contract's signing, along with the first batch of equipnt, we will..."
He paused, opting for a relatively vague expression.
"...implent. Please review carefully, and if there are no issues with the terms, sign here."
He pointed to the signatory spot for the second party, "Once signed, the equipnt outside, as well as subsequent support, will be delivered according to the plan."
Song Heping seed to ignore Simon's ntion of paynt, first leisurely picking up the equipnt list, thodically examining it page by page as if appraising an antique.
He scrutinized it carefully, sotis nodding, sotis frowning and shaking his head, muttering to himself.
"M1A1... hmm, though it's the downgraded export version, with thinner armor and an outdated fire control computer, well... it'll do for scaring off those Hulmatu hillbillies."
He lifted his eyelids, giving Kote a sideways glance.
"The number of Infantry Fighting Vehicles... tsk, not enough, can't even form a full company. Since when did you Aricans beco so stingy? Ammunition stock... just enough for an opening skirmish, to get ward up. As for the fuel..."
He snorted, "Just enough for my iron turtles to crawl to the outskirts of Hulmatu and catch the wind? Simon, Colonel Kote, your sincerity here feels like nine parts water in a bottle of fake wine. With just these few assets, you expect to tackle that tough bone of Hulmatu? I've got nothing but jitters inside."
Kote couldn't hold back any longer, letting out a heavy snort from his nose:
"Mr. Song, you'd better realize! This equipnt is enough to arm the most elite chanized battalion of the Illigo Governnt Army, with surplus! Don't forget, just a few months ago, most of your soldiers were still using old RPG-7s and AK-47s with worn bores! You should be satisfied!"
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