Song Heping jumped off the vehicle, and the first thing he saw was the war-torn battlefield.
Even in the night, with the help of the vehicle's lights, one could see the wreckage and corpses scattered everywhere. Burning pickups emitted black smoke, and the sand was stained dark red with blood.
In the distance, groups of captives were being escorted toward a temporary camp.
Then he saw that familiar figure—
Avanti was standing beside a T-72S tank, explaining sothing to several officers.
Even from a distance, Song Heping could recognize the unique commanding gestures of his old friend.
Avanti seed to sense sothing and turned his head.
Their gazes t in mid-air.
Song Heping crossed the battlefield where the smoke had not yet dissipated, his boots crunching against the sand, occasionally having to dodge scattered weapon debris and unburied corpses.
Avanti also walked towards him, and his staff stopped in unison, keeping a distance.
They both halted simultaneously three ters apart.
"Song!" Avanti was the first to speak, carrying his familiar smile, "Looks like you've gotten yourself all ssed up again."
Song Heping looked down at his combat uniform stained with dust and blood, then at Avanti's clean digital camouflage of the Holy City Brigade—only his boots were dusted with sand.
He curled a corner of his mouth: "Soone has to fight hard on the front lines. Unlike so people, sitting inside tanks enjoying the view."
"My tank just rolled over at least twenty of those 1515 madn."
Avanti stepped forward without a handshake, instead giving Song Heping's shoulder a strong slap, enough force to make Song Heping sway slightly, "It's good you're alright. When I received your ergency signal to mobilize, I was drinking tea at the border."
"Your 'tea drinking' setup is quite grand."
Song Heping glanced at the still-burning battlefield in the distance, "Fifteen thousand n, the entire elite of the Holy City Brigade, right? How did those old guys in Tehran suddenly decide to go all in this ti?"
Avanti's smile turned profound: "When they heard soone wanted to open a side door to Siria for us in Illiguo... even the stingiest old n would beco generous."
The pair exchanged a glance, seeing in each other's eyes a tacit understanding only old friends could grasp.
Years of joint planning and countless encrypted channel discussions—all past collaborations condensed into a wordless trust at this mont.
"Find a quiet place?"
Song Heping gestured, "I need to know Tehran's bottom line, and you need to know my next step."
"Already prepared." Avanti turned to lead the way, "In my command vehicle, I have the Longjing you like—specifically bought last year and kept to give you, brought it today for you to taste."
Beside the armored command vehicle, a makeshift table and stove spread out, tea fragrance lingering in the air.
Avanti skillfully rinsed the tea sets, his technique so proficient it was more like an Eastern tea artist than a Persian general.
Song Heping leaned back in a simple chair, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, finally relaxing his nerves that had been tense for over ten hours.
"Try it." Avanti pushed the teacup over, "Though it's not as good as the premium ones back in your country, in this godforsaken place, it's already a luxury."
Song Heping took a sip, feeling the warm tea slide down his throat: "Not bad. Quite a decent tea."
Avanti also picked up his teacup: "Drinking tea can make one alert. And right now, what we need most is clarity."
After two rounds of tea, the conversation shifted to serious matters.
Avanti put down his teacup, his expression turning solemn:
"Lao Song, to be honest, when you proposed the plan two months ago, I reported to Tehran, and they thought you were crazy. In the multi-faceted swamp of Illiguo, simultaneously dealing with the US Army, governnt forces, 1515, and various tribal militias, and also carving out a safe corridor directly from Persia through Northern Illiguo to Siria..."
He paused, a complex look flashing in his eyes: "But I bet you'll win. I staked my twenty years of reputation in the Holy City Brigade to convince the Supre Committee."
Song Heping rotated the teacup in his hands: "So you personally ca."
"If I didn't, those bureaucrats in Tehran thing wouldn't fully understand your strategic intentions."
Avanti leaned forward, "Now, Bayji, Mosul, and parts of Kirkuk—you've completed in less than three months what we've long dread of arranging. The last piece of the Shiite Arc was filled in tonight."
"Not completely yet." Song Heping said calmly, "Titrick is still in 1515's hands."
Avanti's eyes flashed sharply: "That's exactly what I wanted to say. Az was captured, his troops lost over half, and Titrick is now defenseless. My troops are in high spirits, your troops also need a big victory. If we join forces, we can take the city within a week."
His fingers traced the makeshift map: "Once we take Titrick, we will have completely established a foothold in Northern Illiguo. Then we can move west to rendezvous with Siria's governnt forces, fully opening up this corridor. By then, a continuous strategic passage from Tehran to Beirut will be ford—"
"We can't attack Titrick." Song Heping interrupted him.
Avanti froze: "Song, this is the best opportunity—"
"Precisely because it's the best opportunity, we can't attack."
Song Heping stood up and walked to the map, "Avanti, how long have we known each other? When have you ever seen fight an unprepared battle?"
Avanti frowned but said nothing, waiting for Song Heping's explanation.
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