Mercenaries, I Will Be King Chapter 184 - 161: It's Time to Enjoy Ourselves

Three days later, on a private island in the Maldives, Song Heping's cellphone rang as he lay on a beach chair.

"Damn! What are you doing?!"

It was the cook's voice.

"I'm on the beach by the sea."

"They're going out to sea to fish, aren't you coming?"

"No, I like the peace and quiet."

"Don't be such a killjoy, the brothers are all waiting for you!"

"Forget it, you guys have fun."

"Alright, but my friend is coming over at noon, you should co back and join us for a al."

"No problem, I'll hang around here for a bit and then head back."

"I'll catch a few big fish and we can have sashimi for lunch!"

"Alright, alright."

The call finally ended.

Song Heping sighed, put the satellite phone on the table beside him, and gazed into the distance.

A stretch of sea as clear and beautiful as sapphires, it was the most beautiful ocean Song Heping had ever seen. Even just sitting here doing nothing, simply gazing at the sea, was a pleasure.

The vastness of the deep ocean could instill a sense of vastness and fear, but the picturesque beaches of the Maldives in the Indian Ocean brought a sense of tranquility and serenity.

Lying here, if one looked down, their feet were touching the white and fine sand; looking up, there were the lazy white clouds and the clear blue sky.

Song Heping reached over and took the cocktail that was on the table.

A Bloody Mary.

That's what he had ordered.

Not that he knew much about cocktails, it was just that the na had caught his attention.

The drink, a mix of vodka, tomato juice, lemon slice, and celery stick, was bright red in color, resembling blood, hence the na.

While making the cocktail, the bartender had ntioned another story about the drink with a pretense of mystery.

In the 18th century, there was a breathtakingly beautiful Hungarian countess nad Elizabeth Báthory, and folklore described her—"Her long black hair floated in the air, her gem-like eyes contained a captivating brilliance, the fiery red gown flowed like flas, wrapping her porcelain-like slender figure, her entire presence like a moving spirit of fire."

The bartender said that drinking a Bloody Mary was like dancing with a stunning noblewoman, bringing a rush of passion and intensity.

This left Song Heping, inexperienced with cocktails, feeling quite perplexed.

After all, chartering this private island for a day cost thirty thousand dollars, a price that couldn't be considered cheap. The island ca staffed with thirty specialized personnel, including chefs and servants, and if one desired a massage, a masseur would provide top-tier services at any ti.

The taste of money.

This was the first ti Song Heping truly savored this flavor.

It reminded him of a phrase the cook often said—In our line of work, you make money in hell and spend it in heaven.

After sipping the "Bloody Mary," Song Heping wrinkled his brow.

"Fuck!"

He couldn't help but complain.

"Damn it, isn't this just tomato juice mixed with vodka?"

He held the glass up to the sunlight, examining the cocktail.

Apart from the "bloody" appearance, the taste was really rather ordinary.

It was basically the equivalent of "imperial jade liquid wine"!

Add a bit of tomato juice, celery juice, and this vodka tastes better?

No.

It can only be said that doing this does not make the drink taste better, but it lets it sell for a higher price.

This discouraged Song Heping from ordering any more cocktails in the following days. He saw a dazzling array of foreign liquors on the restaurant's shelf, but lantably, there was no baijiu, otherwise he'd rather drink so Fen or Moutai.

Since returning from Gaiala, the entire desire to go wild burst forth from everyone in the team.

With a share of 175 million dollars in hand, the team, including Samir, had only nine people, each getting a cut of ten million dollars, with the remaining 87.5 million directly injected into the company's overseas account for Ferrari to manage and invest as a fund.

Since joining the "Musician" team, in just over three months, Song Heping had transitioned from getting excited over contracts worth a few tens of thousands of dollars to being a millionaire worth millions—every person in the team felt they were living a dream.

Even the usually calm Song Heping could distinctly feel the stir inside his heart.

Money is a very magical thing.

Once you have it, your actions tend to change, at least to so extent.

In the past, Song Heping would tell himself to be as carefree as the floating clouds and flowing water, to adapt to circumstances, to see through the value of money, to tell himself that money isn't everything, to rember that sotis money can't buy happiness...

But when his account suddenly grew by tens of millions of dollars overnight, he found that all the maxims he used to balance and comfort himself were no longer effective.

Money indeed is not omnipotent.

But without money, you are nothing.

Money can't necessarily buy happiness.

But the kinds of joys the wealthy experience are simply beyond the poor's understanding.

Song Heping felt he was drifting.

On the night he returned to the Hassan Oil Field, he counted the numbers in his account over and over on his computer, trailing a proud tail of zeros after 175 digits.

The next day, the cook and White Bear ca knocking, talking about taking a break, going on a vacation, and organizing so team-building activities.

"Look at Black Water Company, they just organized a vacation to the coast of Kuwait last month. We've been working for over three months without a day off; we should also enjoy life a bit," they said.

This rationale made it impossible for Song Heping to refuse.

After all, being a rcenary is not only high-risk but also high-stress work.

If you don't take breaks, you're bound to collapse sooner or later.

So, Song Heping agreed to let everyone go on vacation for so team building.

Once the core mbers returned from the team-building, the rest of the local rcenaries began to take turns on leave.

Now, there weren't any problems with the two oil fields. The Free Army to the north was gone, and the remaining Kurd Ard, under the watchful eye of the Madheh Army, didn't dare to make trouble at the oil field.

Not to ntion the water supply station project.

Song Heping took his n and cut off the Salafi Ard's headquarters, and with the support of the Yijibai Tribe—Old Haymour now treated Song Heping with critical cheerfulness as if he were his own father.

Of course, after receiving nearly two hundred million dollars in profit and obtaining the military supplies that originally belonged to the Salafi Ard, Old Haymour beca the most powerful figure in the Sherbut area.

With the water supply station on his territory and his declaration that it wasn't to be touched, who would dare to do so?

The situation couldn't be better.

All signs pointed to one thing—"Musician" Defense was getting on the right track, steadily moving beyond the start-up phase and into maturity, and could operate normally even without its core mbers for a while.

Since it was the company's first team-building retreat and to reward the brothers for their months of risking their lives, Song Heping decided to allocate one million dollars for the team-building fund, allowing the core team mbers to have a good ti and relax.

Black Water went to Kuwait, right?

"Musician" wouldn't follow suit.

If they were going on a vacation, it would be to the Maldives, a holiday paradise.

They'd find a private island, costing thirty thousand dollars a day inclusive of a yacht, a submarine, a seaplane, and daily rare delicacies, to let loose completely.

But just one day after arriving on the island, Song Heping suddenly grew tired of it all.

It was like soone who usually ate a bland diet suddenly ordered a table full of at dishes, thinking he would devour it all, but halfway through, just looking at it made his throat feel greasy, and he wanted to get up and leave the table.

While everyone else sailed out to fish, Song Heping sat idly in a private beach chair, finishing a Bloody Mary that he despised, and when the island's waiter ca over to collect the empty glass and asked if he wanted another, Song Heping waved his hand to refuse.

He went to the dock and had soone bring over the mini-submarine, which was sowhat similar to the DPV underwater propulsion devices used by Special Forces for underwater operations, making it usable by three people at a ti.

Accompanied by an island-employed driver, Song Heping took a dive nearby and felt bored again.

He asked for a mask, ran over to a secluded spot on the other side of the island, climbed a massive rock, then plunged into the sea, spearfishing with a speargun.

The depth around the private island was about ten ters or so, not very deep. Subrging with a mask, he soon spotted a grouper.

After several minutes of pursuit, Song Heping finally succeeded in shooting it with his speargun, pulling it out of the water.

The mont he surfaced, the blood seeping from the grouper colored the sea red. Song Heping experienced a brief mont of dizziness after holding his breath underwater for a long ti as he erged.

But this made him even more excited, as if he were back in the days of receiving diving and underwater escape training at the seaside base, reliving the sensations from back then.

It turned out that after so many years, even though he had left for so long, working abroad, chasing money, joining rcenaries and living on the edge, what he missed the most was still the training field and the battlefield…

As it neared noon, Song Heping saw a small seaplane appearing in the distance, heading for the island.

His imdiate thought was of the cook's Russian friend.

This man, nad Ivan, was an underworld connection the cook had t in prison, and also the middleman who had sold the last batch of arms to South Arica.

Russia's gangs are infamous, and they have long held a notorious reputation in the underworld.

Song Heping was well aware of this, so he definitely planned to join the welcoming feast at noon.

The underworld is not just about fighting and killing.

It's about human relationships and etiquette.

With that, he got out of the water, rinsed off the sea water under a beach shower, and had the waiter bring the fish and lobsters he had caught earlier to the restaurant while he strolled along the island path towards the dining venue.

As he neared the restaurant, his phone rang.

It was a call from the cook.

"Song! Where are you?"

"I'm near the restaurant."

"Ivan has arrived, co et him."

"Okay, I'm on my way."

Song Heping walked down the tree-lined path, and soon saw the restaurant next to another stretch of beach. The seaplane was moored nearby the dock, and raucous laughter echoed from the restaurant.

Through the windows, a guy in a white suit and white fedora was seen standing next to the cook by the liquor shelf, each holding a bottle of strong spirit, talking animatedly whilst tapping each other's chests and then breaking into hearty laughter, like two desperate n holding grenades, ready to asure up against each other.