Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1319 Who blinked first?

Smoke rose from Hurmatu in the deepest darkness before dawn, and the flames from the explosions dyed the sky dark red.

At a third-floor window of the municipal hospital, a military outpost in the northeastern part of the city, Colonel Ross held up binoculars with his bandaged left hand.

In view, the black flag of 1515 has been planted on every major building in the city hall, post office, and central square.

The flags fluttered in the morning breeze, like the wings of crows symbolizing death.

"Sir, Sector D has been completely lost. The remaining troops have retreated to the market square area, and their casualties exceed sixty percent."

"Fire is still raging in Area E, but we only have three anti-tank missiles left."

"Sector F requests emergency reinforcements. They are surrounded on three sides. The commander said... they can hold out for at most an hour."

Bad news kept coming, like a dull knife cutting into flesh.

Ross put down his binoculars and turned to look at the battle map.

The blue markers representing the area controlled by government forces have shrunk from 60 percent of the entire city 24 hours ago to less than 30 percent now.

Moreover, this 30% was further divided into three isolated islands: a hospital, a police station, and a power plant.

Between the three isolated islands, the 1515 troops are surging like a tide.

His adjutant, Major Miller, stood beside him, his face blackened by soot and bearing a fresh shrapnel wound.

"Sir, if we abandon the market square, our three outposts will be completely separated and unable to support each other."

“We’ve been divided up long ago, Miller.”

Ross sighed.

"What we need to protect now is not the area, but time. Every extra hour we hold out, the more pressure Washington will be under, and the more likely Song Heping will have to take action."

He picked up the encrypted satellite phone and connected to the dedicated line in the Green Zone of Bakda.

A hissing sound came from the other end of the line, followed by General Duke's tired but still steady voice: "Ross, report the situation."

"General, two-thirds of the city of Hurmatu has fallen."

Ross tried to keep his voice as steady as possible:

"But the remaining troops are scattered across three isolated outposts: the hospital, the police station, and the power plant. Heavy weapons and ammunition are running out, and the number of wounded exceeds four hundred... We can hold out for a few more hours at most. Repeat, a few more hours at most."

There was a five-second silence on the other end of the phone.

Five seconds is just a moment in normal times, but at this moment it feels like an eternity.

Ross could imagine Duke in the Bakda command center—his hands on the edge of the electronic sand table, staring at the flashing red dot of Hurmatu, surrounded by staff officers moving back and forth, constantly updated intelligence screens, and the invisible yet ubiquitous political pressure.

"Hang in there, Ross, we'll continue to send air support to you."

Duke's voice finally came through: "I'm making a final push. The higher-ups in Washington... need a little time to complete the formalities."

"General, my soldiers are running out of time," Ross almost shouted, but he immediately lowered his voice. "Please tell those bureaucrats sitting in the White House and the Pentagon—we may be mercenaries, but our lives matter too!"

After saying that, he hung up the phone in despair and went to the window.

The eastern sky was beginning to lighten with the first light of dawn, but the city was still shrouded in the glow of gunfire.

The roar of tank main guns could be heard in the distance, followed by the loud crash of buildings collapsing—it was 1515 clearing out the resistance stronghold in the most brutal way.

Miller handed over a half-empty bottle of water: "Sir, do you really think Song Heping will come?"

Ross took the water bottle but didn't drink it.

He looked southeast, towards area 4.

“He will come,” Ross finally said, his voice barely audible, “but not to save us, but for his chess game.”

At the same time, in area 4.

Song Heping set up a temporary command post inside a truck. The truck body was reinforced by engineers, which could provide some bulletproof protection. The top was covered with camouflage netting, and the interior was filled with communication equipment and electronic screens.

Six screens displayed real-time battlefield footage transmitted back by drones: street fighting in Hurmatu, the movement of Unit 1515, the route of the logistics convoy, and even the garrison deployment in rear towns such as Titrick, Tuz, and Fayhat.

Jiang Feng stood in front of the main screen, his fingers rapidly swiping and zooming on the touchscreen.

"Sergeant, the 1515 vanguard has broken into the center of Hurmatu, and Ross's troops have been compressed to three blocks."

Jiang Feng pulled up the thermal imaging image, where the red figures were so dense they looked like a swarm of ants.

"At this rate of advance, the hospital stronghold will fall by noon today at the latest, and Ross will be finished."

Song Heping sat in a folding chair, a 1:50000 military map spread out in front of him. The map was densely marked with the deployment of troops from all sides in red and blue pencils—red for 1515, blue for government forces and allied forces, and arrows and circles he had drawn himself in black marker.

His gaze did not linger on Hurmatu, but moved along an almost invisible dotted line.

The dotted line begins in Raqqa on the Syrian border, crosses the desert, bypasses the US-controlled area, runs along the western shore of Lake Sersar, and finally reaches Titrick—Amad's secret supply line, a lifeline supporting the Ahmed Group's offensive capabilities.

"Where are Ahmed's main forces?" Song Heping asked.

"The vanguard of 500 men is in the city of Hurmatu, while the central force of 3,000 men is spread along the 60-kilometer road from Hurmatu to here, marching in a long, serpentine formation."

Jiang Feng pulled up another set of images, which were aerial views taken by a high-altitude drone.

"The rearguard of two thousand men, guarding twenty 122mm howitzers and fifty ammunition trucks, are currently hiding in this location—'Broken Tooth' Sand Valley."

Jiang Feng pointed to a location on the map, which was only eight kilometers away from his current location.

"The Long Snake Formation".

A cold smile crept across Song Heping's lips.

"He was almost trapped in Hurmatu by us before, so he has a psychological trauma. Now he spreads 8,000 people out into a 30-kilometer line, with the forwards, middle and backs fighting separately. He thinks this is safe, that he can detach his tail like a gecko and survive when attacked, but he doesn't know that this gives us the opportunity to eat them up in segments."

There were several other staff officers and communications officers in the command post, and everyone listened with bated breath.

They wanted to know exactly how their boss planned to arrange the battle—to use two battalions of 800 elite mercenaries to defeat the 8,000-strong 1515 militia.

A troop ratio of 1:10 is suicidal in any military textbook.

But Song Heping never fought according to textbooks.

"Is Samir ready?" he asked.

"Six thousand 'Liberation Forces' militiamen have already secretly assembled on the outskirts of Titrick, divided into three attack groups."

Jiang Feng brought up the relevant screen: "Nassr, commander of the Persian Holy City Brigade, replied that his three thousand elites have arrived at the pre-arranged positions between Tuz and Fahit, and are ready to launch a feint attack at any time."

“It’s not a feint,” Song Heping corrected. “It’s the main attack. Tell Nassin that I want him to break through the outer defenses of Tuz town within four hours, take down all their strongholds, and make it look like a full-scale offensive. The same goes for Samir’s side. The attack on Titrick must be ruthless and real, and Ahmed must believe that his hometown is about to be lost.”

The command was transmitted through an encrypted channel.

Song Heping stood up and walked to the car door.

As dawn broke, the desert took on a cruel beauty in the morning light. Ochre-red sand dunes, greyish-white rock pillars, and the hazy outline of distant mountains on the horizon.

His two mercenary battalions were lying in ambush in this terrain.

The entire First Battalion is equipped with modified Humvees and armed pickup trucks, heavy machine guns, automatic grenade launchers, and Kornet anti-tank missiles. Their mission is high-mobility assault.

The Second Battalion, codenamed "Second Battalion," uses off-road vehicles as its carriers and carries 81mm mortars, anti-materiel sniper rifles, and man-portable air defense missiles. It is responsible for fire support and battlefield cover.

Eight hundred people against eight thousand people.

But Song Heping's calculations were never simple numerical comparisons.

"Boss, this is General Duke's third phone call."

The communications officer walked over with a satellite phone. "He said if you don't answer, he'll fly over directly."

Duke?

Song Heping was overjoyed.

finally come!

Hey!
I've been waiting for Duke's call for far too long!
The two of them were like playing a game of seeing who could blink first.

When the time came, Duke couldn't hold back any longer, or rather, the bigwigs in Washington couldn't sit still any longer.

He deliberately delayed answering the phone for more than ten seconds, but did not speak immediately.

The sound of Major General Duke's suppressed anger could be heard through the microphone.

I waited for a full ten seconds.

"Song, Hurmatu is about to fall."

Duke's voice finally came from the other end of the line, and the anxiety in it was clearly discernible.

"Colonel Ross can hold out for a few more hours at most. In a few hours, the flag of 1515 will be raised all over Hurmatu. Even if you want to counterattack and take Hurmatu then, the cost will be more than three times what it is now."

“I know,” Song Heping finally spoke, “but the problem is, I don’t necessarily have to get Hurmatu back.”

"You know? Then what are you waiting for?!" Duke practically roared. "Your troops are in Area 4. As soon as you give the order, you can attack Ahmed's forces. That way, at least you can save Ross!"

"And then?" Song Heping asked rhetorically, his voice still as calm as a still pond: "My two battalions charging into Hurmatu to fight 8,000 men from 1515 in street fighting? General, don't be ridiculous. You know better than I what street fighting is. It's a meat grinder, the battlefield where the side with superior numbers excels. If my 800 men go in, it would be a miracle if 200 of them came out alive a few hours later."

Duke remained silent.

He knew Song Heping was right, but he had no other choice.

Hurmatu is not just a strategic point in the northwest; it has become a political symbol.

If it falls, the prestige of the Bakta regime will suffer a fatal blow, the congressional appropriations hearings will turn into a disaster, and it may even affect next year's election.

"Washington has agreed to all your conditions!"

Duke finally revealed their hand.

He had previously wanted to hold back.

But Song Heping seemed nonchalant and indifferent.

There's really no time to delay any longer.

"We agree to Samir's forces being formalized, with the rank of major general, as well as equipment and funding. However, after Samir is incorporated, he must be placed under the control of the Iligo Ministry of Defense, and the organization of the troops and the appointment of officers can no longer be decided by him alone!"

Song Heping walked to the map, pointed at Hurmatu, and then slowly moved westward, passing through Tuz and Fehat, finally stopping at Titrick.

“I want more than that, General.”

"What?! You're trying to raise the price?! We already agreed on this!" Duke was clearly furious and about to explode; Song Heping could hear his heavy breathing even through the radio waves.

"Don't get agitated, General. You can add conditions to Samir's conditions on the spot, so why can't I add some?" Song Heping said sarcastically. "You're allowed to bargain, but I'm not allowed to raise the price?"

Duke clearly lacked the resources and patience to continue stalling for time with Song Heping.

If this drags on any longer, Hurmatu is truly doomed.

Besides, Song Heping just said that he doesn't necessarily want to take back Hurmatu.

What do you mean?
Is this guy planning to only take Mosul and Baiji?
He is capable.

But this was fatal for the Iligor government forces.

When Titrick, Ozam, and Hurmatu become a single city, Bakda will be in danger.

"Tell me, what else do you want?"

As Duke said this, he heard a crunching sound coming from his back molars.

"Dominance over the entire Northwest Theater. My company has secured a five-year security contract covering 500 square kilometers around Hurmatu; the U.S. military will provide corresponding equipment support and intelligence sharing."

"Are you trying to establish a state within a state in northwestern Iligo?!"

Duke's voice immediately rose several octaves.

"No, General. I'm helping you solve a problem that you can't solve on your own."

Song Heping's tone remained calm, yet firm.

"You've been fighting in Iligo for over a decade, spending trillions of dollars and losing thousands of soldiers, and what's the result? In 1515, you're still conquering territory, the Persians' influence is growing daily, and the Ottomans are eyeing you from the north. You need a new model, a lower-cost and more efficient one."

"And you are that pattern?"

“At least I proved it was feasible,” Song Heping said. “In just one month under my control, Baiji’s oil refinery recovered to 1515 percent of its pre-war output; I cut off half of the smuggling routes in the northwest; and Samir’s troops were transformed from a bunch of rabble into a disciplined and combat-ready militia. General, give me the same resources and authority, and I can turn the entire northwest into an insurmountable barrier.”

The sound of fingers tapping on the table came from the other end of the phone; it was Duke's habit when he was thinking.

Song Heping waited patiently.

He timed it perfectly—Hurmatu's crisis had reached Washington's doorstep, and he was the only one who could put out the fire in a short time.

Politics is the art of compromise, and he now holds the biggest bargaining chip.

“I need half an hour to consult,” Duke finally said. “I’ll give you an answer in half an hour. In the meantime… please do something to alleviate Hurmatu’s stress.”

“Okay.” Song Heping readily agreed. “My troops will begin attacking Tuz and Fehart in ten minutes. I also have a team waiting for orders near Titrick, ready to launch an attack at any time. But General, please remember—I’m not doing charity, I’m investing. Every bullet I invest will pay off in the future.”

After hanging up the phone, Song Heping looked at Jiang Feng: "Notify Nassin's Holy City Brigade to begin attacking Tuz and Fahiat. We will begin our operation in ten minutes according to 'Operation Snake Hunt.' The First Battalion is responsible for cutting off the rearguard of 1515, and the Second Battalion will harass the central route along the highway. Remember the principle: attack and withdraw quickly, never hold your ground, and use mobility to inflict casualties."

"Yes, sir!" Everyone in the command post stood at attention and answered.

　The second chapter is much longer, with a total of 9 words. I'm tired, so I'll take a break and continue writing later.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)