Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1327 Those in leadership positions must know how to make grand promises.
The phone rang twice before being connected.

Abuyu's rough, hoarse voice came from the other end, accompanied by the rhythmic roar of oil pumping units in the oil field:
"Mr. Song. You called me, I guess it's because things aren't going well in Baghdad, right?"

“We need to talk.” Song Heping skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point: “About the oil fields in Kirkuk… yes, the other half, those on the border between your territory and the Erbil regime’s control. I think it’s time to consider taking them over.”

He paused, allowing Abuyu to process the meaning of his words.

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, and the background machine noise seemed to fade into the distance.

Abuyu may have gone to a relatively quiet place.

"Those oil fields..."

Abuyu's voice became cautious, each word seeming to have been carefully considered.

“It produces 40,000 barrels a day, accounting for 60% of Kirkuk’s total output. But there are two battalions of the Erbil Autonomous Government stationed there, and they are well-equipped. To touch that place would be to touch the core interests of the entire Kold’s Autonomous Council.”

He paused again, and then voiced his real concerns.

“Although I have fallen out with them, I am still a Kolde after all. Taking over the territory of my own people… that would make me a traitor. In Kolde society, betraying one’s own people is the most serious crime.”

This is the sentence that Song Heping and others said.

"traitor?"

He chuckled softly, a hint of mockery in his voice.

“Abuyu, tell me, what are you in the eyes of those committee lords in Erbil?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone, only heavy breathing could be heard.

"Why did you leave Erbil to join me before? It was because your forces grew too fast and seized the interests of the Barzani family. It was because you were unwilling to hand over all the revenue from the oil fields you controlled to the committee."

Song Heping's words grew sharper with each one.

"They ostracized you, marginalized you, and eventually forced you to leave with your own people. From that day on, you were already a traitor in their eyes."

He ruthlessly punctured Abuyu's self-comfort.

"You've already earned the reputation of a traitor. The only difference is whether you're a weak traitor, forced to cower in southern Kirkuk and eke out a living, or a powerful traitor who forces them to acknowledge you and even accept you."

Abuyu's breathing became heavy: "Mr. Song, what you're saying—"

“Let me finish,” Song Heping interrupted him. “This operation isn’t just helping Samir, it’s helping you too. Do you want to be a marginalized local warlord forever, guarding a few oil wells and living at Erbil’s beck and call? Or do you want to return to the center of power, have a real seat on the autonomous council, and let your people speak with dignity in Erbil?”

"You want me to go to war with the committee?" Abuyu raised his voice: "With just a few thousand men like mine?"

"What are you afraid of? Let's start a war!"

Song Heping's tone suddenly hardened.

“You only have a few thousand men, but what about me? What about Samir? You have the resources of the entire ‘Musician’ defense force behind you. And you need to see the current situation clearly. The Kold’s forces lost several thousand men in the previous ‘Balance Beam’ operation, and their morale is low. Their main force is simply not enough to hold the oil fields west of Kirkuk.”

He slowed his speech, making each word feel like a nail hammering into Abuyu's heart:

"You suddenly took control of the entire Kirkuk oil field, leaving them with only two choices: either launch a counterattack at a huge cost, or sit down and negotiate. If they want to fight, they'll have to weigh their strength. They might be able to defeat you, but could they defeat you plus me plus Samir plus the Quds Force? Tell me, are they willing to negotiate, or are they willing to lose the entire Kirkuk?"

Abuyu's breathing became heavier on the other end of the phone.

"Imagine that situation."

Song Heping continued to paint a picture, making grand promises to his subordinate.

"You control all the oil fields in Kirkuk, and Samir controls the northwestern passage. Where will Kurdistan be then? To the east, south, and west, it will be our sphere of influence. They need to understand who the real power holder is on this land. And I can act as a mediator and talk to them, just as I sent Samir to the Ministry of Defense, I'll send you into the core of power in Erbil."

Abuyu remained silent for a full half minute.

Song Heping waited patiently, listening to the faint noises from the oil field and heavy breathing coming from the other end of the phone.

"The core of power..."

Abuyu finally spoke, his voice revealing a long-suppressed desire.

"You mean, you want me to be part of the pro-Baghdad faction on the committee?"

"Which one you kiss or not is your choice."

Song Heping corrected him, “But you must become a force that the committee must value. Samir enters the defense force system, and you return to the core of power in Erbil. In the future, the northwest will be your ally, not a threat. At that time, you will have bargaining chips in terms of oil revenue distribution, border control, and the future political status of Koldistan. Isn’t that better than being an isolated oil field warlord now?”

"But what if the committee chooses to launch a direct attack?"

Abuyu raised one last concern: "What if they're willing to shed blood to take back the oil fields?"

“Then let them come.” Song Heping’s voice turned cold. “What you can’t get on the battlefield, you can’t get at the negotiating table either. I’ve already prepared the maximum support for you through ‘Musician’s’ defense. The Kurds haven’t recovered from the failure of Operation Balance Beam, and after Colonel Kurt’s suicide, US support for them is also weakening. It’s the perfect time to strike while they’re weak. If they’re smart, they’ll choose to negotiate; if they’re stupid, then we’ll teach them a lesson.”

There was another moment of silence.

Then Abuyu asked, “Now we need an excuse. Border friction? Smuggling allegations? Or…”

"Sometimes, in the eyes of the dominant party, excuses are easy to find. Just like a wolf wants to eat a sheep, does it need an excuse? Not even one!"

Song Heping laughed and said, "Besides, conflicts will always happen naturally in sensitive areas, especially when both sides are tense. A tanker truck that runs a checkpoint, a misunderstanding-based interception, or an accidental clash is enough."

The call lasted twenty-five minutes.

Song Heping provided a detailed analysis of each variable: the actual troop strength of the Kold's forces in Kirkuk; the equipment superiority of the Abuyu Brigade; the internal divisions within the Kold's leadership—the Barzani family, the Talabani family, and the emerging reformist faction; the subtle stance of the Americans; and the trend of international oil prices…

Each statement is true, but when put together, they create an alluring picture.

Abuyu is no longer an exile, but a king returning to the center of power, becoming an undeniable force in the Kolde region.

Before hanging up the phone, Abuyu, his blood boiling, asked one last time, "Mr. Song, what exactly do you want from all this?"

Song Heping looked out the window at the Tigris River.

On the river, a U.S. patrol boat was going upstream, the Stars and Stripes on its stern fluttering weakly in the hot wind.

Further away, traffic crawled slowly across the Republic Bridge, with each security check potentially taking half an hour.

This is Iligo, a country torn apart by war and forcibly stitched back together.

"I want a stable place."

He said it in a calm and sincere tone.

“And a stable territory requires a stable Iligo. A stable Iligo is in your interest, mine, Samir's, and our friends'. Do you understand?”

A deep laugh came from the other end of the phone: "Heh, Mr. Song, you really know how to talk. You want to seize power, but you also want to say it's for everyone's good."

“Isn’t that what politics is all about?” Song Heping laughed. “Disguising selfish motives as public good. The key is that my promise to you is real: return to Erbil, have a seat and power. As for the rest, each gets what they need.”

“Alright.” Abuyu let out a long sigh, as if he had made up his mind: “I will proceed as planned. But remember your promise to let me return to Erbil, not as a fringe figure, but as a player of significance.”

"I never break a promise."

After hanging up the phone, Song Heping downed his already cold coffee in one gulp.

A bitter taste lingers in the mouth, followed by a faint sweet aftertaste.

He looked at the television; the reporters had already left, and Samir and Yusuf got into a black SUV, preparing to return to the hotel.

Today's battle has temporarily ended, but the real game has just begun.

He opened the encrypted communication software on his phone; the interface had a simple black background and white text.

Enter a short message: "Start the plan. Stay in touch and wait for my signal."

The recipient was not Abuyu, but Jiang Feng, the head of the "Musician" defense company in the Baiji region.

The message reads "Sent, encryption level: mole".

Song Heping deleted the sending history and put his phone back in his pocket.

A river breeze brought a slight coolness, but the heat of Baghdad remained as heavy as a blanket, tightly enveloping every inch of skin.

Song Heping leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

He recalled the military training he had received many years ago in the jungles of southern China.

At that time, he was a pre-selected trainee and participated in the multi-party confrontation exercise of Unit 203.

His instructor, Lei Ming, once said, "Stir up the water first! If the water is clear, the fish can see you; if the water is muddy, you can catch the fish."

Sometimes, the best way to solve a problem is to create a bigger problem elsewhere.

That way you can disrupt your opponent's formation and take advantage of the chaos.

"Stir up the waters first..."

He couldn't help but laugh.

　Fourth update!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)