Baghdad Green Zone, US Joint Command Center.
Colonel Kote leaned back in the high-backed chair of the command post, his fingers rhythmically tapping the smooth armrest.
In front of him, six screens displayed real-time views of various angles of the northwest Illiguo battlefield. On the central screen, a convoy made up of over twenty armed pickups and a few armored vehicles was trapped in a wasteland.
"Colonel, latest intelligence."
Intelligence Officer Lieutenant Jenkins turned his head, excitement obvious on his face, "Song Heping's forces' radio communication has dropped by 70% in the last fifteen minutes, their UAV activity has completely ceased. Satellite thermal imaging shows that their vehicle cluster is tightening their defensive circle."
Kote's lips curved into a smile as he sipped his coffee from the table.
The rich aroma of Colombian coffee beans filled his mouth, an intoxicating satisfaction similar to what the current situation brought.
"Casualties?"
"According to drone surveillance, they've lost at least sixty armed pickups, and nearly twenty BTR-80 armored personnel carriers are disabled on site. More importantly..."
Jenkins brought up another set of data, "1515 Armed Forces' reinforcements have blocked all roads from Bayji to the Sinjar region. Song Heping is truly trapped now."
"Good! That's great!"
Kote nodded in satisfaction, his gaze shifting to a small window on the bottom right of the screen.
It was the monitoring log of Song Heping's communication channel—
In the past two hours, this channel sent seven emergency aid requests to the US command, with increasing frequency and urgency.
"They still refuse to give up?" Kote asked, his voice carrying undisguised sarcasm.
"Yes, Colonel. Three minutes ago, they sent another encrypted request, claiming if they don't get air support, they'll be wiped out within two hours."
Communications Officer Wilson replied.
Kote snorted, "Tell them, due to extreme weather conditions, all air support is temporarily unable to take off. Advise them to hold their ground and await rescue."
Suppressing a few light chuckles could be heard in the command center.
Everyone knew what Kote actually meant by "extreme weather conditions"—clear skies, visibility over ten miles, perfect weather for air strikes.
"Song Heping is truly in panic this time."
Major Miller, the operations officer, approached Kote, handing over a paper report, "We've intercepted their internal communication. Samir called Song Heping on the radio, suggesting a scatter-and-break tactic. Song Heping believes dispersing will lead to 1515 Armed Forces picking them off one by one, so he didn't agree."
Kote glanced at the report, his smile broadening:
"Scatter-and-break? In that kind of terrain? They'll be hunted down like rabbits."
He stood up, stepping over to the large tactical map, using a laser pointer to highlight the blue dots surrounded by red markers.
"Who does Song Heping think he is? That with just two elite mercenary camps he can establish his own kingdom in Northwest Illigo? He forgets who rules this territory."
The atmosphere in the command center was relaxed and cheerful.
Since being repeatedly toyed with by Song Heping previously, Kote and his supporters at the Pentagon had been waiting for such an opportunity.
An uncontrollable private military company operating in sensitive areas posed a potential threat to US strategic interests.
Now, using the 1515 Armed Forces to eliminate this problem, while allowing 1515 to be significantly weakened, the setup seemed almost too perfect.
"Colonel, drone reconnaissance shows 1515 Armed Forces is mobilizing heavy weapons."
An intelligence analyst suddenly reported, "They've brought in at least twenty 122mm howitzers from Mosul and are establishing artillery positions."
Kote squinted: "Location?"
"About eight kilometers from Song Heping's defensive perimeter, located in a concealed valley."
"Good." Kote nodded, "Inform the intelligence department to closely monitor, but take no action. This is a battle between Song Heping and 1515; we're not intervening."
His undertone was understood by all.
No intervention, until Song Heping and his forces are completely annihilated.
Time ticked by slowly.
On the command center's large screen, the red markers representing the 1515 Armed Forces surged towards the blue defensive circle like a tide.
In the high-definition images transmitted by drones, rocket and mortar shells could be clearly seen exploding on the Liberation Forces' positions, with black smoke columns rising skyward.
"Their defensive circle is shrinking," Jenkins reported, "The eastern line has been breached, and they're now engaged in some close-quarter combat."
Kote sat back in the command chair, arms crossed on his chest, a cold glint in his eyes.
He recalled the meeting with Song Heping two months ago.
He remembered how the Chinese mercenary leader had publicly humiliated him.
Now, this naive idealist was about to pay the price for his arrogance.
Kote could almost picture Song Heping's face at this moment—would that perpetually calm facade finally show expressions of despair for the first time?
Thinking of this, he couldn't help but break into a broad smile.
"Colonel!"
Jenkins suddenly raised his voice, with a hint of confusion, "Northern surveillance post reports abnormal activity."
Kote frowned, "What situation?"