Chapter 1657 - 1324: Journey to the Parliament (Part 2)

Dust, car exhaust, the faint fishy smell of the Tigris River, and a certain indescribable city atmosphere blended from ruins and reconstruction.

It was already past nine when they arrived. Next to the helipad, Yusuf was waiting there with a small team.

The astute politician was dressed today in an impeccably ironed robe, standing amidst a group of fully armed private security, appearing both incongruous and harmonious.

The security personnel wore matching black tactical uniforms, sunglasses on, vigilantly scanning the surroundings.

Outside the helipad, two US Army soldiers leaned against a Hummer, watching the scene with indifference.

"My dear cousin!"

Yusuf opened his arms and greeted Samir with the enthusiastic embrace typical of the Illigos, kissing him once on each cheek, his stubble rough on the skin.

"Baghdad welcomes the triumphant hero!"

Then he turned to Song Heping, gripping his hand with extra strength, the handshake lasting two seconds longer than normal etiquette.

"Boss Song, was the journey smooth?"

"It was relatively smooth." Song Heping replied simply, his gaze already sweeping through the surroundings: sniper positions on three vantage points, two armored SUVs parked at the helipad entrance, with special pass license plates, windows covered with dark explosion-proof film.

Typical Green Zone setup—safe, yet countless undercurrents surged beneath the safety.

The convoy comprised three modified Lexus 570s and several armored SUVs, Yusuf and the two others sharing the middle vehicle.

Passed through the first checkpoint.

Reinforced concrete barriers, serpentine barbed wire, three-meter-high blast walls.

The Illigo soldiers checked the documents expressionlessly, but when they saw Samir's name, their eyes slightly flickered.

The second checkpoint was manned by US soldiers, who were more relaxed, even joked with the driver, but the red lights of the scanning equipment meticulously moved over the vehicle chassis.

Entering the interior of the Green Zone, the scenery drastically changed.

Wide shaded avenues, meticulously trimmed lawns, government buildings under reconstruction adorned with fresh marble.

Occasionally, armed US soldiers could be seen on rooftops on guard, but more commonly, suited civilian staff hurried past.

At the outdoor seats of a café, several Western journalists sat, semi-empty coffee cups beside their laptops.

This area seemed like another piece of land torn from Illigo, orderly, neat, falsely tranquil.

"Is the speech ready?"

Yusuf asked while wiping the sweat off his forehead with a silk handkerchief.

The car's air conditioning was at full blast, but dark sweat stains still showed through the back of his robe.

Samir nodded, taking out the crumpled notes from his pocket.

"As Boss suggested, brief and direct."

Yusuf's smile became somewhat forced; he glanced at Song Heping, seemingly seeking confirmation.

"Regarding that... proposal to integrate into the Defense Army, there are some things I need to inform you about in advance. Originally thought to mention it before the meeting starts, but I feel you need to be psychologically prepared."

He lowered his voice, despite the excellent soundproofing in the car.

"The Americans have indeed expressed support; General Duke personally called the speaker yesterday declaring 'support for any measures enhancing Illigo's security capabilities.' But procedurally, the military's proposal must be voted on in a plenary session of the parliament, requiring a simple majority to pass."

Song Heping's gaze sharpened. "Resistance?"

"Quite a lot." Yusuf sighed, taking out a list from his briefcase, showing the distribution of the parliament's 328 seats marked in Arabic and English.

"Mainly the Kurd people. They hold 58 seats in the parliament, the Kurdistan Democratic Party, Patriotic Alliance, Change Movement… these parties are almost unanimously opposed. Additionally, some Sunni sect MPs also echo — a few elders in the 'National Power Alliance' have privately expressed non-support."

Samir slammed his fist against the car door, producing a dull thud.

"Didn't the Americans support us? They should apply pressure—"

"There's no such thing as should or shouldn't, ostensibly, the Americans have fulfilled their promise."

Song Heping calmly interrupted him, seemingly unsurprised.

"Duke supported the proposal, that's his agreement with me; he only expressed support, didn't promise you would definitely integrate successfully. Wielding interference in Illigos' internal affairs as a guise is very apt—at least ostensibly. As for internal parliamentary issues, they adopt a 'non-hindrance and non-active assistance' attitude. In the future, if it doesn't pass, they can shirk responsibility: we've already supported, it's you Illigos yourselves who don't agree."

Yusuf nodded repeatedly.

"Exactly, Song you're very correct, the Americans now have this attitude. Whether the proposal can pass has now become our own problem. I've tried... contacting some opposing MPs..."

He made an obscure gesture, rubbing his thumb against his index and middle fingers, making a money-counting motion.

"But it's not much use, the Kurds occupy parts of the oil fields in Elbil and Kirkuk, economically self-sufficient. The Kurdistan Autonomous Region's annual oil revenue exceeds 8 billion US Dollars, they don't lack money."

"What they lack is a sense of security."

Song Heping gazed out the window, his eyes profound like the deep waters of the Tigris River.

"But it's not merely military security. Think about Kurdistan's current geopolitical situation—north is Turkey, northeast is Persia, both countries harbor hostility towards Kurd independence movements. West is Siria, where Kurdish people are battling the Hafez Regime and Turkmen. And the south? Originally controlled by the Eligo Central Government, if Samir controlled the Northwest and became regular army..."

Yusuf picked up the conversation: "Exactly, that means Kurdistan will be trapped on all sides. North is Persians, east, south, west are led by Shiite forces. Once Samir grows stronger, in the future, whether the Kurds want to fight for greater autonomy or maintain their current status, they will depend on others. This isn't merely a military threat; it's geopolitical suffocation."

Samir understood but became even angrier: "So they'd rather see the remnants of 1515 reorganized? Rather the Northwest fall into chaos? Than see my troops integrated into the defense establishment? Damn! These Kurds! Historically thieves! Robbers! Exiles! They have no emotion towards the country they belong to!"

"Because chaos benefits them."

Song Heping turned to Samir, his tone like instructing fresh recruits.

"Chaos means the central government is incapable of consolidation, allowing Kurds to remain in an actual independent state. And you, Samir, you represent something they fear most. A strong Illigos government isn't a good thing for them. Even if you now claim to focus solely on anti-terrorism, once you become regular army, your troops then represent the extension of national authority."

The convoy approached the Parliament Building.

An imposing yet bullet-riddled Othman-style structure, the marble pillars of the main gate still bore the marks of a 2013 car bomb attack — cracks spread like spider webs, parts of the stone carvings blackened.

The level of security was evidently high.

Cement barriers, armed Hummers, police wearing heavy bulletproof vests.

The reporter area was already crowded, long and short lenses aimed at the convoy.

"The speech is at exactly ten in the morning." Yusuf reminded for the last time: "There will be a brief press conference afterward; remember, only address the prepared content. Be cautious when journalists bring up sensitive issues, especially Kurdish issues, sectarian conflicts, the role of the United States, and similar topics—all replied to with 'currently focusing on anti-terrorism missions, not concerned about other matters.'"

Samir took a deep breath, adjusted his armband.

He could feel his heart heavily pounding in his chest, not the adrenaline surge when facing gunfire, but a strange, unsettling tension.

Song Heping patted his shoulder, without saying anything.