Chapter 1737 - 1354: Livestream (Part 3)

The sound of gasps filled the studio.

"At this very moment, I believe he has regained consciousness and will likely appear before everyone soon."

Little Masoud seemed to have found his stride, his voice growing stronger.

"My father's assassination was a blatant conspiracy, a shameless murder orchestrated by Barzani and his accomplices in their attempt to seize this country. But their plot failed."

He pointed at Rashid, who was pinned to the ground: "This man, along with Barzani behind him, are the real traitors!"

Meanwhile, outside the television station.

The urgent sirens echoed through the entire district.

A Major named Kadir, Rashid's Security Forces Commander, frantically called over the intercom: "The studio is in trouble! All units, assault the television station immediately! Repeat, attack at once!"

At the main entrance of the station, the engines of four armored personnel carriers roared, carrying at least eighty fully armed Security Forces soldiers.

Machine gunners were already in position, guns aimed at the television station building.

"Prepare to assault!" Major Kadir drew his pistol, "First team, frontal breakthrough! Second team, flank from the side—"

Just then, his words came to an abrupt halt.

At the end of the street, the barrels of three main battle tanks slowly turned the corner.

Following them were a dozen armored personnel carriers, bearing the emblem of the Third Infantry Brigade on their sides.

The hatch of a tank turret opened, and Colonel Muhammad, General Tor Khan's confidant, emerged, holding a loudspeaker:

"Soldiers of the Security Forces! Lay down your arms! Rashid and Barzani's conspiracy has been exposed! President Masoud is about to be reinstated! Stop spilling blood for the traitors!"

Major Kadir's face turned grim: "Fire! Fire!"

The machine gunners of the Security Forces pulled the trigger, bullets clanging against the tank armor, sparking.

Colonel Muhammad ducked back into the turret, ordering over the radio: "Counterattack."

The main gun of the leading tank slightly adjusted its angle—

Boom!

A high-explosive shell hit the foremost armored personnel carrier of the Security Forces.

In front of the tank, the light-armored personnel carrier was like a paper toy.

The armored vehicle was blown into the air, finally crashing back onto the street, bursting into flames.

The coaxial machine gun of the second tank began to sweep, bullets pelting the Security Forces' positions like a torrential downpour.

Soldiers of the Third Infantry Brigade charged out from behind the armored vehicles, firing from cover.

The street instantly transformed into a battlefield.

Bullets flew, and explosions sounded continuously.

The soldiers of the Security Forces were pinned down behind cover by the intense firepower of the infantry brigade, suffering heavy casualties.

Major Kadir hid behind sandbags, shouting into the intercom: "We need reinforcements! Need—"

A sniper round fired from a distant building hit him precisely in the forehead.

The major fell backward, the intercom slipping from his hand, clattering to the ground.

With the loss of command, the Security Forces' resistance crumbled quickly.

Some soldiers threw down their weapons and surrendered, while others tried to flee, only to be taken down by crossfire.

In just fifteen minutes, the battle outside the television station was essentially over.

The Third Infantry Brigade took control of the entire district, beginning to clear the battlefield and detain prisoners.

Colonel Muhammad climbed out of the tank, surveying the war-torn street, reporting over the radio: "General, the perimeter is secure. The television station is safe."

Inside Studio One.

Little Masoud's speech was nearing its end.

The red lights of cameras, like unblinking eyes, coldly recorded everything.

Beads of sweat appeared on Little Masoud's forehead, his throat was a bit dry, but he seemed to become more and more engaged:

"...Therefore, I urge all Kurdish soldiers, all members of the Security Forces, to immediately lay down their arms and stop resisting. The true enemy is not your compatriots, but those traitors who betray the country and assassinate the legitimate president! History will remember this day, remember who stood on the side of justice, and who chose betrayal!"

At this moment, the heavy soundproof door of the studio turned.

All eyes were instantly drawn to it.

Tor Khan Alisan stood at the entrance.

The studio fell into an eerie silence, even the sound of breathing became distinctly audible.

Tor Khan ignored the shocked gazes, walking straight to the podium.

Little Masoud paused his speech, watching Tor Khan approach.

Standing beside Little Masoud, Tor Khan lowered his voice: "Your father has awakened."

Little Masoud's body visibly shuddered.

"He just regained consciousness at the Baghdad Green Zone Hospital."

Tor Khan continued: "The US side contacted us, saying President Masoud requested to speak with the nation immediately. We can connect—right now, here."

"The technical team is under our control. They can restore the signal and cut the images of the ward in. The question is: do you want to connect?"

Little Masoud hardly hesitated.

He felt a surge of electricity running from his spine straight to his brain, an overwhelming joy rising up.

He nodded, his voice trembling slightly with excitement:

"Connect. Connect immediately."

Tor Khan turned and gestured towards the direction of the control room.

Barzani's men in the studio began to stir uneasily.

A middle-aged man in a suit stood up, trying to protest: "You can't change the broadcast content without authorization! That's against—"

Tor Khan didn't even look at him, just slightly tilted his head to the soldier beside him.

The soldier stepped forward, the muzzle of the rifle in his hand slightly raised.

The protester's words stuck in his throat, and he went pale as he sat back down.

"Signal restoration in progress." The technical staff in the control room reported: "We need thirty seconds to connect to the Green Zone Hospital's line."

These three minutes were probably the longest thirty seconds in Little Masoud's life.

The atmosphere in the studio stretched to the extreme, as if it could snap at any moment.

Tor Khan's soldiers watched every corner vigilantly, while Barzani's men were on pins and needles.

They knew that once Old Masoud appeared on national television, the coup was utterly failed.

"Signal connection successful!"

The control room reported.

The screen in the studio that originally showed the interior of the studio suddenly switched.

Baghdad Green Zone Hospital, ward.

The image was initially blurry, then gradually cleared.

The first thing that came into view was the white walls and medical equipment.

Masoud leaned against the hospital bed, slowly lifted his eyes, and stared directly into the camera.

"My compatriots."

Just four words stopped the entire studio's breathing.

The true citizen representatives covered their mouths, tears streaming down.

"One day ago, someone attempted to silence me with missiles and bullets."

Old Masoud continued: "They thought killing me would kill the hope of this country. They were wrong."

He paused, took a breath, and continued: "I saw how those traitors seized power, how they tarnished our ideals with lies for which we've shed blood. Barzani—"

When he uttered this name, his voice was full of cold contempt.

"You and your accomplices betrayed every soul that fought for Kurdistan's freedom."

In the studio, Little Masoud's hand, gripping the edge of the podium, was trembling.

"Now I tell you the truth."

Old Masoud's voice suddenly rose.

"I am alive. The legitimate president of Kurdistan is alive and fighting! Those usurpers are the ones who should be judged!"

"I declare in the name of the legitimate president of Kurdistan—"

His voice suddenly became bright and authoritative, completely unlike someone who has just awoken from serious injury.

"Relieve Barzani of all his duties! Relieve Rashid and his cohorts of all their duties! All security forces members, I command you to immediately lay down your arms and surrender to the Third Infantry Brigade! Repeat, surrender immediately!"

The studio was silent.

Then, the sound of suppressed sobbing came from the corner, followed by applause, which quickly spread.

True citizen representatives stood up, waving their arms, shouting Masoud's name loudly.

"Masoud!"

"Masoud!"

"Masoud!"

Barzani's men looked ashen.

Some tried to sneak away, but were stopped immediately by Tor Khan's soldiers.

Tor Khan walked to Little Masoud's side: "The signal has been fully restored. We've taken control of all transmission equipment at the national TV station. Now the whole country can see your father's speech."

Little Masoud nodded and turned to the camera: "You've heard the President's voice! This is not a recording; it's not fabricated; it's real! Now, every Kurdistan citizen knows the truth!"

He took a deep breath: "I call upon all military and security forces members loyal to the constitution, to act immediately! Arrest the traitors around you! Control key facilities! Await further orders from the President's Mansion!"

In different corners of Elbil, the same scene was playing on household television screens.