Chapter 1766 - 1364: Anxiety Upon Approaching Home (Part 3)

"Book me a ticket back to Country Z. The next available flight, even if it requires a transfer."

Milo was taken aback: "Boss, you're going back? Then the security arrangement..."

"No bodyguard. Just me alone."

"That's too dangerous! At least let me bring two people to follow..."

"My homeland is very safe," Song Heping interrupted him. "And I don't want to make a fuss. This time it's just a personal trip to go home and see the family."

Milo wanted to say something more, but seeing the look in Song Heping's eyes, he swallowed his words immediately: "I'll handle it right away."

"Also, don't tell anyone. Don't say anything to Jiang Feng over there either, I'll contact him once I arrive in the country."

"Understood."

After Milo left, Song Heping returned to the bedroom and took out a waterproof card case from his clothes pocket.

Inside was a family portrait taken many years ago.

The photo had turned yellow and the edges were worn.

Over the years, no matter where he went, he always kept it with him.

He looked at it for a while, then put the photo back and started packing his luggage.

The things to bring were simple.

A few sets of changeable clothes, all ordinary 511 tactical pants, outdoor shirts, fleece tops with no visible brand or price.

A sturdy pair of Salomon hiking shoes.

An old backpack.

An anonymous spare phone, a satellite phone, three black cards accepted worldwide, and a regular credit card.

Cash included both US Dollars and RMB, divided into small portions placed in different locations.

No weapons.

Definitely wouldn't dare to bring them domestically.

No luxury items.

He didn't like those things, nor did he need them to prove himself.

At dawn, Milo brought in the flight information.

"Today at 3 PM, Iran Air flies to Dubai, then transfer to Southern Airlines to GZ, then a domestic flight to the city airport where your hometown is. The entire trip is twenty-six hours."

"Alright."

"Boss, are you sure you don't need me..."

"No need." Song Heping patted his arm: "While I'm not here, the company's affairs here in Illiguo will temporarily be managed by Jiang Feng. You need to pay special attention to Samir over there, and contact me immediately if there's any abnormality."

"Yes."

At 2 PM, Baghdadi International Airport.

Song Heping wore ordinary khaki tactical pants, a dark gray outdoor T-shirt, covered with a checkered shirt, carrying the old backpack he had used for many years, blending inconspicuously in the crowd of travelers.

This outfit was intentionally chosen, both to meet the comfort needs of long-distance travel and to avoid attracting attention.

The exit procedures were smoother than expected.

The Illiguo customs officers just routinely checked his passport, visa, and departure stamp.

His special business passport from Illiguo was genuine, with multiple entry visas valid and complete departure procedures.

The officer didn't even ask another question, scanned the passport, confirmed there were no exit restrictions, and simply stamped it.

"Next."

The whole process took less than a minute.

Song Heping took back his passport, nodded calmly in thanks, and turned to walk towards the waiting area.

It wasn't until he walked more than ten meters away that his heartbeat truly calmed down.

The barrier of Baghdad, he had never really worried about.

Here, he was a respected "Mr. Song," a partner of the Ministry of Defense, a friend to quite a few members of parliament.

His company was legally registered, tax records clear, all documents of exchange with government departments complete.

His true concerns lay thousands of miles away.

Walking through the bustling waiting hall, he sat in a relatively quiet corner, his gaze sweeping over the diverse travelers.

Business clients, homecoming workers, international organization employees...

His fingers unconsciously rubbed the hard cover of his homeland's passport.

This little booklet symbolized his legal identity and was the only key to his birthplace.

The key could fit into the lock, but what awaited him behind the door, he himself did not know.

The "official pursuit" by Americans had long been lifted, a superficial reconciliation.

But what about the intelligence agency's internal observation lists?

Those remarks, associative analyses, risk assessments buried deep in databases...

These would not easily vanish.

What made him even more uneasy was his homeland's security department.

His increasingly active presence abroad over these years, especially in the complex Middle East, could not possibly escape the notice of relevant departments.

The PMC (private military contractor) background, intricate ties with various armed factions, business dealings in gray areas...

These were enough to pique the interest of any national security agency.

An ancient saying goes, the nearer to home, the greater the fear.

What he was experiencing now was a deeper layer of "fear"—the fear of unknown scrutiny and the concern over past secrets potentially being exposed.

Boarding the Iran Air flight, he chose a window seat in the economy class.

The plane taxied slowly, took off, and from the window, Baghdad's silhouette gradually shrank, eventually blending into the desolate land he had fought on for many years.

The Tigris River below reflected the sunset's gleam, like a winding scar, also like the vein of life.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to rest, but his thoughts galloped like a runaway wild horse, racing back to ten years ago.

The year he left home to enlist, his father sent him off at the train station, urging repeatedly, "Take care in the army, I'll take care of things at home!"

But in the end, his father couldn't hold on...

Later, he retired and ventured to Illiguo with Old Demon.

At first, things were fine, but then a roadside IED attack changed everything.

Later, he became a mercenary, then started dealing arms, and after that...

Anyway, there was nothing he wouldn't dare to do.

The money just kept growing.

How much was there now?

Song Heping couldn't even be bothered to look at the numbers in each account.

Once the money reached a certain amount, it really was just a series of numbers.