Chapter 1782 - 1369: The Northwest King's Return

July in Iraq, the hot wind is the unique breath of this land.

A wide-body Qatar Airways plane landed at Baghdad International Airport in the afternoon heat.

In the first-class cabin, Song Heping folded the newspaper he had finished reading and placed it aside.

As the cabin door opened, the flight attendants politely indicated for first-class passengers to proceed first. He picked up his bag, nodded slightly to the staff, and walked into the jet bridge ahead of some passengers who looked like businessmen in suits.

Entering the terminal, he did not follow most first-class passengers toward the fast track or airline's VIP service direction, but naturally merged into the main flow of people heading to the immigration hall like a regular traveler.

After picking up his luggage and passing through the last security check gate, he entered the arrival hall.

The hall was bustling with people, and the hubbub of various languages mixed together amidst a forest of pickup signs.

"Old squad leader, over here."

A voice came from the front left.

Jiang Feng, wearing ordinary sand-colored tactical pants and a dark T-shirt, stood there, having waited for quite some time.

Song Heping nodded and pushed the luggage cart over.

"Waited long?"

"Not really." Jiang Feng naturally took over the handle of the cart: "Car's outside. Everything okay on the way?"

"It was fine."

They walked side by side with the crowd towards the exit.

Outside the airport, the parking lot was hot and noisy, with dust swirling between car wheels.

They walked to a modified bulletproof SUV, where a bodyguard stepped forward to open the door and invited them inside.

A convoy of three SUVs drove out of the airport area, merging into the highway leading to the city.

"Let's talk about the recent situation with 1515."

Song Heping took a sip of mineral water.

Jiang Feng turned from the front passenger seat, handing over a tablet.

Song Heping took the tablet, his fingertips swiftly scrolling through the latest satellite images and intelligence summaries.

Quickly, his gaze became focused and sharp.

Jiang Feng said: "More troublesome than we expected. Ever since they suffered a big loss last time, 1515 has gotten smart, or, rather, more desperate."

On the screen, Sadam's hometown, Tikrit, this historical city on the banks of the Tigris River, now appeared unrecognizable.

Around the city, areas that once were farmlands and roads are now filled with suspected explosive device planting points marked by circles and triangles, forming a death zone several kilometers deep.

Main roads into the city are completely blocked by barricades of concrete debris, burnt vehicle wrecks, and sandbags, with crossfire networks formed between them.

Some key buildings, like the former provincial government building, hospital, and school, have rooftop and window positions repurposed into firing posts, with outlines of anti-aircraft guns or heavy machine guns vaguely visible.

Even more unsettling, in the city center and around several suspected command hub buildings, there are large clusters of thermal signals mixed with civilian buildings.

"These results were captured three days ago when a drone flew over at low altitude."

Jiang Feng pointed at those thermal signal points.

"The last messages from our contact within the city have been mostly confirmed. There are roughly fifteen thousand to twenty thousand organized fighters in the city, mostly die-hard foreign key members and locals who have been thoroughly brainwashed into fanatics. But more troublesome is this—"

His finger slid across the areas where the signals of fighters interlocked with civilian signal points.

"At least thirty thousand civilians are being detained within the city in various ways. They are concentrated in several areas, serving as human shields, labor force, and possibly as sources for 'human bombs'. 1515 has issued decrees that any civilian attempting to flee will be considered apostates and executed without mercy."

Song Heping's gaze penetrated the images on the screen, like he was seeing the scenes within the city.

Terror-stricken faces, desperate eyes, women and children trembling under the dark muzzles of extremist guns, and those fighters whose anger is ignited by hatred and distorted teachings.

He suddenly felt guilty.

An unfounded guilt.

All along, he has prioritized strategic objectives and his company's interests, but he seems to never have considered what 1515's existence means to ordinary people of Illiguo.

Ever since the second Gulf War, the land of Illiguo has never been peaceful, with the Americans, Kurds, Persians, local forces, and PMC companies like his competing for interests.

But no one cared about the ordinary people.

Indeed…

In times of war, who cares about the common folk?

But as someone born in New Dongda and raised under the red flag, the moral bottom line still made Song Heping feel guilty.

But soon, he gathered his thoughts.

Sympathy is useless; practical action requires strength.

This world operates by the law of the jungle.

"How about Abu You and Samir?"

Song Heping handed back the tablet, looking at the rapidly retreating scenes outside the car window.

The armored vehicle had exited the airport area, entering the Baghdad urban district.

On both sides of the street were buildings destroyed by war or partially abandoned, with posters of various political and religious leaders hanging on the walls, mostly torn and tattered.

Armed soldiers in different uniforms stationed at ubiquitous checkpoints inspected vehicles, creating a tense and oppressive atmosphere.

Several ragged children rummaged through a pile of building rubble for recyclable plastic and metal, their eyes vacant.

"The notice is out. Tonight at eight, Hulmatu Command Headquarters, emergency meeting."

Jiang Feng quickly answered.

"Abu You has some matters to handle in Kirkuk, but he replied that he can definitely make it on time. Samir's troops are currently stationed in Mosul and can come over at any time. As for the Persian Holy City Brigade's Naxin…"