Chapter 1736 - 1354: Live Broadcast (Part 2)

Spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair was more frightening than death, for him.

But years of army life had helped him maintain an outward calm.

He looked deeply at Song Heping and nodded slowly.

"Whose people are you?"

He asked in a low voice, his steps already moving forward.

"The God of Wealth's people."

Song Heping said with a smile, applying a little more pressure with the gun barrel.

On both sides of the corridor, Ivan and Miroslav had already dealt with all six guards, dragging the bodies behind the fire cabinet and decorative plants.

The whole process took only twelve seconds.

Little Masoud emerged from behind the tool cart, pale but with determined eyes.

He took a deep breath and followed behind Rashid, replacing Song Heping, and pressed a gun to Rashid's vital spot.

Rashid didn't recognize him.

He only felt that this person seemed familiar.

The group quickly moved towards the studio door.

Inside the door, there was the sound of a busy crowd.

The staff were doing final adjustments, the live audience was whispering to each other, and the guards were maintaining order.

Song Heping leaned towards Rashid's ear, his voice icy:

"Go in, get on stage, and start your speech. But remember, if you say one wrong word, or try to send any signal, you will never see the sun tomorrow."

Rashid's Adam's apple moved, and he nodded.

The double doors of the studio were pulled open from the inside by the guards.

Seven o'clock sharp in the morning, Studio One.

The spotlights were dazzling, and the cameras were in place.

The fifty "audience" members sat upright.

At least twenty of them were Rashid's plainclothes agents.

Two fully armed guards stood on each side of the podium.

In the control room, the director was doing the final countdown.

Rashid walked to the podium with steady steps, his expression unchanged.

Song Heping and Jiang Feng mingled with the staff, standing in the shadows of the stage wings.

The barrels of their guns were hidden behind tool bags, always aimed at the figure on the podium.

Little Masoud hid behind the audio equipment on the other side, tightly clutching the USB stick containing the evidence.

The director's voice came through the internal communication system: "Thirty-second countdown. Commander Rashid, please prepare."

Rashid adjusted the microphone, his gaze sweeping across the room.

His eyes lingered for a moment on the shadows in the wings, then withdrew.

"Ten, nine, eight..."

Song Heping spoke softly into the headset: "General, are you ready?"

Tor Khan's voice came through, carrying a subtle tremble: "The control room is under control. We can cut the signal at any time."

"...Three, two, one. The live broadcast begins!"

All the cameras' red lights came on simultaneously.

Rashid took a deep breath, facing the camera, a look of sorrow appearing on his face:

"People of Kurdistan, today, with a heavy heart, I stand here..."

At this very moment—

Song Heping said into the microphone: "Cut the signal."

All the lights in the studio suddenly flickered at once!

It wasn't a blackout, but a rhythmic strobe.

This was the signal from Tor Khan in the control room.

Rashid's speech stopped abruptly.

He froze, instinctively looking toward the control room.

In less than two seconds of this pause—

Song Heping and Jiang Feng rushed out from the stage wings!

Moving as fast as lightning!

The guard on the left side of the podium just started to raise his gun when Jiang Feng's dagger cut across his throat. The right-side guard was struck in the throat by a heavy punch from Song Heping, collapsing softly.

The plainclothes agents in the audience reacted, all standing up to draw their guns.

But Ivan and Miroslav had already entered from the back, holding submachine guns taken from the tool cart.

"Don't move!"

Miroslav shouted in Eastern European-accented Arabic, sweeping the gun barrel across the room.

"Whoever moves dies!"

The plainclothes agents froze.

Song Heping already rushed onto the podium, pinning Rashid down, a pistol pressed against the back of his head.

Jiang Feng swiftly tied Rashid's hands and feet with plastic zip ties.

The entire process took only seven seconds.

The real civilian representatives among the audience began to let out low cries of terror.

Someone attempted to stand up and flee.

"Sit down!" Song Heping shouted into the microphone, his voice amplified through the sound system, deafening: "Anyone who doesn't want to die, sit down!"

The scene instantly fell silent.

In the control room, Tor Khan cut all the external broadcast signals.

The large screen turned to static.

The external signal was cut off, and the broadcast did not air as scheduled.

At that moment, all the television screens in households showed nothing but static.

But he kept the internal recording on.

All the cameras were still working, recording everything happening.

Song Heping grabbed Rashid by the hair and dragged him to the center of the podium.

Then he nodded towards the stage wings.

Little Masoud, who had removed his disguise, stepped out.

He walked towards the podium, his steps initially faltering, but growing steadier.

When he stood under the spotlight, facing the dark camera lenses, he straightened his back.

"My compatriots."

Little Masoud's voice spread throughout the studio through the microphone, still trembling slightly but remarkably clear.

"What you just saw was the last moment of lies before the truth was revealed."

He took a USB stick from his pocket and held it high:

"In here is evidence of the secret deal between Barzani and the government of Turkey. They plan to sell out our border security, allowing foreign troops to enter our land to eradicate the PPK Organization in exchange for recognition of their illegal regime."

He paused, looking directly at the main camera:

"And more importantly, the previous report about my father being killed by an Abu You Brigade Special Forces attack while inspecting Kirkuk, as claimed by Rashid and Barzani, is false. My father, President Masoud, is currently alive. He has been rescued by true friends of the Kurd Armed and sent to Baghdad Green Zone Hospital for treatment, and he is not in life-threatening condition!"