"Don't get cocky, Song! I haven't lost yet!"
Lumar's voice roared over the satellite phone like a beast whose tail had been stepped on.
"Six brigades! I still have six entire brigades of armored units at my disposal! You think I've definitely lost?! You called just to mock me?! And you think you're qualified?!"
He was practically howling, "Don't forget! You're still the number one fugitive on the UN terrorist list! The British won't let you go! The Americans know you're alive, and they definitely won't spare you either..."
On the other end of the line, Song Heping didn't even have a chance to speak before Lumar completely lost control.
"What are you so agitated about?"
Song Heping's tone was as calm as ice water, instantly quenching the other's outburst of anger, "Winning or losing depends not on how loud you shout, but on strength."
He paused, each word like a precise bullet, aimed at Lumar's vital points:
