Go back in time and be a chaebol

Chapter 2487 War-torn Zone (Second Update, Please Subscribe)

There is nothing new under the sun.

Power and wealth are like twins, always intertwined in their own way; in any case, this is the true nature of the world.

Ordinary people can have beautiful fantasies about the world, but reality always needs to be faced. It's not about indulging in some kind of fantasy.

Money can play its proper role wherever it is used, as long as it is used properly.

As a Pulitzer Prize winner, Halberstam is undoubtedly a realist who is very clear about the rules of how this world works.

Just like now, when the car was stopped by a checkpoint of the Lebanese government forces, Haberstam handed over a so-called pass.

The pass was actually just a form, but a fifty-dollar bill was tucked inside the form.

Although the form was expired, after seeing the banknote, the officer first glanced at the three people in the car, then looked to his left and right, and said:
"Be careful, the area beyond this point is controlled by militants, and it's very chaotic there."

While giving his instructions, the officer waved his hand and said something else.

"Let go!"

"Thank you, sir."

After expressing his gratitude, Adam, who was driving the car, stepped on the gas and passed through the checkpoint.

After the examination, Daniel asked:
"Adam, are we safe now?"

"No, Daniel, this is the most dangerous time for us."

Halberstam knew very well what places were safe and what places were dangerous.

Even though the military imposes various restrictions on them, their safety is not an issue under military control.

But what about now?
They left the military-controlled area and entered the area controlled by militants and the Syrian army.

Their safety could not be guaranteed.

Even so, he still came to this dangerous land without hesitation, because only here could he find the truth.

Find the truth that will interest the audience.

The SUV rolled over the cratered dirt road, kicking up dust mixed with the smell of diesel fuel that seeped into the cargo area. Halberstam kept glancing out the window; he had gone to great lengths to get in here.

Adam is a Beirut native and the guide introduced by a friend. He used to be a taxi driver who traveled around, but due to the war, it was difficult to make a living by driving a taxi.

But he was very familiar with the roads in various places, which was also the reason he was hired.

Having a driver and a car is one thing, but a permit is still needed.

Now that Halberstam has actually entered this dangerous area, what does he feel?
Is it fear?

Not!
It's not about the expectation of news.

What organization planned the London terrorist attacks?
Who launched the shelling of Beirut International Airport, which is controlled by the coalition forces?
Everything is intriguing, but where is the answer?
right here!

As the car entered the Beka Valley, a sea of ​​flowers came into view. Daniel, sitting beside him, was clearly stunned by the beautiful floral display and quickly exclaimed:
"My God, this is so beautiful!"

"It's very beautiful; it should be a flower!"

Adam lowered his voice, his hands gripping the steering wheel, and said angrily:

"In the past, wheat was grown here, but what about now? After those people took our land, they planted poppies here. They manufacture drugs in our churches and then sell them to Europe and America to buy weapons and continue to expand their territory..."

While listening to Adam's story, Halberstam shook his head and said as Daniel took the photos:
"There's no need to film these things. Americans don't care about what's grown here; what they care about is how the people here fight against tyranny!"

Halberstam's words startled Daniel. To fight against power... But in the next instant, he understood that it wasn't about fighting against power, but rather the common psychology of the people—everyone has a heroic complex.

Fighting terrorists is inherently boring news, but what if it were a group of weak, even vulnerable, ordinary people fighting against a superpower?

This Don Quixote-like act of rushing into the mill may seem foolish, but ordinary people love to watch it!
As journalists, what they need to do is provide this kind of news.

Because he only spoke French, Adam didn't know what they were saying, and he reminded them as the car continued to move.

“Mr. Halberstam, we will encounter militants in a while. They are heavily guarded. Remember, no matter what happens, do not speak.”

The midday sun was scorching and blinding, distorting the outlines of distant villages in the heat. The SUV had just entered the checkpoint, and before Adam could even open the gate, several gunshots shattered the silence.

Before Halberstam could react, the car door was violently pulled open, and a dark gun barrel was pressed against his forehead.

"Don't move!"

The gunmen at the checkpoint roared with heavy accents, and the metallic chill of the AK-47s seeped into his bones. Daniel had just been dragged out of the car when one of the gunmen kicked him to the ground, shattering his camera into pieces.

"We are American journalists!" Halberstam shouted as he struggled to break free, trying to protect himself by asserting his identity.

"We're here to conduct an interview, we mean no harm! We will share your heroic resistance with the world..."

Before he could finish speaking, Halberstam saw the lead armed man point a pistol at Adam's head.

"Lebanese? Christian?"

Before Adam could answer, the leader pulled the trigger. Then a muffled gunshot rang out.

Halberstam stood frozen in place, watching as Adam's head was pierced through. Even as Adam fell, Halberstam's eyes remained wide open in disbelief as his body collapsed to the ground.

Blood and brain matter splattered out, covering Haberstam's face and shirt, carrying a disgusting, fishy smell.

Time seemed to stand still.

Halberstam could feel the blood dripping down his chin; it was incredibly hot, yet it made his whole body feel ice-cold.

He had witnessed the cruelty of the battlefield and the plight of displaced refugees. As a war correspondent, he had seen far too many of these things.

But I have never seen such blatant barbarity—simply because he was a local guide, Adam became a victim of this scare tactic.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His mind was blank, and only his heart was pounding wildly. He didn't know what he was about to face.

Daniel was too shocked to speak. He was only in his early twenties and had just graduated from university. In his eyes, the world was a wonderful place, but what he saw before him completely overturned his beliefs.

"An American journalist?"

The armed man, who appeared to be the leader, stepped forward, used the muzzle of his gun to lift Halberstam's chin, and scanned his blood-stained face. His English was fluent, even with a London accent.

It's like a hunter watching its prey!
The fear of death gripped Halberstam instantly; he snapped back to reality and cried out urgently:
"I am David Halberstam! A reporter for The New York Times, a Pulitzer Prize winner! I have a great influence throughout the United States!"

He spoke rapidly, trying to use his identity to buy himself a chance to survive, and said to the terrorists:
"You need a voice, and I can help you. Don't kill me! I will show the whole world how bravely you resisted the invasion of Western countries!"

The militant let out a low, mocking laugh, a laugh devoid of any reverence, only a mockery of his prey, as if laughing at its overestimation of its own strength.

In the face of a hunter, does the prey have any room for negotiation?

"Pulitzer Prize?"

The leader tore off the black veil covering his face, revealing his features, which were typical of the Middle East.
“Mr. Halberstam, you’ve got it wrong. What we need right now isn’t journalists, we need leverage.”

Halberstam's heart sank, as if he had fallen into a bottomless glacier. He immediately realized what he had become.

After all, some American journalists had similar experiences in Saigon—being kidnapped!

Then it became a bargaining chip for the guerrillas to extort money!
"Take them back!"

The leader waved his hand, and two armed men immediately stepped forward and tied Haberstam and Daniel's hands behind their backs.

While being kidnapped, Halberstam shouted:
"What do you want? Is it money? My newspaper is definitely willing to pay..."

They all have field insurance, and the insurance company will cover the cost.

“Haberstam, we are not thieves, we are warriors, and our demand is simple—we need the coalition forces to withdraw from Lebanon immediately!”

His voice was calm, and when he looked at Haberstam, there was no emotion in his eyes.

"Otherwise, the renowned Pulitzer Prize winner, Mr. Halberstam, will be the next one to bleed."

The cold ropes dug into his wrists, and Halberstam was forcibly dragged forward.

Adam's body still lay on the ground, his eyes wide open, as if he couldn't believe what had happened even in death.

Halberstam was also at a loss, hearing Daniel's anxious shouts in his ears.

"David, David, what do we do now? What do we do?"

How to do?
Halberstam didn't realize that he had once thought his identity as a journalist would be a shield. But now, harsh reality slapped him hard in the face.

In this land consumed by war, the rules of civilization have vanished, and his identity ultimately became nothing more than a bargaining chip for terrorists to blackmail the coalition forces.

The SUV engine roared to life again, and Halberstam was pushed onto the back of another pickup truck, left to rot like a dead dog as the terrorists trampled on him.

Outside the car, the ruins receded into the distance, while Halberstam, lying inside, knew he was in grave danger, his fate uncertain, and filled with deep despair.

The reason he was in despair was because he knew very well that the Allied forces would not withdraw their troops for their lives!
(End of this chapter)