Go back in time and be a chaebol

Chapter 2676 Come and hit me! Come and hit me! (First update, please subscribe)
The fate of a nation was thus so easily decided.

Those whose fates have already been decided have no idea about any of this.

Tehran had no idea that their fate had already been decided. While the whole world was preparing a grand feast for them, Tehran had already extended an invitation to the banquet.

It wasn't just that he sent out invitations; he hurriedly stripped naked and jumped directly into the food.

The pilot defection was like a thunderbolt, causing an earthquake across the entire Persian Plateau—hundreds of fighter jets and transport planes defected to neighboring countries under the pilots' command, leaving behind not only empty hangars but also the regime's panic over the loss of control over the military.

The official statement was quickly released, its language harsh, but it couldn't hide their underlying weakness:
“Any country that accepts traitors will face a swift and severe retaliation from Iran,” “Iraq must immediately return all defector aircraft or face the consequences,” and “We warn Baghdad not to make a choice it will regret.”

The strongly worded statement seemed to be telling the world that if the plane was not returned, they would face a thunderous retaliation.

However, instead of the expected "thunderous retaliation," the outside world witnessed a major purge within Iran.

While newspapers and television news were still clamoring to "crush foreign conspiracies," prison gates were already wide open for countless pilots. Armed militiamen searched house to house, forcibly taking away any pilot who had even had contact with the defectors, or even just been reported for "suspicious behavior." The clatter of handcuffs, the cries of family members, and the shouts of the militiamen mingled together, becoming the most jarring background noise in Tehran during that period.

Sarit was one of them. As a pilot, he had received training in the United States. He was one of the best pilots in Iran.

However, like many pilots, he is now a prisoner.

Compared to other pilots, his crime was more direct, and the reason for his arrest was clear: on the day of the defection, he happened to be taking off on a mission, but instead of taking any interception action against the defecting fighter jet, he voluntarily gave up the airspace, allowing those "traitors" to swagger to neighboring countries.

Since the evidence is conclusive.

So what awaits him?

Naturally, this also means judgment.

The trial came somewhat unexpectedly, yet also somewhat predictably.

However, the so-called trial was not a trial at all, and it was not even a formality, because there were no defense lawyers and they were not allowed to defend themselves.

The so-called trial was actually a farce.

The only "judge" was dressed in a crisp uniform, sitting at his desk, with no case files in front of him.

The so-called prosecutor proceeded to accuse them of crimes in a seemingly professional manner. Of course, he also had no evidence, merely stating his accusations verbally.

After all, there are too many people who need to be taken to court, where would we find the time to prepare all the necessary materials?

Sarrit and five other officers accused of “aiding defection” stood there with their hands tied behind their backs.

"Sarrit, you are accused of deliberately letting a traitor escape, betraying the country. The evidence is conclusive. Do you plead guilty?"

The judge's voice was cold; regardless of whether the defendant pleaded guilty, the verdict had been delivered.

Faced with this question, Sarrit abruptly raised his head. He looked directly at the judge, and the next moment his voice rang out.

"I plead not guilty!"

As these words rang out, the soldiers behind him suddenly grabbed him. Sarit did not flinch and continued loudly:

"This is not a trial at all. A trial should at least give the person being tried the opportunity to defend himself. He should have his own lawyer."

But what's here?

Besides the so-called prosecutor who's there proclaiming the charges with a piece of paper, there's also you, who's already written the verdict on that paper, regardless of whether you're guilty or not.

Whether or not one admits guilt, the outcome is already predetermined.

This is just a cover-up; in essence, it's a massacre to eliminate dissidents!

My refusal to plead guilty is not simply because this trial was a farce.

It's because I've never betrayed my country; I swore allegiance to the Iranian Empire, not this so-called country!

Faced with his relentless rebuttal, the judge's face instantly turned ashen, and he slammed his fist on the table.
"Outrageous! How dare you try to talk your way out of this national crisis! You've colluded with traitors and deserve to die!"

"I'm not making excuses!"

Sarit struggled to move forward, but the soldiers held him firmly by the shoulder. He shouted:

“You have deceived everyone. The people drove the king away not so that you would lead the country to hell, but for a better and fairer life.”

But you not only usurped the fruits of victory, you also tried to intimidate everyone through slaughter! You forgot that true loyalty is not blind obedience. Fear may make people submit temporarily, but people cannot submit forever.

The judge, not wanting to hear any more, abruptly stood up and shouted: "Sarrit, and all the defendants present, are guilty of treason and sentenced to death, to be carried out immediately!"

There was no opportunity for appeal, no final farewell. Sarrit and five other officers were roughly dragged out of the warehouse and shoved into a truck.

The truck finally stopped in the city center square. It was already packed with people, and armed militiamen stood around the perimeter, forming a cold, menacing cordon.

In the center of the square, two forklifts and a huge crane were already in place—thick ropes were hanging from the crane's hooks. These were instruments of torture specially prepared for "greater shock value." They wanted everyone to witness the fate of the "traitor" and to etch fear into everyone's bones.

As the soldiers pushed Sarrit and the others toward the gallows one by one, the moment the rope was around their necks, Sarrit suddenly smiled, turned to look at his comrades beside him, his voice calm yet tinged with a hint of relief:
"Alright, brothers. When the turmoil happened, we didn't die for the country we swore allegiance to. Now, we're finally going to pay the price for our actions."

His words brought tears to the eyes of several officers around him, one of whom nodded slightly:
"At least we did not betray our conscience, and we did not, like those people, exchange the blood of our compatriots for a mere survival."

They thought their words would move others, but in fact, the opposite was true.

"traitor!"

"Damn traitor!"

“You will go to hell, you traitors.”

People in the square shouted angrily, and some even threw stones at them.

Faced with these angry people, Sarit said nothing more, but simply raised his head and looked up at the gray sky over Tehran.

He knew these people were being misled.

Faced with death, faced with their accusations and curses, he decided to forgive these ignorant people.

Even though these were people he had sworn to protect.

Looking up at the blue sky, he recalled that morning many years ago when he flew his first airplane through the sky.

The sky was so blue back then, and he was so young.

He had sworn to protect this land with his life. And now, he is about to die in the country he swore to protect, in this absurd farce.

At a command, the forklifts and cranes started moving simultaneously. The ropes tightened sharply, and Sarrit and his comrades were hoisted high into the air, swaying in the sky above the square.

The crowd erupted in cheers. They were celebrating the death of the traitor.

This is the purpose of making it public. It's to let everyone see the fate of traitors.

Of course, on the other hand, the deterrent effect seems to have been achieved—but they don't know that the end of fear is not obedience, but the anger that has been building up in people's hearts, which will one day erupt like a volcano.

For the next two weeks, such hangings were repeatedly staged in squares across various cities. More and more people were taken away by the militia, prisons were already overcrowded, and people were executed every day.

Forklifts and cranes have become the most terrifying symbols, lifting not only lives, but also anger.

The entire country was like a machine out of control, sinking deeper and deeper into a frenzied purge, and the corpses hanging high in the squares finally led them to their dinner tables.

But when they put themselves on the dinner table, they did so without any attempt to hide it—they did it openly in the square, and even on television, broadcasting it nationwide.

Of course, the whole world has seen it.

What can other countries in the world do in the face of such behavior?

Of course, they should be condemned from a moral standpoint.

But it's not enough to just condemn; we also need to take some measures.

The SEA was the first country to announce a comprehensive embargo against Iran, while simultaneously calling on other Western countries to follow suit.

However, this appeal did not receive a response from other Western countries. In their view, Chang'an's decision was not because of Iran, but because of Iraq.

They called on Western countries to impose sanctions on Iran because Iran posed a threat to Iraq.

"We will not sacrifice our own interests for the benefit of other countries."

Countries in this world always have their own agendas. Thus, so-called sanctions are like a funnel; they are completely meaningless when other countries don't follow suit.

Tehran naturally saw the weakness of the Western countries in this outcome. In their view, those Western countries were nothing more than a group of weak, profit-driven nations, and nothing to worry about.

They continued their performance at the dining table, unaware that they were now sitting on the plate.

The only question is—when will the person sitting at the table start eating?
(End of this chapter)