I manufacture weapons in the Middle East and am wanted globally?

With the buffs from the Monster Factory and the Peons, the first AKM was produced in less than 3 hours!

Chen Zheng held the AKM in both hands as if he were holding a newborn baby, his eyes shining.

The barrel was still hot, having been taken out of the cutting fluid not long ago.

The receiver has sharp edges, the rifling of the barrel is as smooth as a mirror, and even the small hole on the front sight base is perfectly drilled without a single burr.

I must commend the monster's peons for their professionalism once again.

He rested the butt of his rifle on his shoulder, closed one eye, and peered through the rear sight at the wall in the corner of the factory. The sight remained firmly in the center of the rear sight, unmoving.

Then he brought the gun to his nose and smelled it.

There was a smell of cutting fluid mixed with machine oil and metal powder, and a faint burnt smell, which was caused by the heat generated during high-speed milling burning the cutting fluid residue.

"That's the taste," Chen Zheng muttered, grinning.

There's no way around it... Logically speaking, you should wipe it with gun oil first, but this is the Middle East... What is gun oil?

He took out his phone and took several photos of the AKM.

The front, side, receiver close-up, barrel close-up, even the firing pin inside the ejection port was photographed.

After taking the photos, he opened WhatsApp, found Khalid's profile picture, and sent all the photos to him at once.

Then he stared at the screen and waited.

One second, two seconds, three seconds—

After waiting for ages, the message status was still "sent," not even "read."

Chen Zheng glanced at the time in the upper right corner of his phone screen: 4:12 AM.

"Damn it," he cursed, throwing his phone on the table.

Khalid is definitely sleeping at this time.

Although Syrians don't follow the same routines as Europeans, even stray dogs on the street are dozing off at four in the morning.

It's a little upsetting that there's no one to share it with.

Can you understand this feeling?

Chen Zheng sat in the chair, placed the AKM on his lap, and touched the cold barrel with both hands, feeling an overwhelming sense of excitement.

He thought for a moment, then picked up his phone, opened his browser, and logged into the gun forum "Gunsmith's Corner".

He registered a new account.

Username: MonsterFactory

Signature: Inquiries welcome.

He randomly chose a profile picture, the green fanged monster, which he screenshotted from the Monster Factory app.

Then he clicked on "Post a new thread".

Title: [Showcase] AKM, In-house manufactured, Middle Eastern stock available, bulk orders receive preferential pricing!

text:

Enough with the chit-chat, here are the pictures.

[Images][Images][Images][Images][Images]

(The difference between the AK47 and AKM is: the AKM is a lightweight and improved version with anti-ricochet muzzle and more stable burst fire; the AK47 is heavier, has an older build quality, and has no muzzle optimization, resulting in greater recoil.)

Produced in our own factory, with 45# steel barrels and 40Cr receivers, all CNC machined for guaranteed precision. The rifling is even smoother than that of the original Soviet rifles, and the assembly clearance is controlled within 0.02 mm, ensuring absolutely no jamming during firing.

Spot goods available in the Middle East; large quantities can be delivered to your door.

Those interested, please add WhatsApp: +963-XXX-XXX-XXX

Serious inquiries only! 60% down payment on the goods! 100% for Indians and dogs!

After posting the message, Chen Zheng refreshed the page.

The post is already in the latest list, but no one has replied yet.

He refreshed the page again.

Still no one.

Refresh again.

Chen Zheng threw his phone on the table, leaned back in his chair, took out the pack of Liqun cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out, put it in his mouth, and lit it.

Smoke rose in the dim light, mingling with the smell of cutting fluid, creating an indescribable sense of absurdity.

He took a drag of his cigarette, exhaled the smoke, squinted at the ceiling, and suddenly yawned.

I drifted off to sleep on the sofa in a daze.

In his dream, Chen Zheng was standing on the top floor of a skyscraper, with the entire city's night view below him.

He was wearing a white suit with solid gold buttons on the sleeves that gleamed under the lights.

He had beautiful women on both sides of him.

The waves are surging!

The one on the left is wearing a red evening gown, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and her smile is like that of a Hollywood movie heroine. The one on the right is wearing a black cheongsam, with cascading black hair and delicate features like porcelain.

He raised his right hand, holding a glass of whiskey, the ice cubes clinking inside.

"Ladies and gentlemen—" he began, his voice booming like he was giving a speech, "Welcome to my party!"

The lobby downstairs was packed with people.

Some people were dancing, some were drinking, some were playing in the pool, and some were smoking on the balcony, the smoke drifting in the night breeze.

Chen Zheng downed the whiskey in one gulp, then smashed the glass on the ground, shards of glass flying everywhere.

"From this day forward—" he spread his arms wide, tilted his head back to the sky, "I am the sixth most powerful criminal in the world!"

I'm about to start a one-night stand.

Then--

buzzing.

buzzing.

buzzing.

Chen Zheng frowned. Something seemed off about the sound of the fireworks.

buzzing.

He suddenly opened his eyes.

The fluorescent lights on the ceiling were still flickering, sometimes bright and sometimes dim.

The phone was vibrating and buzzing on the table.

Chen Zheng sat up from the canvas, his back aching and his neck stiff as if it had been twisted all night.

He got up, walked to the table, and grabbed his phone.

Three words popped up on the screen: Khalid.

He answered the phone, his voice still hoarse from just waking up: "Feed."

"List!!!"

Khalid's voice boomed out, as loud as a mountain shout. Even through the phone, you could feel him gesturing wildly, "When did you make an AKM?! When the hell were you even capable of making one?!"

Chen Zheng moved the phone away from his ear a little and rubbed his ears, which were ringing from the vibration.

"Don't get excited, bro."

"I just woke up, and the first thing I saw when I turned on my phone were those photos you posted. I looked at them three times! Three times! Do you know what that means?"

Chen Zheng leaned back in his chair, took out a cigarette from his pocket, put one in his mouth, and waited for the other person to continue.

Khalid took a deep breath. "It means expanding and strengthening our business, achieving new heights. Handguns are just small fry; rifles are the real arms business!"

"I know," Chen Zheng said.

"You don't know!" Khalid's voice rose another half octave. "Chen, do you know how much an AKM sells for on the Syrian black market? A good condition, original factory-made one can fetch $800. If it's a brand new, unfired gun, it can sell for over $1000. If a civil war really breaks out—"

He paused, then continued, "If a civil war really breaks out, the price could skyrocket to over $1200! And you might not even be able to buy one! At that point, the streets will be full of people with money who can't buy guns. If you have one, you'll be like Jesus."

"So, would you be willing to be one of Jesus' twelve disciples, buddy? I can't handle it all by myself, you know. Once the machine is running, the money just keeps flowing out like lubrication. It's really bothering me," Chen Zheng said with a smile.

Khalid said it was impossible not to be tempted.

It's like when you go home for Chinese New Year and see that your childhood friend earns 30,000 yuan a month, you definitely won't ask him what he does; you'll first ask him if he can mentor you.

There's no such thing as good or bad when it comes to making money; it all comes down to conscience. People with bad consciences sell drugs, while those with good consciences sell medicine. Is there really a difference between American drug dealers and drug traffickers?

"Stop hesitating, stop whining! I'm making you a senior partner, with a 20% commission on all orders from now on!"

Chen Zheng gave the other party 10% before because it was the beginning and the other party brought in the order. Now that they are partners, why is he still giving them 10%?

Is Chen Zheng running a charity?

20‰ is already a lot. He can earn 2000 on a single order worth 100,000 US dollars!

Even selling insurance in China... you probably only get this much commission, right?

Moreover, they're selling guns and cannons now, next time they'll sell tanks... cough cough cough...

"Deal," Khalid said, his tone carrying a sense of relief. "From now on, I'll have to call you 'Boss'!"

"Don't call me by my real name, call me Bruce."

Khalid quickly responded.

When you're out and about, who the hell uses their real name?

"Come with me to Beka Valley tomorrow," Chen Zheng said. "There's a customer at a bubble tea shop there." (PS: Bubble tea shop = Pearl Party.)

"A bubble tea shop?" Khalid's voice suddenly lowered. "Chen, are you sure about the people there?"

"Why do you care who the other party is when you're doing business?" Chen Zheng flicked his cigarette ash. "As long as they pay, I'll do business with the devil."

Khalid remained silent for several seconds.

"Okay," he finally said. "I'll go with you."

"Okay," Chen Zheng said, "There's one more thing."

"I'd like to take a look at the new factory site while I'm at it."

"A new factory location?" Khalid was taken aback. "You're moving the factory?"

"We're not moving now, but we need to prepare in advance. Delaware will be the front line if a war breaks out. My equipment—four machine tools and three new ones—is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. I can't just leave it here to be looted, can I?"

Khalid thought for a moment: "Where do you want to move to?"

"South of Kunetra," Chen Zheng said, "the area on the north bank of the Yarmouk River, in the upper reaches of the Wadi Raqqad valley."

A gasp came from the other end of the phone.

"Are you crazy?"

Khalid's voice rose a half octave, "How far is that place from the Israeli border? Less than half an hour by car! If you move there, what if the Israelis attack?"

"The Israelis will not attack."

Chen Zheng interrupted him, his tone very certain, "At least not in the short term. Who controls that place now? It's under government control, right? Besides, that place has convenient transportation. To the north is Damascus, to the south is Jordan, to the west is Israel, and to the east is Daraa. It's accessible from all directions. Businesses are always afraid of bad roads."

He paused for a moment, then said, "Those places... are the core area of ​​the basalt in the eastern Golan Heights, with a dense network of ancient lava tubes that are interconnected underground. They directly transform natural caves and are adjacent to the Yamuk River and underground springs. Factory cooling, domestic and production water can be directly pumped out without the need for long-distance water transportation."

"I've calculated it. The chosen location is on the edge of the Syrian-controlled side, 1-2 kilometers east of the UN buffer zone. It's not in the Israeli-controlled area, nor directly opposite the core Israeli outposts. The Israelis won't easily cross the line to launch airstrikes on Syrian targets near the UN buffer zone. The probability of an airstrike is 80% lower than in the northern Hermon Mountains."

He finally spoke, his voice tinged with a helpless laugh, "You can even calculate a map so clearly, did you used to be a staff officer?"

"I used to be a backdoor administrator," Chen Zheng said.

"What is that?"

"They're in charge of the trash cans."

Khalid chuckled on the other end.

"By the way, are you sure you can handle Abu Ali's order? Three hundred APS, one week. You only have a few people in your factory, can you keep up with the production capacity? If they take the money and don't do a good job, they're not exactly good people."

Chen Zheng glanced at the six busy workers in the factory and smiled, "More than enough."

"Alright, get ready, I'll pick you up tomorrow."

He said, "First, I'll go to the Bekaa Valley to meet with clients, and then I'll go to Kunetra to see the factory site."

"it is good."

"Brothers, let's turn this place upside down!!"

Hearing the "bold words" from the other end of the phone, Khalid simply smiled and agreed, but didn't take it to heart.

Just take it as bragging.

Earth-shaking changes?

As long as we don't get bombed and turned upside down by Israel in the Golan Heights, that's all that matters.

They'll put a warrant for your arrest then...

After hanging up the phone.

Khalid sighed and prayed for God's blessing!

……