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

The Israeli leader was a lieutenant, about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, with a sun-tanned bronze face, wearing sunglasses, and a downturned mouth, as if the whole world owed him money.

He looks like he deserves a beating.

Three soldiers followed behind him, their rifles pointed downwards, but their fingers resting on the trigger guards.

Abdullah has already gone to meet them.

The old man was bent over low, his face wrinkled into a chrysanthemum shape, and he was muttering something.

Abdullah took out a wad of US dollars from his pocket.

The brand-new Franklin gleamed green in the sunlight.

He held it with both hands and handed it to the lieutenant.

Khalid squinted at it and said, "There's at least $3000 in here. This old man has really gone all out."

"You have a sharp eye."

Khalid chuckled. "I only like two things: money and women. I can tell a woman's bra size at a glance."

The lieutenant took the money and turned to leave.

His gaze swept across the crowd, then suddenly stopped.

A child was staring at him from beside the tent.

The child was about seven or eight years old, as thin as a bamboo pole, wearing a T-shirt several sizes too big, the collar slipping down to his shoulders, revealing the outline of his collarbone. His eyes were bright, like two balls of fire, staring intently at the lieutenant, his lips pressed into a line, his hands clenched into fists.

The lieutenant glanced at him.

Then he laughed.

The lieutenant walked over and grabbed the child's head.

His hands were large, with his fingers spread wide, and he held the child's head like he was dunking a basketball.

The slap landed on the child's face with a crisp sound. The child's head jerked to one side, his body spun halfway around, and he tripped and fell to the ground.

The child was knocked to the ground, his face hit a stone, his mouth was cut, and blood flowed out, mixed with dust and stuck to his face.

Abdullah rushed forward.

The old man was bent over, his hands clasped together, and he kept muttering something, as if he were begging for mercy.

He stood in front of the child, shielding the small, thin body with his own, his shoulders trembling.

The lieutenant glanced at him, then at the child.

The child was still on the ground, his face buried in Abdullah's clothes, his shoulders trembling, but he made no sound—he was holding back his tears.

The lieutenant raised his foot and kicked the boy.

The kick landed on the shoulder, and the child groaned, rolling half a circle to the side.

Abdullah rushed forward and hugged the lieutenant's leg, tears streaming down his face, muttering something in a hoarse voice that was hard to understand.

The men around him were all pushing forward.

They clenched their fists, gripped wooden sticks, and held stones they had picked up at random, pressing forward step by step.

Someone shouted something, but it was unclear. However, the anger surged over them like a tidal wave, making it hard to breathe.

Then the old man stopped them.

Several older men spread their arms, blocking the young people, shouting something in a hurried and loud voice.

"Don't go!" "Calm down!" "Do you want to kill everyone?!"

The young people were pushed backward; some fell, some were grabbed, and some were pulled by the arms. They struggled and cursed, but were eventually dragged back.

The lieutenant stood in the middle of the crowd, watching it all unfold.

The smile was still on his lips.

Then he kicked the child again.

The kick landed on the stomach, and the child curled up like a beetle whose shell had been stepped on.

Abdullah knelt on the ground, hugging the lieutenant's legs, crying and trembling all over.

The lieutenant glanced down at him, pulled his leg out of the old man's arms, straightened his trousers, spat a glob of phlegm in the child's face, and then walked away arrogantly.

"How arrogant!" Khalid muttered.

"You have powerful connections, so you're even more arrogant than him." Chen Zheng patted him on the shoulder.

After the car drove away, several women rushed over and picked the child up from the ground.

The child's face was swollen on one side, the blood at the corner of his mouth had dried, his eye sockets were bruised, one eye was unable to open, and the other eye was half-open with a slightly dilated pupil.

Abdullah stood to the side, his hands hanging at his sides.

The old man wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, then lifted the curtain and bent down to crawl inside.

"Sit down, sit down," he said, his voice hoarse and unlike his own. He pointed to the carpet on the floor. "The tea is cold. I'll have someone boil another pot."

"No need, Sheikh," Khalid said, reaching out to stop him. "We won't have tea; we'll just sit for a while and then leave."

Abdullah nodded, sat down on the carpet, placed his hands on his knees, and looked down at a non-existent stain on the carpet.

The tent remained quiet for a long time.

The sound of a woman crying came from outside, low and soft, like the wind blowing through a broken window.

Occasionally, a man's voice could be heard, very low, and it was impossible to hear what he was saying, but his tone was aggressive, as if he were arguing.

Abdullah finally raised his head, glanced at Chen Zheng, and then at Khalid.

"I've made a fool of myself in front of you."

He said, his lips twitching slightly, it was hard to tell if he was laughing or crying, "That's just how this place is. The Israelis can come and go as they please, take whatever they want, and we don't even dare to utter a sound."

"Do we have to pay every month?" Khalid asked.

“Every month,” Abdullah nodded, “three thousand dollars. Sometimes three thousand, sometimes five thousand, depending on their mood. Last month they said they wanted to build a road, so they took two thousand from us. The month before last they said they wanted to build a guard post, so they took fifteen thousand. And then there’s this month’s three thousand…” He counted on his fingers, “Over the past six months, we’ve given the Israelis almost twenty thousand dollars.”

"Where did you get so much money?"

Abdullah gave a bitter laugh. "Where would we get that much money? We sold sheep, we sold grain, the women went to work on Israeli farms, and the men went to move stones. We sold everything we could, and borrowed everything we could."

He paused, then lowered his voice, so low it was almost inaudible: "I don't even know where next month's money is."

Chen Zheng suddenly said, "The young people in the tribe are very spirited."

Abdullah raised his head and looked at Chen Zheng.

A glint flashed in those cloudy old eyes.

"They're ignorant," he said softly. "They don't know how powerful the Israelis are—tanks, planes, missiles, and drones flying all over the place, you can see everything. What do we have to fight them with? Stones? Sticks? Or these—"

He pointed to the old AKM in the corner, its body covered in rust and the magazine unable to be loaded properly. "This piece of junk jams every three shots. I'd be ashamed to use it for hunting."

Khalid glanced at Chen Zheng, who sighed, "It's not easy for anyone, Sheikh. We'll be going now. Thank you for your hospitality, Khalid."

Abdullah looked up. "Have some food before you leave?"

"There are other things, maybe next time."

Khalid started the engine, and the car slowly drove out of the tribe, heading downstream along the river valley.

In the rearview mirror, the tents grew smaller and smaller, more and more blurry, until they finally disappeared behind the hills.

Chen Zheng rolled down the car window and lit a cigarette.

"Didn't you say these are your target customers?" Khalid gripped the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Why don't you ask them if they need weapons?"

Chen Zheng exhaled the smoke and watched it dissipate in the wind.

"That old man is getting old and has become timid."

He said, "You saw it yourself, the Israelis kicked him, beat him, and robbed him of his money, and he didn't dare utter a sound. You want him to buy a gun? Even if he bought a gun, would he dare to use it?"

"So, what about your target customers—"

"Those young men," Chen Zheng flicked his cigarette ash, "didn't you see their eyes? Those brats, their eyes are full of fire. Give them a gun, and they'll dare to go and fight the Israelis tomorrow."

Khalid thought for a moment and nodded.

"Now is not the time to say it."

Chen Zheng put a cigarette in his mouth, squinted at the gray sky ahead, and said, "That old man is still around, and he's the one who calls the shots in the tribe. If you talk business with a young man in front of him, the old man will lose face, and the young man won't know how to respond."

"Wait for when?"

Chen Zheng chuckled, his laughter carrying an indescribable certainty.

"Anger will burn away reason and destroy morality!"

"Once the surrender faction is killed, all that will be left are those reciting ancient scriptures and pulling the trigger."

That makes a lot of sense.

Many elderly men describe their weakness as prioritizing the greater good.

Even living like this, he still cares about JBM's big picture.

After driving for about twenty minutes, the road through the valley became narrower and narrower, and the hills on both sides became higher and higher. The rock walls changed from gray-black to dark brown, gleaming like rust in the afternoon sun.

"The Bekaa Valley is just ahead," Khalid pointed ahead. "Go over that mountain and you'll be there."

No sooner had he finished speaking than he suddenly slammed on the brakes.

The pickup truck suddenly stopped, and Chen Zheng's body lurched forward, the seatbelt digging painfully into his chest.

"Hold--"

He hadn't even finished swearing when he saw it.

There was a pickup truck parked on the side of the road ahead.

The lieutenant stood next to the pickup truck, hands on his hips, with a sour expression on his face and his lips moving as if he were cursing.

Seeing Chen Zheng and his men's pickup truck approaching, the lieutenant looked up, squinted at them, and then waved at them.

The gesture was casual, like calling a dog.

"Hit it," Chen Zheng said.

Khalid turned to look at him, his eyes wide: "What?"

"You're from the Middle East, and we have weapons in our vehicle. Do you think... you're a good person or an anti-Israel activist from the Middle East?"

Killing innocent people and claiming credit for their crimes is quite common in the Middle East.

Whoever has the bigger fist is the officer!

Fuck!

Khalid's Adam's apple bobbed, and sweat began to bead on his forehead.

"But...this is an attack on Israeli forces—"

"Is there CCTV footage here?"

Chen Zheng's tone was very impatient, "The cell phone signal isn't even stable here, and you're telling me about surveillance cameras? Look around, there are only mountains and rocks, not even a ghost in sight. How would anyone know it was us?"

"Don't gamble your life on someone's one in ten thousand mercy, you're from the Middle East!!"

"Now, step on the gas."

Khalid gritted his teeth.

Then he floored the accelerator.

The 2.0-liter engine roared, and the pickup truck surged forward like an enraged bull.

The four Israeli soldiers didn't even have time to react.

The man smoking by the roadside heard the engine noise and looked up. He saw a gray-white Toyota Corolla rushing towards them. He dropped his cigarette and his pupils dilated in an instant.

boom--

The pickup truck's front end struck the soldier standing in the middle of the road. His body was thrown around like a sack of potatoes, tumbling through the air countless times before crashing into the rocks on the side of the road with a dull thud.

"Oh my god! Beautiful!! A home run!!!" Chen Zheng screamed and laughed.

"Stomp on it! Don't let go!" Chen Zheng roared, pushing open the car door.

His feet were on the ground, his right hand had already drawn the APS from behind his waist, and his left hand tapped the magazine to confirm that it was locked and the safety was pushed off.

The lieutenant stood next to the driver's seat of the first pickup truck, his hand just touching the holster on his waist, not yet having drawn it.

Chen Zheng didn't give him a chance.

Thump thump thump—

Three shots in quick succession.

The bullet struck the lieutenant in the chest, causing him to stagger back two steps against the broken-down pickup truck. He looked down at the three small, bleeding holes in his chest, opened his mouth as if to say something, but only managed a muffled gurgling sound. Blood gushed from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin onto his uniform.

His knees buckled, and he slid down the car door, sitting on the ground with his head tilted to one side. His sunglasses fell off his forehead and landed in his own pool of blood.

Khalid's side wasn't idle either.

He jumped out of the driver's seat, his APS already level, aimed at the last soldier, the one who had been bending over to tie his shoelaces, who had just straightened up, his hands still on his trouser legs, his eyes wide as saucers.

Khalid pulled the trigger.

boom!

The first shot missed; the bullet grazed the soldier's ear and struck the pickup truck behind him with a clang, sending sparks flying.

The soldier hurriedly raised his gun!

Thump thump thump—

Three shots in quick succession.

The soldier's body jolted violently, as if pushed by an invisible hand. He staggered forward two steps, then collapsed to the ground, face down, his limbs twitching a few times before falling still.

Gunshots echoed through the valley, booming like thunder.

Then everything went quiet.

Chen Zheng stood there, his ears ringing from the gunfire.

He slapped the magazine back, walked up to the lieutenant, and squatted down.

The lieutenant is not dead yet.

His eyes were half-open, his pupils already beginning to dilate. Blood was still oozing from the three bullet holes in his chest, and his military uniform was soaked in blood, its color changing from olive green to dark brown. His lips were moving, as if he were saying something, but only bloody foam oozed from the corners of his mouth; no sound came out.

Chen Zheng looked at him for two seconds.

Then he stood up and pressed the muzzle of his gun against the lieutenant's forehead.

boom! !

The lieutenant's head snapped back, slamming against the car door, and then he remained motionless.

Chen Zheng turned around, walked to the soldiers by the roadside, and fired at them one by one.

Gunshots echoed through the valley, one after another, like the tolling of bells.

After finishing off the missing gun, Chen Zheng tucked it back into his waistband, squatted down, and began searching the soldiers' pockets.

A large wad of US dollars was found on the lieutenant, which Chen Zheng accepted without hesitation.

"Pick up the gun," Chen Zheng shouted to Khalid.

Khalid snapped back to his senses, bent down and picked up the rifles of the soldiers. They were four Israeli-made Tavor X95s, bullpup design, 5.56mm caliber, and equipped with red dot sights.

He then searched the pockets of those men and pulled out several magazines and two hand grenades.

"Get on the bus!"

After Khalid got into the car, Chen Zheng took out half of his US dollars and threw it to him.

"A business with no initial investment!"

Khalid smiled as soon as he saw the banknotes.

"Thank you, boss!!"