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

Khalid and the others returned in the afternoon.

Chen Zheng was leaning back on the sofa in his hotel room, scrolling through his phone, when Khalid called to say that he had bought some things and asked him to come down and take a look.

Chen Zheng called Gao Fei up and down the stairs.

I saw two gray-white Toyota Hilux pickup trucks downstairs.

It's hard currency now!!!

"How's the car?" he asked.

Khalid stood to the side and said with a smile, "A 07 2.5 turbocharged diesel engine, four-wheel drive, manual transmission, original paint."

Chen Zheng walked over and saw a bullet hole in the car door. He could stick half a finger in it. Was it a bullet hole?

"How much?"

"Two cars together, $4000!"

"The price is alright."

Li Yang climbed out of the passenger seat, dragged a large canvas bag out of the truck bed, unzipped it, and inside were several neatly folded bulletproof vests and a pile of magazines.

He took out a bulletproof vest, unfolded it, and held it in front of him.

"Brother Chen, take a look at this. It's from Dow Dyneema, made of polyethylene fiber, model REVAS T2000. It's level 3 protection, capable of stopping rifle bullets, and even 7.62×39 steel-core bullets are no problem. It's $400 a piece."

Chen Zheng reached out and touched the surface of the bulletproof vest. It was hard, like touching a thick plastic board. He put the vest on and patted his chest.

"It's ridiculously expensive for just one board! We'll make our own from now on!"

Didn't someone say back then, "A car is just four tires, right?" Everyone knows what happened after that.

Khalid's lips twitched.

Are bulletproof vests that easy to make?

Chen Zheng glanced at his watch; it was 4:30 PM.

"Everyone pack your things, get ready to go home."

"good!"

……

At exactly six o'clock, the sun had already sunk below the Mediterranean Sea level.

The car departs from the Phoenician Hotel, heads south along the seaside promenade out of Beirut, turns onto Damascus Road, and continues east.

The lights of Beirut grew farther and farther away, dimmer and dimmer in the rearview mirror.

Halfway there, Chen Zheng had the convoy turn into a eucalyptus grove by the roadside.

The headlights were turned off, the engine was shut off, and the sound of the clapper stopped abruptly.

The woods were dark, with only moonlight filtering through the eucalyptus leaves, casting dappled silver shadows on the ground.

Chen Zheng got out of the car, pulled open the back seat cushion, and took out several AKMs.

Arms dealers...don't lack weapons!

He handed the gun to the men.

Zhao Meng held the AKM against his waist, pulled the bolt with his left hand, and pushed the magazine catch with his right hand, making a magazine-changing motion.

"Brother Chen," he looked up, "this gun is older than my mother."

Chen Zheng laughed and said, "The old guy can also kill someone with a single shot. In the Middle East, Soviet goods are better than American goods. If American goods have a little sand in them, they can cause problems. The old guy has his own tricks!"

That's true...

Western goods are just pretentious!!

Just like a scumbag.

"Do you know how to use this gun?"

Wang Lei slapped the magazine into the magazine well with one hand, pulled the bolt with his left hand, and with a click, the bullet was chambered.

Then he shifted his feet, crouched slightly, rested the butt of his rifle on his shoulder, and pointed the muzzle into the depths of the woods.

Authentic Magpul gun handling technique!

Do domestic special forces teach this?

Wang Lei was about to pull the trigger.

"Don't shoot!"

Chen Zheng rushed forward, pressed down on the cover, and said:

"This is the bubble tea shop's territory. If we want to fight, we'll have plenty of opportunities later. But once you fire a shot, we'll all turn into fertilizer!"

"Let's go, let's go, everyone get on the bus."

Wang Lei nodded and turned off the safety lock.

The convoy is back on the road.

The journey from Beirut to the Bekaa Valley takes more than an hour during the day and even longer at night.

By the time the convoy reached the tribe on the north bank of the Yamuq River, it was almost 8 p.m.

Chen Zheng was already very familiar with this valley, but today was different.

When the car headlights swept across the area, he saw a large cluster of tents outside the tent area, densely packed like mushrooms sprouting after the rain.

Some of the tents looked brand new; the canvas was still wrinkled, and the ropes weren't even straightened, hanging loosely.

In the open space between the tents, someone had built a stove with stones on the ground. The fire was still burning, and the flames flickered in the night wind, casting long shadows of the people nearby.

The air was filled with a mixture of smoky and sour smells, several times stronger than the last time I came.

Chen Zheng rolled down the car window a crack, and the smell rushed in, making him wrinkle his nose.

"Why are there so many people?" Li Yang craned his neck to look outside.

Chen Zheng also sensed that something was wrong.

These people look like... refugees!

"Ah Yang, take Ah Fei and the others to rent a few tents, somewhere in a corner, not in the middle. Khalid and I will go and ask Sheikh."

"Okay, Brother Chen!"

Chen Zheng and his companion walked to the chief's tent in the very center.

The lamp in the tent was still the same kerosene lamp, its glass shade yellowed from the soot, casting a dim, yellowish light that made the whole tent look like a scene from an old photograph.

The two of them pulled back the curtain and went inside without any hesitation.

I saw the old man smoking a pipe, looking quite melancholy.

Hearing the voice, he turned around abruptly, saw the two of them, and his facial muscles relaxed. "What are you doing here?"

Khalid didn't stand on ceremony and sat down opposite him, asking, "Sheikh, what's going on with those people outside?"

A long silence followed in the room.

Sheikh raised his head, looked at Khalid, and then at Chen Zheng.

"Something has happened in Della."

"Yesterday, a village called Talbiseh, south of Daraa, was massacred!"

Chen Zheng paused, his hand holding the teacup still, and looked up in surprise.

"113 people, including 21 children, were all found beaten to death, their bodies lying haphazardly."

The Syrian Brotherhood claims it was the government forces who did it.

"They say Assad's army entered the village and searched house to house for 'terrorists,' and when they couldn't find any, they started killing people."

"The government forces, of course, denied it, saying that it was a terrorist organization that staged the whole thing to frame the government forces, create chaos, and give external forces an excuse to interfere."

Chen Zheng frowned. "Are the government troops really that brutal?"

"You also think it was the government army who did it?" Sheikh asked.

Chen Zheng immediately understood.

He is not a fool.

Syria is like a pressure cooker. After the fruit vendor in Tunisia burned himself to death, the entire Arab world was set on fire, with Egypt, Libya, and Yemen burning one after another.

A chilling thought crept into Chen Zheng's mind: perhaps those people were deliberately murdered?

Who will ultimately benefit from this?

The United States? Türkiye? Israel?

He took a deep breath and banished the thought from his mind, mainly because the more he thought about it, the more terrifying it became!

Some things are better left unthought of!

And whether it's true or false, it's none of his business.

He's just a die-hard CNC enthusiast!

Saving world peace depends on Ultraman, but that's not necessarily true. If Ultraman stops the chaos in the Middle East, he might get blown up by a missile tomorrow.

Can Ultraman at Mach 3 dodge a missile at Mach 5?

"Syria is going to have a civil war!!!"

"Since yesterday, there has been a constant stream of news from Delaware."

Sheikh spilled everything he knew: "The Free Army, the Free People of Sham, the Nusra Front, and there are even Christians recruiting troops. All sorts of random armed groups are popping up everywhere, like mushrooms after the rain."

They're all armed with God's magic.

"The Free Army is relatively moderate; at least they say they want to protect civilians. The Free Sham group is Sunni and not very polite to Christians or Shiites. The Nusra Front, on the other hand, is a real terrorist group."

"What happened to the Nusra Front?" Khalid pressed.

"They like to hang human heads on checkpoint roadblocks, and they are a branch of the Is."

Khalid suddenly realized!

Extreme, absolutely extreme!!!

Chen was sitting next to him, his mind racing.

Chaos.

Everything is in chaos.

The whole of Syria is in complete chaos.

Someone turned a swarm of wasps upside down, and with a buzzing sound, they all exploded. You couldn't tell which was which at all; all you knew was that there were stingers everywhere, and you could sting people everywhere.

"It's too hard," Khalid sighed beside him. "God, how are we supposed to get by?"

Upon hearing this, Chen Zheng suddenly exclaimed, "That's wonderful!"

The sound wasn't loud, but the tent was quiet, and those three words clearly reached Khalid and Sheikh's ears.

The two of them turned their gazes at the same time.

Chen Zheng's heart skipped a beat, realizing he had let something slip. He covered his mouth, coughed, shook his head, and sighed.

"That's terrible."

"I hate war."

He said, his voice lowered, with a forced, heavy sorrow, "I really hate war, I fucking hate war so much."

"You know, my lifelong dream is to win the Nobel Peace Prize!"

He repeated it three times, each time with more force, as if trying to convince the two people in front of him, or perhaps trying to convince himself.

But... the Nobel Peace Prize has been won by warmongers in recent years.

Khalid looked at him, and the corner of his mouth twitched slowly.

Chen Zheng felt a little uneasy under the gazes of these two people. He picked up his teacup and pretended to drink tea, but the teacup was empty. He took a sip of air and then put it down.

"Alright," he stood up, brushed the dust off his pants, "Sheikh, we're leaving now."

Sheikh nodded but did not get up.

"Be careful on the road."

The two people lifted the curtain and bent down to crawl out of the tent.

The night wind outside was stronger than when we came in, making the tent flap rustle. The light from the kerosene lamp leaked through the gap in the curtain, drawing an orange line on the ground.

After walking a distance, Khalid suddenly spoke, his voice so low that only the two of them could hear him.

He said, a barely concealed smile playing on his lips, "Bruce, you were about to burst out laughing just now."

Chen Zheng paused, and was about to speak when Khalid interrupted him, "Don't lie to me, this isn't Europe, there's no need for political correctness here."

Having been exposed, Chen Zheng no longer tried to hide anything, and he lowered his voice to say:

"Khalid, I love war, I love war so much, I fucking love war."

Khalid listened but didn't reply; he just sighed.

Stop sighing.

Chen Zheng put the cigarette in his mouth, reached into his pocket for a lighter, but couldn't find it after a couple of tries, so he gave up. "At worst, I'll donate $1000 to charity and let them protect more civilians."

"Moreover, you have to look at it from a different perspective. The people of the Middle East are pursuing freedom, and we are just giving them the ability to choose. They chose their own path, so they can't blame anyone else."

"There are 550 million weapons in the world, which means there's only one gun for every 12 people. That's completely unfair to the other 11 people, so I'm just bringing them fairness!"

"Most importantly..."

Chen Zheng drew out the last syllable and said with a smile, "The gentlemen sitting at the intersection of First Avenue and East 46th Street in New York City have a much wider storefront than we do."

Compared to them, we're just selling toys.

Hey you, White Elephant!!! Yes, you!!! Come out and fight me one-on-one!

Just then, Khalid's cell phone rang.

He took it out, glanced at the screen, and slowed his pace.

He didn't take it, but simply handed the phone to Chen Zheng.

A name popped up on the screen—Hassan.

When Chen Zheng saw that name, he slowed down.

The two people looked at each other.

"Looks like he's here to urge us."

Khalid said, handing the phone towards Chen Zheng, "Should I answer it or not?"

Chen Zheng did not answer his phone.

He stood there, hands on his hips, looking up at the dense starry sky above.

"Do you think it's humane of me to raise prices now?" he suddenly asked.

Khalid was taken aback.

"Forget it, why raise prices? Raising prices now is no different from being a profiteer."

"We are people with principles!!"

"So, are you going to answer it or not?"

Chen Zheng grinned, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and took the phone.

He took a deep breath, forced a smile, and then pressed the answer button in the most enthusiastic, warmest, and most like-hearted reunion with an old friend.

"Brother Hassan! It's been so long since I heard your voice!"

"Bruce!"

Hassan on the other end of the line asked sharply, "Isn't Khalid here?"

Chen Zheng glanced to the side and said with a smile, "I'll call him for you."

As he spoke, he took the phone away and shouted, "Khalid! Khalid! What? You've gone undercover?"

Then Chen Zheng picked up his phone, "Hassan, Khalid is in the toilet, he has diarrhea!"

Khalid, who was standing to the side, couldn't stand it anymore.

Oh shit…

Even Broadway actors aren't that good at acting!

This is blatant lying.

Hassan paused for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Bruce, I'm not going to play games with you. I'll be straight to the point: that shipment needs to be delivered sooner, within a week!"

Chen Zheng frowned, then raised his voice, "A week? Mr. Hassan, are you kidding me? We clearly agreed to the middle of next month, there are still more than ten days left! You've completely messed up my order schedule. I have so many orders, too many!"

"I'll pay more!"

Chen Zheng immediately shut his mouth.

The other party offered to pay more money, so it shouldn't be considered that I have no bottom line, right?

I didn't want it, but he insisted on giving it to me!

Chen Zheng coughed twice, then felt a little embarrassed.

"Deliver it within a week, and I'll add another $5!"

I did the math, which means an additional $50 per game…

The price isn't low.

"Hey, Mr. Hassan, this...this..." Chen Zheng shook his head, "This puts me in a difficult position, but since we're friends, I'll just have the staff work overtime!"

"They're all friends!"

"Helping each other is the right thing to do!"

"Money doesn't matter, we're all friends!"

"By the way, please don't include consecutive numbers in the $5 bills, thank you."

……