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

Assam was also surprised by how quickly Chen Zheng changed his expression.

He paused for a moment, then said with a touch of emotion, "Bruce, you will definitely succeed."

"Because you already possess the qualities of successful people."

The three essential elements for getting by in this world are: betraying your boss, seducing your boss's wife, and being a traitor!

Of course, those are too low-class. It should be: thick-skinned, shameless, and able to endure!

In business, there's no such thing as right or wrong.

Doing business is the same as being a scoundrel.

If you don't take off your clothes, you'll just peel off a layer of skin.

I'll take that as a compliment.

Chen Zheng turned and glanced at Khalid.

Khalid understood, took out two stacks of US dollars from the black nylon bag he carried with him, tied with rubber bands, the brand-new Franklins glowing a pale green under the light.

A stack of $1000.

Chen Zheng took it, weighed it in his hands, held it with both hands, and put it into Assam's hands.

The banknotes felt heavy in my hand, their edges digging into the flesh of my palm.

"You can act as a matchmaker for me."

Chen Zheng looked into Assam's eyes and said, "Thank you for your help, brother."

Assam thought for a moment and nodded. Foreigners are different from those in Asia. They get paid for doing things for others, and they don't feel embarrassed about it.

"My boss is in Iran right now and won't be back for a while. Once he's back, I'll find a chance to introduce you to him."

He put the money into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"I'll go to the exhibition with you tomorrow."

Assam continued, "I know a few of the people inside. I'll point them out to you and tell you who the real buyers are, who are just there to watch the show, and who are just trying to fish for money."

"But I'm not sure if I can get the orders. Those people have a lot of rules for doing business. Just because you have good products doesn't mean people have to buy them. There are circles, factions, personal relationships, and factions involved. It's a very complicated business."

Oh no, the second generation isn't here?

Did I give too much?

Chen Zheng glanced down at the pocket in Assam's hand. Assam followed his gaze, paused for a moment, then his lips twitched. "Give it back to you?"

Chen Zheng laughed and waved his hand.

"Am I that petty?"

"What's given to you is given to you. There's no reason to ask for it back! We should all get rich together!!!"

"Otherwise, it would make me, Bruce, seem petty!"

Chen Zheng smiled, picked up the flyer beside him, shook it, and handed it to Assam, his tone tinged with self-praise: "Look, we had it printed overnight. The paper quality may be a bit lacking, but the content is absolutely top-notch."

Assam took the flyer and glanced at it.

Below the red text "Made by Monster Factory" in the upper left corner, a photo of the "Mosquito" drone is clearly visible. At a 45-degree angle from the side, the green fanged monster logo on the drone does look quite intimidating under the light.

His gaze shifted downwards, landing on the bold black text: "Take home a Chinese drone for a steal at $550!!!" His lips twitched involuntarily.

"You guys make this stuff? Drones?" He pointed to the photo on the flyer. "Did you bring any samples? Can I take a look?"

Yes, yes, yes!

Chen Zheng turned to Gao Fei and called out, "Afei, open the box."

Gao Fei squatted down and laid the suitcase flat on the ground. Inside the suitcase were a few changes of clothes and two AKM samples, with a package wrapped tightly in bubble wrap at the bottom.

He took the package out, placed it on the coffee table, and quickly tore off the tape.

The mosquito has revealed its true form.

Assam stared at it for a full three seconds.

"...So ugly." He managed to squeeze out two words.

There's a saying, isn't there?

Does silence cause high damage?

Chen Zheng coughed twice, covering his mouth to hide his embarrassment, and then reached out to pick up the drone.

"Don't let its ugliness fool you, it's incredibly capable."

He flipped the drone over, exposing its belly, and poked the mounting point with his finger.

"At this location, attach an F-1 grenade containing 60 grams of TNT, fly it to the target point, and then crash it!"

He made a "bang" sound, "and then it's quiet on the other side."

"It has been tested in actual combat. A mercenary group in Della City used this to take out 10 strongpoints, including heavy machine guns, without suffering any casualties themselves."

Well… the data is inflated, the results are impressive, and the ending is ultimately positive. But who can verify it? There's not that much time.

Assam's eyes lit up as he listened. He stroked his chin and said, "I have a target client who should be here tomorrow. I can point him out to you, but his identity is a bit sensitive."

"I don't care if it's sensitive or not."

Chen Zheng laughed and said, "I'm not touching his G-spot. I just want to know if he'll be willing to pay up?"

"It cannot be guaranteed."

He shook his head. "But the people behind him are not short of money, I'm sure of that, they have plenty of cash flow."

"Then everything is fine."

Chen Zheng put the cigarette back in his mouth and lit it with a snap. "I hate wasting time with poor people, although I am now too."

"I like high-quality customers~"

When you're a customer, you desperately want the merchant to give you a discount.

When you're a merchant, you wish your customers would pay you right now.

Your position determines your perspective.

Chen Zheng turned to Khalid and shouted, "Go to the front desk and get Assam a room. It's on our floor, close by."

Khalid responded and stood up to leave.

Chen Zheng turned around, walked up to Assam, stretched out both hands, grasped Assam's right hand, and shook it vigorously, his grip firm and warm.

"Don't leave tonight," he said with a smile, "there's some exciting entertainment tonight."

Assam raised an eyebrow, his lips slowly parting to reveal a set of white teeth. "What show?"

Chen Zheng patted him on the shoulder, turned around and called out to Li Yang, "Yang! Go downstairs and ask the front desk if there are any fun places nearby."

Li Yang chuckled, "Want something more formal?"

"You're a model student, and you're still asking this question!"

Li Yang nodded hurriedly and ran off.

Damn... he's the most proactive when it comes to finding women.

Assam stood up, patted the wrinkles on his pants, glanced at the drone again, and shook his head: "I really didn't expect you to even make something like this."

"This is called market demand-oriented."

"Whatever is lacking on the battlefield, I will produce it."

"I'll produce whatever the customers need!"

Assam, "You're lucky you weren't two thousand years ago, otherwise even Jesus wouldn't have been able to afford nails."

That's such a lame joke.

"Let's go, let's go eat first, let's go eat first~"

……

The next day.

Chen was having breakfast at the hotel restaurant.

Mr. Chen has already checked the watch three times.

"This damn thing."

He put his teacup on the table, frowning. "Ah Fei, go upstairs and see if that guy is dead in bed."

Gao Fei stood up and was about to walk towards the stairwell when he saw Li Yang walking out from around the corner, clutching his waist.

His walking posture was off; he supported his waist with his left hand, took small steps, and his facial muscles twitched with each step, as if he had been stabbed in the back.

"Brother Chen... Brother Chen."

Li Yang moved to the dining table and noticed that Chen Zheng's expression was not good.

"You'll die on a woman's belly sooner or later."

Chen Zheng didn't bother to say anything more, "Let's go, let's set off!"

The five people walked out of the hotel and found three Toyota Land Cruisers already rented outside. They got in and drove off.

Japanese cars sell quite well in the Middle East.

The Zahle Convention Center is located in the south of the city, less than a 20-minute drive from the hotel.

The building is not tall, only two stories, with off-white paint on the exterior walls, some of which has peeled off, revealing the gray cement underneath.

A huge banner hangs above the main entrance, which reads "Zahel International Defense Exhibition" in Arabic and English.

Even cats and dogs are now called international.

A queue had already formed at the entrance.

"Ah Yang, you guys hand them out right here at the entrance. Be smart, give more to the guys who look like rich people."

"Alright!" Li Yang picked up the stack of flyers from the back seat, while Gao Fei and Wang Lei each carried a stack. The three of them split up and walked into the crowd.

Chen Zheng stood there for a while, then walked towards the entrance with Assam.

Behind the entrance were several uniformed security guards, with an old-fashioned ticket checking machine and a stack of blank name tags on the table.

There were two burly men in suits standing nearby, their waists bulging, clearly carrying weapons.

"Did we get the tickets?" Chen Zheng asked.

Assam chuckled. "These small exhibitions don't have many requirements. Just follow me."

As he spoke, he walked towards the ticket gate on the far side.

The window was half open, and inside sat an old man with gray hair and reading glasses. On the windowsill was a piece of cardboard with the words "VIP Passage" written on it in marker, but the writing was so blurred that it was hard to read without careful observation.

Assam walked to the window, took a ten-dollar bill from his pocket, folded it in half, and stuffed it into the empty cigarette box on the windowsill.

Then he knocked on the window frame.

The old man looked up at him, then looked down at the banknotes in the cigarette box.

He took off his reading glasses, took two blue admission passes from the drawer, handed them out, and then continued to look down at the newspaper.

He didn't say a word the entire time.

Chen Zheng took it and glanced at it—the admission pass had the word "Exhibitor" printed on it, and there was a gold round sticker on it.

"Money can open any door; with enough money, you can even get into the White House," Assam said with a smile.

Chen Zheng raised his eyebrows, hung the admission pass around his neck, and the two of them entered the convention center through the VIP passage.

What kind of bullshit amateur troupe is this?

The interior of the convention center is larger than it appears from the outside.

The dome was very high, with several rows of fluorescent light tubes hanging from it, illuminating the entire hall.

The floor is terrazzo, polished so smooth you can see your reflection in it. Some areas are covered with red carpet, which has been worn black from being walked on.

The hall was filled with display stands.

The booth arrangements were varied – some were large, some were small, some were exquisite, and some were simple.

The most eye-catching booth was that of a Russian equipment company, which occupied an entire corner. The booth displayed several different models of AKs, a PKM machine gun, and several RPG-7 launchers. There was also a huge poster on the wall with a side view of a T-72 tank.

The booth next door was much smaller, with only a few folding tables, on which were placed several sniper rifles and a bunch of optical sights. Chen Zheng had never heard of the brand; it was probably from some small Eastern European country.

At the innermost part, against the wall, is a T-54/55 medium tank.

It's an old relic; the cannon barrel isn't very long, and the hull is painted a dark green, with some areas where the paint has chipped off, revealing rust underneath.

The tracks were covered in mud, and it looked like they had been driven straight out of a military museum without being wiped clean.

But it wasn't the tank that caught Chen Zheng's eye.

They are the people on the tank.

Two women.

One has blonde hair, and the other has black hair.

The blonde was wearing a camouflage bikini and a military jacket cut in half, with only the bottom two buttons fastened, revealing a large expanse of tanned skin and a deep cleavage.

She held onto the tank turret with one hand and held an AKM in the other, the muzzle pointing to the sky. Her body swayed to the music, her waist so supple it seemed boneless.

The black-haired girl, dressed in a black miniskirt and military boots, with a beret on her head, was circling around the tank's cannon barrel, her steps keeping time with the music. Every now and then, she would bend down and run her fingers along the tank's armor, her eyes glazed over.

A crowd gathered around the area below the booth.

Most of the people were men, young and old, in military uniforms and civilian clothes, locals and foreigners, all craning their necks to watch the two women dance. One of them held up an old-fashioned DV camera, the lens following the waistline of the black-haired woman.

The music was the kind of heavy bass electronic music, with drumbeats pounding against your chest, making your heart pound along with it.

Chen Zheng stood on the periphery of the crowd, arms crossed, looked for a few seconds, and then shook his head.

"Is this some kind of weapons exhibition or a nightclub?"

"What's the difference? They're all selling themselves."

Assam chuckled. "That's how the Zahle trade fair is. Not many people are actually doing business; most are just there for the spectacle. The real buyers are all in the VIP rooms at the back, chatting and drinking tea. They don't show their faces outside."

"If you buy this tank, the seller might even give you the woman as a gift."

Chen Zheng laughed and said, "What you said is discriminatory. Be careful, or you'll get torn apart by human rights organizations."

"They're a bunch of idiots!" Assam scoffed.

Chen Zheng changed the subject: "What about that client you mentioned? Is he also in the VIP room?"

"uncertain."

Assam's gaze swept around the hall. "Let's take a look."

Chen Zheng nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

The two walked along the corridor of the exhibition hall.

The aisle was lined with booths one after another, selling all sorts of things.

Dozens of bayonets of different models were displayed on a stand, ranging from the Mosin-Nagant four-edged bayonet from World War II to modern multi-functional military knives, neatly stacked on a black velvet cloth, with a cardboard sign next to them that read "Collector's item, not for sale".

Another booth displayed a uniform array of bulletproof vests and helmets, ranging from inexpensive to expensive. The cheapest was a Level 2 protective vest made of aramid fiber, priced at $150, while the most expensive was a Level 3 protective vest with ceramic inserts, priced at $800.

There was another booth that was the most outrageous, selling tactical flashlights.

Dozens of flashlights of different sizes were displayed on the stand, shining with different colors of light—red, green, blue, and white—illuminating the entire stand in a kaleidoscope of colors.

A young man in camouflage stood behind the booth, shouting: "Waterproof, shockproof, and drop-proof! 1500 lumens! One charge lasts a month!"

As Chen Zheng passed by, the young man called out to him, "Boss, want one? I'll give you a discount!"

Chen Zheng waved his hand, but suddenly Assam grabbed his shoulder and pointed to a man not far away who was holding an optical sight and looking around.

"That person..." Assam also saw him, and his voice suddenly lowered, "It's him."

"Looks like a big shot," Chen Zheng said, noticing the two bodyguards standing next to him.

Elias Summers, a representative of the Palestinian left-wing faction, the Crescent of Resistance, in the Golan Heights, is also said to have good relations with some high-ranking Israeli officials.

He was already selling weapons before gunpowder was even invented!

Chen Zheng looked at Assam. "Wang Defa? You're not mistaken?"

"Of course, that's just hearsay; who knows?"

"Money doesn't have any right or wrong sides!"

……