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

Chapter 76 Brother, stop acting, I'm embarrassed!

Two Toyota Land Cruisers and a pickup truck were driving on a highway outside Zahle.

The convoy turned off the main road onto a side road, where an inconspicuous sign stood, simply stating "Private Property".

The asphalt road ends here, replaced by a smooth gravel road. The wheels make a soft crunching sound as they roll over it, and the car slows down noticeably.

Grass!

Damn it, the road is so bad, it's shaking my kidney stones out.

Inside the pickup truck, Zhao Meng sat in the passenger seat and glanced back. There was something standing upright in the truck bed, covered by a dark green tarpaulin. It was about the height of a person and somewhat shaped like a person, but it was completely covered by the tarpaulin.

The edges of the canvas were tied tightly with rope, swaying slightly in the afternoon breeze.

Inside the pickup truck, Assam's forehead was already beaded with sweat.

He sat in the passenger seat, one hand gripping the handrail above the door, the other constantly wiping the sweat from his forehead.

He turned his head and looked at Chen Zheng, who was leaning back in his chair and munching on a small steamed bun. "Didn't you say you were serious?"

Chen Zheng stuffed the remaining half of the steamed bun into his mouth, chewed a couple of times, and mumbled, "Really? Do you think I could lead a group of people into the heavily guarded Qin Shi Huang Mausoleum and steal the terracotta warriors? If I had that kind of skill, why would I be selling weapons?"

Assam's face darkened. He opened his mouth, somewhat annoyed, "You're playing with fire! My boss hates being lied to!"

"What are you afraid of? I had this made by a professional."

"We use native soil from the surrounding area of the Qin Terracotta Warriors Site in Lintong, with a small amount of powder made from Qin Dynasty pottery fragments. The clay strips are coiled, patted, and trimmed entirely by hand, following the authentic Qin Terracotta Warriors technique. The firing process uses a wood-fired kiln with pine and hardwood, and is slow-fired for eight to twelve hours. It does not crystallize, preserving the original pores of the clay. After firing, it is naturally weathered for three to five years, undergoing an aging process that includes cracks, soil stains, and patina."

"Then send them to the hospital's radiology department for X-ray irradiation to artificially replenish the radiation dose from two thousand years ago."

Chen Zheng spread his hands, his tone filled with a self-assured confidence, "It's not that easy to find out. Let me tell you, if that counterfeiter were sent to Europe, they would treat him like a national treasure."

"In this industrial environment, the skill of hand-rubbing is truly remarkable."

"You know how to forge things?" Assam blurted out.

Chen Zheng waved his hand, "What forgery? It's just that the ancients were missing one, so I had someone make it for them. What do you call that? You call it cultural inheritance. Don't worry, if it were discovered, would your boss kill us?"

Assam shook his head: "That won't happen, my father's name still holds some weight."

That settles it.

Chen Zheng laughed and patted Assam on the shoulder, "Gambling is always all-in, but if there's a safety net, what are you afraid of?"

Never underestimate folk wisdom. The Luoyang Gao Shuiwang Northern Wei pottery figurine case from 1990 is the most classic example. It is a pure handmade high-quality replica of a Northern Wei pottery figurine. The clay used is the original soil from the Northern Wei tomb area in Luoyang. It is fired at low temperature in a wood kiln and naturally weathered to create an antique appearance.

It was sold in Panjiayuan. Experts from the Palace Museum and the National Museum of China determined it to be genuine through visual inspection and thermoluminescence testing. The state spent millions to acquire it.

There are also cases of farmers forging Tang Sancai (Tang tri-colored pottery), many of which cannot even be detected by instruments.

Assam opened his mouth, leaned back in his seat, rubbed his temples, and said with a deep sense of helplessness, "You're going to scare me to death sooner or later."

Neatly trimmed olive groves line both sides of the road, and at the end lies a vineyard with grapevines arranged in neat rows. The vines are just beginning to sprout, and tender green leaves are climbing on the wire trellises.

Behind the vineyard, several buildings are scattered across the hillside in a staggered manner.

The main building is in the very center, three stories high, with off-white exterior walls, a dark gray roof, and carved stone pillars at the four corners.

The gate is a black wrought iron fence, and the gateposts are made of solid granite, one on each side. Each gatepost is topped with a stone lion, and the details of the lions are very finely carved, with even the texture of their manes clearly visible.

"There's a villa area like this in this place?" Liu Yang, who was driving, exclaimed in surprise.

"Rich people are rich no matter where they are. If you give them money, they can even build an elevator for you on Mount Everest!" Chen Zheng said with a smile.

The convoy stopped at the gate.

Assam pulled a black card from his pocket and handed it out the car window. The bodyguard took the card, glanced at it, then pulled a small card reader from his pocket, swiped the card on it, and the reader's screen lit up, displaying a line of green text.

The bodyguard handed the card back and waved to the guard post behind him.

The wrought iron gate slowly opened.

"So much security? Do you really need to be this tight when you, an employee, see the boss?"

Assam said helplessly, "Maybe he's afraid of dying. After all, although he's an illegitimate child, he's still a member of the Khomeini family. Although the United States doesn't issue a formal warrant for his arrest, they are actually hunting him down globally."

Chen Zheng nodded.

The convoy drove along the driveway, the shadows of palm trees sweeping across the cars, the alternation of light and shadow like a slow-motion scene in a movie.

Two cars were parked under the porch: a black Rolls-Royce Phantom and a silver Bentley Continental GT.

Both cars were polished until their paint was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting people's images.

The atmosphere made me feel rather solemn!

Even the usually outgoing Zhao Meng became somewhat reserved.

Assam glanced at Chen Zheng beside him, only to see him look around a few times. "Aren't you nervous?"

"What's there to be nervous about? I'll have all of these in the future!" Boss Chen smiled.

! ! ! !

Assam gave him a deep look, then strode to the main building entrance. The bodyguard at the door recognized him, nodded slightly, and opened the door for him.

"Gentlemen, the rest of you please wait in the living room. Thank you."

Chen Zheng nodded to Zhao Meng and the others, and then followed Assam into the house.

As soon as he walked into the corridor and turned the corner, Mr. Chen's hair stood on end!

Grass!

tiger!!!

A yellow tiger lay quietly at the doorway. When it heard the noise, its eyes snapped up. Its massive size made Chen Zheng feel the blood in his chest boil.

Without any tools, how much can a person feed a tiger?

Just then, a deep voice came from the corner of the stairs.

"Sit down, Pahlavi."

Upon hearing the sound, the tiger let out a low growl, closed its wide-open mouth, rested its chin on its front paws, and narrowed its golden pupils, looking like a house cat magnified a hundred times.

But who dares to masturbate?

Chen Zheng took a deep breath, suppressing the chill that rose from the soles of his feet, then looked up and followed the direction of the sound.

A man is coming down the stairs.

He was in his early forties, not particularly tall, but with a broad frame. The lines of his shoulders supported the dark gray robe, making him appear quite sturdy.

He had a thick, neatly trimmed beard with sharp, angular edges, and wore gold-rimmed glasses behind which were a pair of dark brown eyes.

He had a black headscarf wrapped around his head.

Chen Zheng's pupils suddenly contracted.

Black headscarf.

In Shia tradition, a person who wears a black turban is considered a descendant of the saint.

Not just any imam can wear it; it is proof of lineage, a mark of identity, and one of the most prestigious symbols in the Shia world for thousands of years.

? ? ? ?

Boss Chen started brainstorming. Boss Assam was just an ordinary illegitimate son. What right did he have to wear this thing?

Adding to the other person's attire and appearance, Chen Zheng immediately understood: the other person was imitating his "grandfather!"

Assam stood next to Chen Zheng, bowed slightly, and moved his lips as if about to introduce himself.

Chen Zheng didn't give him that chance.

He took two sudden steps forward, spread his arms wide with his fingers pointing to the sky, and his expression instantly switched from astonishment to ecstasy. His eyes widened, his pupils glowed, his mouth was slightly open, and his lips were trembling.

He shouted in Arabic, his voice filled with an almost pious excitement.

"Imman? It's the Immanuel!!!"

The voice echoed in the spacious corridor, its ending trembling slightly, like seeing a long-lost relative, or like a pilgrim seeing the Kaaba in Mecca.

Then he rushed forward a few steps, bent down, placed his right hand on his chest and his left hand at his side, and performed a standard salamander—the highest and most honorable greeting.

He was bent over so low that his forehead almost touched his knees, and his whole body looked like a folded ruler.

"(May God grant you peace)," he said, his voice filled with heartfelt respect.

The corridor fell silent.

Assam stood to the side, his mouth slightly open and his eyes wide open.

? ? ? ? ? ?

Wait, what's going on?

The man on the stairs was also taken aback.

Chen Zheng straightened up from his bent-over position, but his head was still slightly lowered. He looked up at the man wearing a black headscarf, and his expression had not yet fully recovered from his earlier excitement.

His eyes even reddened slightly, as if he had been struck by some emotion.

"It looks so much like him, so incredibly like him—I thought it was the Imam himself—"

His voice lowered, as if he were talking to himself, or explaining to the person in front of him.

He stretched out his hand, making a vague gesture in front of him as if to depict something, but his fingers paused in the air for a moment before he withdrew them.

"I've seen pictures of the Imam. I was young and didn't understand much then; I just thought he was a very kind old man. Later, I read his books, 'The Government of Islam,' and 'The Interpretation of Hadith.' He became my mentor!"

"When I first saw you, I really thought you were the Imam. You look so much like him."

Assam's lips twitched. He had already realized that Chen Zheng was utterly shameless!

Isn't this just directly praising the other person?

"The Interpretation of the Hadith"?

He can't possibly read anything!

Didn't you see that the boss's expression softened a lot?

The joy in his eyes was almost overflowing.

That was a very effective attempt at flattery.

It's like—if someone compliments you on looking like Daniel Wu, wouldn't you be happy?

"Have you read my grandfather's books?" he asked gently.

Chen Zheng took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as if to calm himself down. "I've read some of it, and I wouldn't dare say I understand it all, but I've memorized every word the Imam said."

He placed his hand on his chest, his voice softening, each word spoken as if reciting scripture: "What we need is not freedom in the Western sense, but independence from the control of arrogance and tyranny. I think about this every day."

"You are a descendant of the Imam, aren't you? I knew it when I saw your headscarf. There aren't many people in this world who are worthy of wearing this headscarf."

The corridor fell silent again.

"My name is Muhsen-Khome X."

Muhsen extended his hand to Chen Zheng.

Chen Zheng hurriedly grasped it with both hands, shook it slightly twice, then released it and took half a step back.

"Bruce, you can just call me Bruce."

Muhsen nodded, turned around, and said with a smile, "Have a seat."

Mr. Chen first bowed respectfully to a photo of an old man on the wall, and then sat down on the sofa.

Muhsen was very satisfied with the other party's attitude.

He glanced at Assam, who nodded slightly, and then turned his gaze to Chen Zheng.

"Assam said you were doing business in Syria."

"Yes."

Chen Zheng nodded. "I do some small processing. I have a factory in the Bekaa Valley. I deeply understand the meaning of the scriptures: 'It is better to work with your own hands than to beg!'"

"Every month I set aside a sum of money to bring hope to the people who believe in Allah. We should help each other."

Assam lowered his head, trying his best to hold back.

Sometimes you have to admire Chen Zheng's brilliance. After all, many Buddhists can't even understand the meaning of the scriptures, so flattery is also an art.

Muhsen said gently, "I never imagined that there would be people among the Asian community who believe in my God."

"This has nothing to do with race. I pursue the truth! I follow the footsteps of others, I cherish freedom, and I yearn for righteousness!" Chen Zheng said with a serious expression.

"and!"

Chen Zheng's expression tightened. "I fought for Arab freedom. What I did was run a small military workshop so that our brothers on the front lines could eliminate the Israelis. I even sold one of my father's houses to supplement our expenses!"

"Long live Allah!!"

Assam was so embarrassed he almost dug his toes out of a four-bedroom apartment! Damn!

Do you really have to act like this?

I'm so scared!

After hearing Chen Zheng's words, Muhsen sighed deeply, "A companion like you shouldn't make you shed tears, Assam—"

"Boss!"

"Don't we have some spare parts that the Iranian Revolutionary Guard is supplying to bubble tea shops through outsourcing? Give Bruce a couple!"

Chen Zheng's breathing became rapid!

ohh~

Did Laozi outsource his materials?

He immediately burst into tears, and then kept thanking Muhsen, saying, "The descendants of the Imams are noble!!"

Assam looked at Chen Zheng, then nodded to Muhsen, "Yes, boss!"