The Middle East: From War Correspondent to Middle Eastern Influencer

The commander snatched the AK-47 he had just seized from Wu Hen and shoved it into Wu Hen's arms. He then patted Wu Hen on the back and said, "Weren't you going to Benghazi? You wouldn't make it by walking until next year. This vehicle is also going to Benghazi. You're both journalists, so you can travel together! Hold onto your gun. If you encounter any government bastards on the road, remember not to hold back!"

Wu Hen held his recovered AK-47, feeling a surge of joy.

He didn't expect these opposition soldiers to be so straightforward; not only did they not confiscate his weapons, they also helped him find a ride to Benghazi!

"Thank you, sir! May God grant you final victory!" Wu Hen very sensibly performed a hand-to-chest salute, offering a blessing that best suited the other party's wishes, even though he was an atheist.

"Go on, my Chinese friends!" The commander laughed and waved.

However, Mark, the Qatar Evening Post reporter inside the car, did not look too good at that moment.

Mark, 45, is a veteran journalist with 15 years of experience covering war.

Having witnessed countless deaths and understood the cruelty of the battlefield, when he saw Wu Hen standing outside the car window, carrying a huge tactical backpack and holding an AK-47 that could accidentally fire at any moment, his first reaction was to refuse.

"Sir, this isn't standard procedure!" Mark frowned and complained to his commander in English, "We're a professional reporting team, not responsible for transporting armed personnel. He looks like a mercenary!"

The commander clearly didn't understand English, but he could tell from Mark's expression and tone that he was refusing.

The commander laughed, gently placing his hand on the car door: "What? Friends from Qatar, are you unwilling to help this Arab media brother who survived the massacre? This is our Libyan territory."

This is a blatant threat.

In this desert, offending a military officer with a gun is definitely not a wise thing to do.

Mark suppressed his anger. He knew he had no choice. Out of humanitarian spirit, or rather, out of a desire to save his life, he had no choice but to compromise.

"Okay, get in the car." He shrugged.

Without saying a word, Wu Hen opened the back door and plopped inside.

The moment the car door closed, a cool breeze from the air conditioner hit him. For Wu Hen, who had just spent a whole day trekking through the desert, this place was simply paradise.

The off-road vehicle restarted, bumped its way over the roadblocks, and sped off into the distance along the dilapidated road.

The atmosphere inside the car was somewhat oppressive. The driver was a local guide, and Mark sat in the passenger seat, glancing at Wu Hen through the rearview mirror.

"What's your name? Which organization do you belong to?" Mark broke the silence first.

"Wu Hen, intern reporter for Al Arabiya's Libyan branch." Wu Hen placed the AK-47 at his feet and took out a bottle of water from his backpack.

"An intern?" Mark exclaimed as if he'd heard a joke. "Has Al Arabiya gone mad? Sending an intern to a place like Benghazi? Are they trying to save on their meager travel allowance?"

Wu Hen did not refute, but unscrewed the bottle cap, tilted his head back, and took a big gulp of water.

Seeing that Wu Hen remained silent, Mark ignored him and continued, "Listen, kid, I don't care how you escaped from Tripoli, or where you got that AK. War isn't a call to duty; there's no chance to reload here."

Mark turned around: "An inexperienced newbie like you would only be a burden to us in Benghazi. I brought you in out of humanitarian considerations, but I'm not your babysitter!"

Wu Hen stuffed the water bottle back into his backpack.

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Mark," Wu Hen said, feeling the most relaxed he had been in the past two days. "I just need to hitch a ride. Once we get to Benghazi, we'll go our separate ways. I promise I won't interfere with any of your work."

"You said it yourself!" Mark snorted. "Once we get to the outskirts of Benghazi, I'll dump you at the entrance of a UN-run refugee camp. There are Red Cross tents there, and for an intern like you, that's the safest place. As for the rest, good luck to you."

After saying that, Mark turned around, closed his eyes, and ignored Wu Hen.

Wu Hen was also happy to have some peace and quiet.

He closed his eyes, adjusted his breathing, and began to rest.

He needed to recover his strength as soon as possible because he knew very well that the danger had never disappeared, and in fact, the real danger was yet to come. Benghazi was not Bali.

The SUV sped through the night for more than four hours.

As a glimmer of light began to appear on the eastern horizon, the air gradually filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder.

"Wake up! We're in Benghazi city!" Mark patted the armrest.

Wu Hen opened his eyes, grabbed the AK-47 at his feet, and looked out the car window.

Benghazi at this time was even more tragic than in the news footage. The once beautiful streets were now filled with the ruins of bombed buildings and the charred remains of cars.

At the intersection, there were defensive fortifications made of sandbags and old tires, and several armed men carrying guns could be seen moving among the ruins from time to time.

As dawn broke, the entire city was quiet, like the calm before a storm.

"Go directly to our pre-booked safe house in the Hadiga district of the city center. Avoid the main roads and take the side streets!" Mark instructed the driver.

Although he said he would leave Wu Hen in the refugee camp, the situation in the city was unclear, and he dared not stop the car rashly.

The SUV drove into a relatively narrow street, lined with dense, low-rise Arabic-style buildings. The street was deserted, without a soul in sight.

A strange sense of crisis welled up in Wu Hen's heart. This feeling did not come from the system's crisis warning, but rather from his body's instinctive sense of danger after experiencing continuous life-and-death battles.

"Something's not right, this is really strange, it's a bit...too quiet here." Wu Hen's thumb had already silently released the safety on his AK-47.

"Shut up! Stop being so paranoid! This is the opposition's stronghold; the government troops are still dozens of kilometers away..."

Mark hadn't even finished speaking!

"Bang!"

A crisp rifle shot abruptly shattered the morning's tranquility!

Immediately afterwards, there was another loud bang!

The rear window on the right side of the SUV shattered instantly. A bullet grazed Wu Hen's nose and became deeply embedded in the interior panel of the left door!

Glass shards were poured onto Wu Hen.

"Enemy attack! Get down! Step on the gas and charge!"