Chapter 638

Chapter 638: Arms Dealer

Those outsiders naturally couldn’t figure out the changed layout of the Tal Shegheib air force base, especially with Syrian soldier Kan Bell Buddy providing cover for Lin Mo. He skillfully led him safely to the parking area.

"Thank you!"

Lin Mo genuinely expressed his gratitude and pulled out a stack of hundred-dollar bills, handing a dozen of them to Kan Bell Buddy.

Ever since the “monstrous” project was completed, the Dragon Knight suddenly had more than enough money. If Lockheed and the American military found out, they would be furious; they had almost fully sponsored a Chinese man to develop the world’s most advanced fighter jet.

If a bloodbath erupted, Lin Mo might feel satisfied, but the “Demon Hunter” team back in Damascus, along with two mechanics, would be in grave danger.

The organizing committee of this international pilot death match would be driven mad. If all the participating pilots and their teams were wiped out, what was the point of the upcoming battles? This year’s "Abyss Nirvana" would surely become a laughingstock, affecting future events as well.

Kan Bell Buddy looked at Lin Mo, his face slowly reddening. He was only doing this to repay Lin Mo for the generous tip.

The money Lin Mo offered far exceeded the value of the help he provided; just this stack alone was nearly equal to most of Kan Bell Buddy’s military salary for several months.

Most of the funding for the opposition forces was used to buy war supplies, leaving low-ranking officers and soldiers with very little pay. Many volunteers didn’t receive any payment at all. Ideals and justice were one thing, but families needed to eat—that was an undeniable fact.

In the end, he accepted the money, lowered his head, and quietly said, "Thank you!"

Kan Bell Buddy really needed the money, especially the hard currency that was the U.S. dollar.

Since the outbreak of the Syrian civil war, prices had skyrocketed, and his wife and children were struggling to make ends meet. Lin Mo’s few dollar bills were like a timely gift in the snow, even if it contradicted his previous principles. He had no choice but to accept.

This was not a transaction, but a heartfelt mutual assistance. Kan Bell Buddy felt deeply grateful to this generous foreigner; this money would greatly help him, perhaps even allow him to move his family to Lebanon or Turkey for a while.

"Do your best!"

Lin Mo patted him on the shoulder, sensing the burdens he carried. He gave a military salute and then turned to board the plane.

When nations rise and fall, the people suffer. News reports constantly show foreign citizens in dire straits; thus, the sentiment holds truth. Weak nations lack justice and are often manipulated by powerful forces. Once they lose their usefulness, they are mercilessly discarded when the light fades.

Setting aside justice and morality, every soldier with a protective mission deserves respect.

Kan Bell Buddy returned a firm military salute to Lin Mo’s back, watching until he disappeared at the boarding gate.

This AN-12 transport plane could carry up to 90 people and load 20 tons of cargo. Inside, it was arranged without cargo space, filled entirely with new seats that were not too cramped.

The seats, suitable for Western body shapes, were quite spacious and surprisingly had beautiful flight attendants dressed in camouflage short uniforms, making for a pleasing sight.

Lin Mo was not the only passenger on the plane; about forty people were scattered throughout the cabin, including soldiers and businessmen or politicians in suits. They were all passengers heading to Damascus, and perhaps “Abyss Nirvana” was taking advantage of its strength to dabble in civil aviation during the war.

After all, in the chaos of battle, both sides’ anti-aircraft forces wouldn’t bother distinguishing between enemy and civilian aircraft in the sky. Any flying craft risked being shot down.

Paying a premium for a reliable ticket seemed necessary.

With the help of the soldier-like flight attendant, Lin Mo secured his military backpack and found a window seat.

"Hello! I’m Burke Evila, an arms salesperson."

As soon as Lin Mo settled in, a business card was handed to him from the seat behind.

Was this person being friendly or had ulterior motives?

Lin Mo turned to look closely at the man, who was in his thirties, with chestnut hair that was already mostly gray. Despite having a clean-shaven face, he couldn’t hide the signs of aging.

The intense competition in the arms business and the danger of battlefield operations had drained the youth from arms dealers, despite the substantial pay and commissions.

Feeling puzzled, Lin Mo accepted the business card. Burke Evila stood up from the back seat and sat beside Lin Mo, smiling slightly, and extending his hand, asking, "May I ask your name, sir?"

"Number 13!" Lin Mo said, eyeing him from head to toe as they shook hands, unsure of what this man’s intentions were in approaching him so directly.

Outside the cabin window, some soldiers surrounded the AN-12, trying to board the plane.

These guys finally found Lin Mo’s location, but unfortunately, the armed personnel from “Abyss Nirvana” guarding the plane showed no mercy and stopped them outside.

The Syrian soldier who had helped Lin Mo did him a great service when a sharp-eyed person spotted Lin Mo sitting in the cabin and started pointing and shouting. They jumped around, but they couldn’t break through the interception by “Abyss Nirvana” armed personnel.

The armed personnel responsible for maintaining order were no pushovers either. Without hesitation, they swung their rifle butts, knocking down several of the intruders. They then chambered rounds and opened fire, hitting a few unlucky ones in the legs, ordering them to retreat.

Such a fierce response rendered those blustering individuals completely powerless. These armed personnel truly dared to shoot and fight, and their combat strength was not weaker than any special forces in the world, which made those seeking revenge against Lin Mo very wary.

“Number 13?”

It seemed to be an ominous number. Burke Evila frowned, suddenly seeming to think of something. Just as he was about to speak, he noticed that Lin Mo seemed to read his mind and nodded.

"That’s right, pilot!"

“Ah!?” Burke Evila widened his eyes, realizing that what Lin Mo said confirmed his guess—he was indeed a pilot.

Could it be that he was a contestant in the "Abyss Nirvana" international pilot death match?

Known as the graveyard and final resting place for pilots, this deadly competition mostly left only a handful of survivors. With billions of people worldwide, there were always a few reckless individuals, which had given rise to this brutal and high-tech competition.

Amidst the endless death, there was still a glimmer of hope. Behind that hope lay countless business opportunities.

This was far more appealing to the wealthy elite and influential figures than the unskilled underground black market fighting matches.

“Nice to meet you! I’m a representative from Skler Arms Trading Company. I hope I can offer you assistance.”

Burke Evila earnestly introduced himself to Lin Mo again.

“Thank you!” Lin Mo nodded without appearing overly flattered by the other man’s enthusiasm.

“May I ask where your team is?”

Burke Evila clearly knew a lot about the “Abyss Nirvana” international pilot death match.

"They are already in Damascus! I’m heading there to meet them now."

Information about the Gathering Point in Damascus wasn’t a secret, especially since the flight would reach its destination soon; Lin Mo had no qualms about sharing it with others, as it would be common knowledge in just a few hours.

“You, you aren’t a participant from the Anti-Government Forces, are you?”

Burke Evila exclaimed in surprise, losing his composure.

This was the Gathering Point for participants from the Anti-Government Forces; it was almost equivalent to walking into enemy territory.

A sheep in a tiger’s den surely met a grim fate.

Yet, this man appeared healthy and lively on a plane heading to Damascus. How did he manage to board?

Unless he was a voluntary participant with no regard for life, all pilots from various countries would be closely protected by elite warriors.

How could this pilot, so bold as to travel alone without a bodyguard, not realize that those lurking in the camp were ready to take down any opponent?

“That’s right, I belong to the government army!”

Lin Mo dismissed Burke Evila’s alarm with indifference.

In fact, he had already endured the scary situation that Burke imagined, but he had come out unscathed, leaving the other side in a worse position.

Burke Evila’s exclamation drew the attention of other passengers in the cabin, who all cast respectful glances at Lin Mo. This level of bravery truly left them in awe.

"You have some nerve," Burke Evila said, profoundly impressed, shaking his head in disbelief. He suddenly lowered his voice and asked, "Did you participate in your personal capacity?"

He genuinely hoped that Lin Mo was a private competitor, which would mean Skler Arms Trading Company could find a suitable supporter.

In such chaotic battlefields, arms dealers truly thrived; when cannons fired, fortunes followed. War, beyond death and destruction, could bring enormous wealth.

As long as there were people, arms dealers would never let the war stop. Countless wars were ignited for the sake of business.

If one performed outstandingly in the war, it would be more effective than the best advertisement. The word spreads faster than lightning within the industry; as long as they earned recognition from war clients, orders would continuously pour in.

“No!”

Lin Mo’s single response shattered Burke Evila’s expectations.

“I already have a sponsor—the National Defense Star Aerospace Company from China.”

“National Defense Star?”

Burke Evila racked his brain, searching through all his memories but had never heard of this arms company.