Chapter 83

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Chapter 83: Conquering with Fists

"J-10? Can anything from China really perform? Hearing you say that makes me question the performance of the Pioneer-4. If such a common aircraft can’t shoot it down, could the Pioneer-4 be worse than we imagined?" Lawrence Cotler picked up an unburned cigar from the ashtray, seemingly competing with the dark-haired East Asian young man to blow smoke rings at each other.

"How could that be? Chinese military fans highly recommend it, claiming that its range and speed exceed the Stinger by 20%. Those specs can’t be faked! Shouldn’t we replace our two old F-14s? They’re really outdated. I recommend getting a J-10; getting a J-14 would be even better. Products made in China offer unbeatable value!"

The dark-haired young man smiled cheerfully, resembling a door-to-door salesman showcasing his products, expertly listing the features of what he had to offer.

"Please, no more recommending Chinese goods. That country is filled with copies. I still believe European and American products are the best. But you do have a point; those old F-14s are behind the times. I heard they almost crashed last time due to parts replacement issues. I also heard that old Ratika is saving up to buy a Su-27. We can’t lose air superiority, but in a place as small as this, why bother equipping with fighter jets? This has turned into an arms race!" Lawrence Cotler shook his head, expressing disinterest in the wealthy feuds in such a remote area. If it weren’t for the military buffer and natural barriers against the government troops nearby, he would have cleared out all competitors long ago.

"Also, arrange to sponsor a batch of weapons for the East Turkestan militants in China to stir up some trouble. Consider it a gesture of goodwill, showing the Chinese that our ‘Red Scorpion’ is not to be trifled with," Lawrence Cotler nonchalantly decided on a plan that disregarded human life, indifferent to how many might die.

"Alright, alright, enough complaining! Here, look at what I brought you!" The dark-haired young man took a large backpack from the attendant and began pulling out items. "Look, fine West Lake Longjing tea, brick tea, Pu’er tea, Tieguanyin. Here, besides lamb, there’s camel meat. I smell terrible after that; tea is much better, it can neutralize the smell and soothe the stomach. Oh yes, and fine Hetian jade—perfect for impressing the ladies! Just find a girl you like, shove a piece of jade into her bosom, and I guarantee she’ll belong to you tonight!" He laughed as he showed off the jade to the Persian beauties swimming in the lake, clearly drawn to one of them.

But Lawrence Cotler frowned, his expression growing serious. "That’s enough, Haus. You should focus more on your work instead of wasting time like this. Be careful or the boss will cut out your tongue!"

The moment he mentioned "the boss," the dark-haired young man froze, his face slowly paling. He stopped rummaging through his backpack, spun his eyes around, and slapped his forehead, exclaiming, "I just remembered; the Chinese may have been focusing on us lately. That’s not good! Dealing with the Kazakh government is already trouble enough, adding the Chinese government would be terrifying. When I came back, I had already sent some people to eliminate several of their ‘nails.’ We need to enhance our defense and carefully screen strangers. I need to alert that Frank guy immediately! Maybe those Chinese special forces have already infiltrated Aysulu and are aiming their sniper rifles at our heads!"

Ignoring his backpack, the young man hurriedly ran off in panic.

"What a jinx!" Upon hearing Haus mention snipers, a chill ran down Lawrence Cotler’s spine. He cleared his throat unnaturally, adjusted his collar, and snapped his fingers.

Another attendant dressed in black appeared at Lawrence Cotler’s side.

"Have Mustafa take his men to thoroughly inspect all of Aysulu and look for any unfamiliar faces. If anyone seems suspicious, detain them immediately! Anyone who resists will be shot on the spot!" Lawrence Cotler was shaken by the dark-haired young man’s last comment.

Mustafa was the ‘Red Scorpion’ sheriff responsible for Aysulu, a Turk who was extremely cunning and ruthless. He was sought after by the international police, and when there was no escape from his situation, he ultimately turned to the ‘Red Scorpion.’ His notorious cunning earned him the sheriff position, where he played the loyal watchdog for the organization.

Although a rebel faction, they still needed to manage local affairs, as unchecked chaos wouldn’t benefit the stability and growth of the ‘Red Scorpion.’ After all, many of the subordinates had families to feed.

A squad of fully armed soldiers brought the disarmed Lone Wolf Yakov and his fewer than one hundred loyal men to a camp enclosed by concrete modular walls.

Yakov was surrounded by the most loyal and dependable elite, while the others pretended to be another surrendering faction that would enter the ‘Red Scorpion’s territory from behind. This was quite normal; armed groups often merged or split, with those unable to survive joining the stronger factions, and if the strong lost their grip, they would also face betrayal. This law of the jungle, where the weak are devoured by the strong, was a well-known survival rule in this area.

There were quite a few people in the camp, dressed in various styles, from old Soviet military uniforms to Uyghur ethnic clothing and Kazakh attire. Like Yakov’s group, they were all ragtag soldiers who had recently come in through their networks, each claiming territory for themselves. Some sat at tables, others gambled, while some fought openly amid the chaotic atmosphere.

Mixed in with Yakov’s crew, Lin Mo at first glance appeared no different from the Central Asians, having smeared his skin with a special dye. His sharp eyebrows were accentuated, giving him a slight resemblance to Kazakh features, which clearly indicated that Yakov was experienced in disguises.

By chance, Lin Mo learned that Yakov, this old bandit-like figure, had once been with the KGB of the former Soviet Union. After the dissolution of the USSR, he returned home and formed a squad, taking on work as a mercenary to make a living.

Though called a military camp, it was hardly better than a prison or concentration camp. The moment Lin Mo and Lone Wolf Yakov entered, they attracted the stares of the onlookers, much like wolves eyeing a lamb—ferocious and bloodthirsty, emanating sheer brutality.

Those who risked their lives for a living were hardly different from beasts. In their eyes, there existed only money, people, and guns; morality and law were non-existent, and nothing could bind them.

"So it’s Lone Wolf Yakov! Ha! You can’t make it anymore, can you?" someone in the crowd recognized Yakov.

"Hmph!" Yakov grunted through his nose, ignoring the guy.

"The guy talking is called Machete. He’s a tribal leader from the western desert. I heard that last year, he was surrounded by Chinese and Kazakh troops, so I didn’t expect him to still be alive," Yakov softly translated and explained to Lin Mo. His dedication, stemming from his KGB background, meant that after being paid, he treated Lin Mo as his best client, ready to assist in whatever Lin Mo wanted. "Be careful; these guys are not easy to deal with. Though they were scattered by the government army, they are all killers."

"Understood!" Lin Mo remained calm, touching the gray bracelet on his wrist. Upon entry into the basin, the ‘Red Scorpion’ soldiers were more ruthless than bandits. They provided meals, but apart from a few personal items and ethnic knives, they confiscated all firearms and ammunition, leaving no long weapons behind.

Lin Mo had been clever and disguised his gold coins as an inconspicuous, roughly made iron bracelet.

The mention of "Machete" by Yakov spurred a burst of laughter, suggesting Yakov’s reputation as Lone Wolf was quite well-known in the Kyzylkum region.

"Yakov, I once brought you in to share the spoils and seize territory together. You were reluctant then and even dared to threaten me, but where’s that spirit now? You joined the ‘Red Scorpion’ and are slurping up the leftover soup like everyone else," Machete clearly had some previous grievances with Yakov and didn’t plan to let him off easily.

Pushing through the crowd, Machete strode toward Yakov, followed by a large group of his henchmen.

His tone revealed that he aimed to demonstrate authority over the newly arrived Yakov’s crew, pleasing the ‘Red Scorpion’ while inflating his own status to gain better treatment in the reorganization.

With his hairy chest exposed and covered in scars, a large knife wound ran from his left ear down across his nose, where his ear had been severed, leaving only a hole. His brown-yellow pupils glinted with ferocity as he glared at Yakov and the others.

Lin Mo, with a white scarf half concealing his face, remained silent. Though he didn’t understand the words being spoken, he immediately sensed that the newcomer intended trouble.

“Damn Machete! He comes here looking for trouble! Mr. Morin, you should step to the back,” Yakov’s wrinkled face twisted in anxiety, yet he showed no fear, quietly ordering his men behind him. “Aimak, Shadin, protect Mr. Morin. Azati, Shalkan, be ready. Don’t scatter. Teach these ignorant fools a lesson!”

“Hey!” Yakov’s expression remained stoic, clearly familiar with such challenges.

Two men shielded Lin Mo and moved him to the center of the group.