157: Chapter 157 The Hero's Ticket

The dawn in Washington had yet to disperse the fog, but the lights of The Pentagon had not slept all night.

General Marshall sat behind that large mahogany desk, looking as if his spirit had been drained overnight.

The ashtray in front of him was piled high with cigar butts, and the air was thick enough to be suffocating.

He stared fixedly at the red secure phone, as if he were staring at a viper that might bite his throat at any moment.

Ten minutes ago, that damn Chinese man had sent an email.

The email contained only two things: an audio recording of him personally ordering the execution of Princess Sophia and "that Chinese man," and a screenshot of all illegal fund flows for Ares Industries in this region—which, of course, had been exported from the computer in Scorpion's command vehicle.

"General, The White House Press Secretary just called. The President will be making a statement on the situation in K Country during the morning news in half an hour."

His aide knocked and entered, his face pale. "They are asking, what is the military's stance regarding the operations of Legacy Defense over there?"

Marshall's fingers spasmed on the desktop.

What stance?

If he said it was an unauthorized operation, that recording would be in every senator's inbox by the next second. At that point, he wouldn't just lose his position; he would be sent to a military tribunal for treason.

That Chinese man had tied him to a chariot with no brakes.

"Tell The White House," Marshall took a deep breath, his voice as hoarse as two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. "Legacy Defense is… a special security contractor authorized by The Pentagon. Their actions are to maintain regional peace and provide humanitarian aid."

"And what about Ares Industries…"

"Let them rot!" Marshall violently smashed the expensive crystal ashtray onto the floor, sending glass shards flying.

"Dump all the dirty water on Ares! Just say they deceived their superiors and even blinded the military!"

The aide shivered in fear and quickly retreated.

Marshall slumped in his chair, looking at the gloomy sky outside the window, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He had originally thought he was using a new knife to cut down an old tree.

He hadn't expected that this knife would develop a will of its own and turn around to press against his own neck.

...

K Country, International Airport.

There was no smoke of war as imagined; in its place were flowers, a red carpet, and countless camera flashes.

Chen Mo had changed into a clean dark suit. Although the collar was still a bit wrinkled, it added a touch of "battle-hardened" weariness to his image.

He stood on the gangway, beside Princess Sophia, who had just changed back into her royal attire.

"Are you ready?" Chen Mo asked in a low voice.

"Are you sure this will work?" Sophia looked at the dense crowd below—there were citizens supporting the royal family, as well as reporters from major Western media outlets. Her palms were still sweating.

"Trust me." Chen Mo straightened her headscarf, his movements as gentle as a true big brother.

"Now you are the victim, the survivor, and the future queen. As for me? I am just a passing knight."

The two walked down the gangway.

The sound of camera shutters rang out like a rainstorm.

Following the "script" Chen Mo had taught her on the plane, Sophia did not go to embrace the waiting ministers first, but walked straight toward the CNN camera that had been waiting for a long time.

"If it weren't for Mr. Chen and his Legacy Defense company, I would be a corpse now, and my country would be plunged into the flames of war."

Sophia's voice was choked with emotion, yet it carried a firm resolve.

"Ares Industries tried to murder me, to murder peace. It was Mr. Chen who pulled me back from hell."

She turned around and, in front of the global live broadcast, bowed deeply to Chen Mo.

At this moment, screens across the world froze on this image: a Middle Eastern princess bowing in gratitude to an Eastern private military contractor.

And thousands of kilometers away in New York, Ava Rockefeller was sitting in an office full of data streams, commanding the internet trolls and media matrix that had been prepared long ago.

Twitter trending #1: #LegacyDefenseSavesPeace

The New York Times headline: From Corpse Collector to Guardian—Unmasking the Man Who Stopped the War.

Even the usually critical The Wall Street Journal had published a re-rating of Legacy Defense's valuation—soaring directly from "junk grade" to "unicorn."

Chen Mo stood on the red carpet with a perfectly modest smile on his face; that was the best mask the "Thousand-Faced Deceiver" had given him.

He saw a few officers in US military uniforms standing on the periphery of the crowd. The colonel leading them had an ashen face, yet he was forced to give him a standard military salute.

Those were the men Marshall had sent.

"Mr. Chen."

Sophia suddenly turned around and, in front of everyone, took off the black pearl bracelet that symbolized her family's power from her wrist and placed it on Chen Mo's.

"To thank you for saving my life, and for the future of this country.

I, in the name of the Al-Thani family heir, announce that for the next fifty years, all oil field security and oil transport protection work in K Country will be exclusively contracted to Legacy Defense."

Whoosh—

The scene was in an uproar.

The reporters went crazy. This wasn't just a contract; this was equivalent to handing over the entire country's economic lifeline to this private company!

This was worth far more than hundreds of billions? This was practically receiving a license to print money!

Chen Mo looked at the cold beads on his wrist, but his heart didn't have many ripples.

Because he knew this was just part of the deal.

He had made it very clear to Sophia on the plane: I want your oil, you want my guns.

In this place surrounded by wolf packs, without the protection of Legacy Defense, her crown wouldn't last three days.

"It is my honor, Your Highness." Chen Mo held Sophia's hand, leaving a meaningful handshake close-up for the cameras. "Legacy Defense, mission accomplished."

...

Late that night, Washington Dulles Airport.

As soon as the private jet came to a steady stop, a black sedan with Pentagon license plates slid up to the gangway.

The window rolled down, revealing Marshall's gloomy face.

"Get in."

Chen Mo shrugged, letting Nightingale and the others leave first, and ducked into the hearse-like sedan himself.

There was a jammer running in the car, and the silence was deathly.

Marshall didn't speak, just handed over a document. It was the "Global Special Security Cooperation Memorandum" just signed by The Pentagon, commonly known as a "privateer license."

With this piece of paper, Legacy Defense's armed personnel could legally carry weapons in any war zone where the US military was stationed, and even call upon military transport aircraft.

"You won." Marshall stared at Chen Mo, his eyes complex.

"Robert Rockefeller just had a sudden heart attack and 'committed suicide' at home. The board of directors of Ares Industries is currently restructuring, and your old flame Ava is taking the opportunity to acquire their shares at a low price."

"Robert was a decent man." Chen Mo tossed the document aside without even glancing at it. "I didn't want my friend to go too painfully."

"Friend?" Marshall sneered. "Then what about me? Am I your friend now too?"

"Of course, General."

Chen Mo took a USB drive out of his pocket; it was the backup of the recording. He gently placed the USB drive on Marshall's knee.

"As long as you are still in that position, and as long as Legacy Defense still needs orders from The Pentagon, we are the best of friends."

Chen Mo leaned in closer, staring into the old man's eyes, just as he had stared at the dead Scorpion in the desert.

"After all, in this world, only shared interests and shared secrets can make a friendship last forever. Don't you agree?"

Marshall looked at the USB drive on his knee as if he were looking at a grenade that could explode at any moment. After a long while, he closed his eyes and nodded powerlessly.

"Get out."

"Sweet dreams, General."

Chen Mo pushed the door open and got out, walking into the cool night wind of Washington.

Just at the moment his foot touched the ground, the system in his mind that had been silent for a long time suddenly emitted an unprecedentedly crisp notification sound.

This sound was no longer the cold electronic tone, but sounded like the overture to some grand movement.

[Ding!]

[Detected that the host has unilaterally changed the trajectory of a regional war through three methods: public opinion, military, and capital.]

[Detected that the host has obtained deep binding with a sovereign state (K Country) and successfully controlled a core figure of The Pentagon (Marshall).]

[Preconditions met.]

[System upgrading... Lv.4 - Lv.5]

[Congratulations to the host, you have broken away from the status of a "pawn" and officially possess the qualifications of a "chess player."]

[New functional module unlocked: Faction Aura.]