83: Who are we? Arms dealers.

"What's the quantity! Speak quickly!" an officer rushed over and roared.

"Forty! Forty high-speed targets! They are flying towards us!"

"What?!"

Everyone in the monitoring room was in an uproar.

Forty high-speed targets?

Which country has gone mad, wanting to launch a full-scale air strike against The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia?

"Report this immediately! Sound the highest-level air defense alarm!" The officer's voice was trembling.

Before the order could be relayed, the red encrypted phone on the command console rang.

The officer scrambled to answer the phone.

"I am Sultan."

From the other end of the line came the calm voice of Your Highness the Prince.

The officer jolted and immediately stood at attention.

"Your Highness!"

"Cancel the air defense alarm." Sultan's order was simple and clear.

"What?" The officer suspected he had misheard, "But Your Highness, there are forty unidentified targets..."

"Those are not unidentified targets." Sultan interrupted him, "They are my friends."

"All air defense units, turn off fire-control radars, and prohibit any form of firing."

"Let them come over."

Hanging up the phone, the officer stood stunned in place, his mind a complete blank.

The Prince's friends?

Friends who come to visit flying forty fighter jets?

What kind of god-tier friendship is this!

One hour later.

Riyadh Air Base was brightly lit.

With a huge roar of engines approaching from afar.

Forty silver-gray f-15 "Eagle" fighter jets landed on the runway in perfect formation, one after another.

Prince Sultan stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of the control tower, watching the fighter jets steadily park in front of the hangar, trembling with excitement.

He did it!

That man named David really only took one week to deliver weapons capable of overturning the war situation to his doorstep!

Without anyone knowing, without a trace!

An air force general of The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia walked over quickly, his face full of undisguisable shock and ecstasy.

"Your Highness! Our mechanics have checked them!"

"All the aircraft are... brand new!"

"The factory serial numbers are consecutive! You can't even find a speck of dust on the engine turbine blades!"

"This is practically just off the production line!"

Sultan took a deep breath, suppressing the ecstasy in his heart.

He turned around and looked at Jameson beside him.

Jameson bowed slightly and handed over a document.

"Your Highness the Prince, this is the handover list for the first batch of goods, please take a look."

"The remaining apache and A10s will be delivered in subsequent batches."

"Very good! Very good!" Sultan patted Jameson on the shoulder hard.

"Give my regards to David! Tell him, he is my most trusted friend!"

Jameson showed a professional smile and spoke at the right moment.

"Your Highness, for the convenience of subsequent delivery and maintenance, and for closer cooperation between us."

"My boss hopes to rent a piece of land in the Najran region in the south of your country."

"We want to build a small airport and maintenance center there at our own expense."

Prince Sultan was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter.

He understood.

The other party wanted to establish a permanent outpost base on his territory.

In the past, this would have been absolutely impossible.

But now...

"Rent? What rent!" Sultan waved his hand, full of spirit.

"Pick any land you want! I will pay to build the airport!"

"Tomorrow! Send someone to choose the site tomorrow!"

Upon hearing this, Jameson immediately called David.

"Boss, Prince Sultan not only agreed to our land rental request, but even wants to pay out of his own pocket to help us build the airport."

"Is this a bit too enthusiastic?"

On the other end of the phone, David was sitting leisurely in a leather boss chair in his office, legs crossed.

He chuckled.

"Enthusiastic?"

"No, Jameson, this is not enthusiasm."

"This is awe after being scared out of his wits."

David picked up the coffee on the table, took a sip, his eyes revealing a sharpness that saw through everything.

"One week, forty brand new F-15 fighter jets appeared on his doorstep without anyone knowing."

"The shock this brought him is even greater than us directly sending troops to flatten his neighbor's capital."

"He looks at us now just like he would look at gods. Let alone giving a piece of land or building an airport, if you tell him now..."

"...that you want to build a toilet next to his palace, he would have to hand you the toilet paper himself."

Jameson was silent for a moment on the other end of the phone, evidently digesting David's simple and crude explanation.

"I understand, boss."

"Then wouldn't our threat be too great? An organization that can establish military bases on its own territory at will..."

"Threat?"

David interrupted him.

"What are we? Arms dealers, we are businessmen."

"Tell Sultan that the airport will only station a maintenance and security team of less than one thousand people at most."

"We do not interfere in any internal affairs, we only provide after-sales service for our 'products'."

"Is a base of less than one thousand people a threat to him?"

"No."

"Then that's it." David put down the coffee cup, his tone becoming unquestionable.

"He needs our weapons to win the war, and we also need a stable outpost base to radiate across the entire Middle East."

"This is a win-win, or rather, a 'win-win' he has no choice in."

"You personally oversee this matter, and build the airport for me at the fastest speed!"

"If money is not enough, say so; I want it to become our strongest bridgehead in the Middle East!"

"Yes, boss!"

Hanging up the phone, David stood up and stretched.

It was time to go see his army and how prepared they were.

Free Army Ministry of Defense building.

This was once the supreme command center of the Government Army, now, it has a new owner.

Inside and outside the building, soldiers in various military uniforms could be seen hurrying about everywhere.

Some of them were wearing desert camouflage, some were wearing urban combat uniforms, and they wore the new armbands of the Free Army on their shoulders.

The atmosphere was solemn and tense.

In this sea of green, a young man wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans looked particularly eye-catching.

David walked into the building leisurely, hands in his pockets, humming a tune that wasn't quite a melody, as if strolling through his own backyard.

The guards at the door saw him, didn't even question him, and immediately stood at attention and saluted.

In the lobby, several officers from the former 1st Division who were discussing work saw David's attire and all showed expressions of curiosity and confusion.

"Who is this? Coming in dressed like this?" a young officer asked his companion in a low voice.

"I don't know... looking at the guards' attitude towards him, he must be someone important."

"Could it be a young master from some big family, here to experience military life?"

Their discussion was not loud, but enough for people around to hear.

An officer of the Free Army passing by, with several medals hanging on his chest, heard it.

He glanced coldly at those officers who were gossiping.

That look was as sharp as if he wanted to kill.

The few officers from the former 1st Division instantly shut their mouths, a layer of cold sweat seeping from their backs.

They recognized this officer; he came from the most fearless Death Sworn battalion under Commander Oliver.

He had more blood on his hands than they had drunk water.

To be able to make such a ruthless person so respectful...

They didn't dare to think any further, and all lowered their heads, pretending to be busy with the documents in their hands.

David ignored everything around him and walked straight to the commander-in-chief room on the top floor.

When he pushed open the heavy metal door, the top brass of the Free Army who were in a heated discussion inside all looked over in unison.