351: Chapter 351 The Golden Shield Sets Off

March 25th, outskirts of Saudi Arabia.

Far from the city's hustle and bustle, the view consisted only of boundless desert and occasional rocky hills. But at this moment, thirty thousand silent warriors were gathered on this desolate land.

The massive training ground covered over ten square kilometers, enclosed by high walls and barbed wire. On the field, thirty thousand soldiers stood in neat formation, their black combat uniforms reflecting a faint shimmer under the scorching sun. The same emblem was embroidered on their chests—a Golden Shield, with a line of small text below: "Golden Shield Security."

These individuals came from sixty countries across the globe. Among them were retired snipers from the U.S. Navy SEALs who had set individual kill records on the battlefields of Iraq; commandos from the British SAS who had participated in the rescue of hostages at the Iranian Embassy; combat experts from Russia's Alpha Group who had never been defeated in hand-to-hand combat; counter-terrorism elites from France's GIGN specializing in aircraft hijackings; and intelligence masters from Israel's Sayeret Matkal who could read battlefield dynamics from the slightest traces.

They were once the pride of their respective nations, the elite of special operations. Now, they all wore the same black uniform and had become members of Golden Shield.

Lei Zhan stood on the reviewing stand.

The forty-year-old CEO of Golden Shield Security wore the same black combat uniform but without any rank insignia. There was a faint scar on his face, a souvenir from a mission ten years ago. His gaze swept over the thirty thousand men below, his eyes cold as a blade, yet carrying a nearly imperceptible warmth.

He spoke, his voice carrying to every corner through the loudspeakers spread across the field: "It has been three years."

The entire field was silent, save for the sound of the desert wind.

"You came here from all over the world to receive the most brutal training. Some retired from the SEALs, some from the SAS, some from Alpha. You once fought for different countries, for different beliefs."

He paused.

"But from today on, you have only one name—Golden Shield. You have only one mission—to protect those who need protecting."

Thirty thousand men remained in dead silence.

Lei Zhan raised his right hand.

"Today, Golden Shield is ready."

Thirty thousand men raised their rifles simultaneously.

Muzzles pointed upward, triggers were pulled.

Bang—

The gunfire was like thunder, echoing over the desert for a long time.

April 1st, Presidential Palace, Damascus.

This once-glorious building was now riddled with scars. Bullet holes were clearly visible on the exterior walls, and half the windows were boarded up with wood after being shattered. In the corridors, soldiers patrolled vigilantly; danger could be lurking around every corner.

In the presidential office, Bashar sat in the main seat.

The fifty-five-year-old Syrian President looked exhausted, with sunken eyes and hair that had turned mostly gray. Eight years of civil war had transformed him from a high-spirited young leader into his current state. The desk was piled high with documents, every single one a report of death and destruction.

Lei Zhan sat opposite him.

Bashar spoke, his voice hoarse: "General Lei, Syria has no money left. The treasury is empty, and foreign exchange reserves have hit rock bottom. But—"

He looked up at Lei Zhan: "We can give Golden Shield oil rights. Some oil fields in eastern Syria are still under government control. You can extract from them and share the profits."

Lei Zhan did not speak.

Bashar continued: "We can give Golden Shield reconstruction contracts. After the war, all infrastructure reconstruction will be prioritized for Xingchen Group."

"We can give Golden Shield strategic ports. Russia is using the Port of Tartus. The Port of Lattakia can be given to you."

Having finished, he looked at Lei Zhan, waiting for an answer.

Lei Zhan was silent for three seconds.

Then he said: "Mr. President, Star does not lack money. Golden Shield is here because the people here should not be slaughtered by terrorists."

Bashar was stunned.

He opened his mouth but could not make a sound.

Lei Zhan continued: "Golden Shield's soldiers come from sixty countries. They once fought for different nations, but now, they have a common goal—to make terrorism disappear from this world."

Bashar's eyes turned red.

He stood up, walked to Lei Zhan, and extended his hand: "Thank you."

Lei Zhan shook his hand.

April 10th, an underground bunker in Deir ez-Zor.

This bunker was hidden twenty meters underground, cast from reinforced concrete. It was well-ventilated, well-lit, and even had generators and food reserves. This was the lair of the top ISIS commander, Abu Bakr; in eight years of war, he had never been found.

At this moment, Bakr sat behind his desk, looking at the intelligence he had just received.

The forty-five-year-old Bakr was the supreme commander of ISIS, his hands stained with the blood of countless people. He had personally executed prisoners, ordered the massacre of civilians, and kidnapped hostages for ransom. He feared no one—he had seen and clashed with U.S. special forces, the Russian Aerospace Forces, and the Syrian government army.

But at this moment, his face was pale.

His deputy stood nearby and asked in confusion: "What's wrong?"

Bakr muttered: "The Chinese are here. Golden Shield Security, thirty thousand men, carrying the most advanced weapons."

The deputy was even more confused: "How are they different from the Russian army? We've fought the Russians too."

Bakr looked up, fear appearing in his eyes for the first time: "The Russian army takes prisoners. Golden Shield—takes no prisoners."

The deputy's expression changed as well.

Bakr stood up abruptly and said to his deputy: "Notify everyone to withdraw. Retreat deep into the desert. As fast as possible."

April 15th, Deir ez-Zor desert.

Night, no moon.

The desert night was bone-chillingly cold. The wind whipped up fine sand, stinging the face. Occasional wolf howls in the distance sounded particularly eerie in the empty desert.

But at this moment, something more terrifying than a pack of wolves appeared above the Deir ez-Zor desert.

One thousand Golden Shield drones took off simultaneously.

They were small versions of the Black Bird series, with a wingspan of only two meters, but each carried two small precision-guided bombs. They formed up in the air like a swarm of locusts, blotting out the sky.

On the ground, an ISIS sentry heard a buzzing sound.

He looked up and saw a sky full of light points.

He wanted to shout, but it was too late.

The drone swarm reached the airspace above the target.

Thermal imaging showed over two hundred heat sources fifteen meters underground. That was the ISIS command center, where all the commanders were located.

The aerial commander ordered: "Clear."

One thousand small precision-guided bombs were dropped simultaneously.

They penetrated the sand, the concrete, and the steel reinforcement.

Boom—Boom—Boom—

A series of explosions rang out underground, muffled and terrifying.

Three minutes later, the command center was reduced to rubble.

Over two hundred ISIS commanders, including Abu Bakr, were all buried twenty meters underground.

There were no screams.

There was no counterattack.

Only silent death.

April 20th, near the ancient city of Palmyra.

In an abandoned school, ISIS was holding three hundred hostages.

Most were women and children from nearby destroyed villages. ISIS intended to use them as human shields or to extort ransom.

At eleven o'clock at night, Golden Shield special forces approached quietly.

Wearing night-vision goggles and using silencers, they moved like ghosts.

A sentry stood on the roof, smoking. He completely failed to notice a rope silently flying up from the darkness, hooking onto the edge of the roof.

Three team members flipped onto the roof simultaneously.

The sentry heard a noise behind him, and just as he turned around, his mouth was covered. A flash of a blade, and he slumped down.

Below, other team members had already secured all entrances and exits.

The commander ordered: "Raid."

Thirty team members rushed into various rooms simultaneously.

The ISIS militants were still asleep when they were gunned down in their dreams. Some tried to resist, but the Golden Shield members were more accurate and faster.

Fifteen minutes later, the battle was over.

All three hundred hostages were rescued without a single casualty.

Forty-seven ISIS militants were all killed.

April 30th, the ancient city of Palmyra.

Morning light spilled over the two-thousand-year-old Roman colonnades, dyeing the broken stone pillars gold. This ancient city had survived countless wars and still stood tall.

The last ISIS flag was torn down.

A young soldier threw it on the ground and stomped on it.

Lei Zhan stood at the highest point of the ancient city, overlooking the city below.

An adjutant walked over: "General, the last ISIS stronghold has been cleared. The Syrian government just announced that the civil war is over."

Lei Zhan nodded.

He watched the sun rising in the east and remained silent for a long time.

Then he murmured: "The people here deserve to live in peace."