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At this moment, Fang Cheng was expressionless, seemingly lost in thought.

Guo Zhenhua looked at Fang Cheng, a hint of nervousness creeping into his heart. Despite holding only the rank of Major General, his background made him acutely aware of the immense power this young man wielded.

"Mr. Fang?"

"I'll consider it further," Fang Cheng said, glancing at him indifferently.

After all, Grade A armor alloy was the most advanced material in Fang Cheng's possession. Until the Hive Laboratory developed something even better, he wasn't ready to sell it just yet.

As expected, Guo Zhenhua's expression showed a hint of disappointment upon hearing Fang Cheng's words, but he quickly recovered. He pulled out a business card from his suit pocket and offered it with both hands. "Mr. Fang, this is my card. Please feel free to contact me anytime if you come to a decision."

"Certainly," Fang Cheng said with a smile, accepting the card.

The dark gray card simply displayed the three characters of Guo Zhenhua's name and a phone number, presumably his personal contact information.

Guo Zhenhua extended his right hand and shook hands with Fang Cheng.

As they were shaking hands, a commotion reached Fang Cheng's ears.

"Stop!"

A clone bodyguard responsible for security shouted loudly from the periphery.

Hearing this, Fang Cheng turned his head to look at the newcomer: a bald man in a dark suit and tie, who appeared to be Caucasian, though his complexion was noticeably darker than that of a typical Westerner.

A Middle Easterner! Fang Cheng deduced.

"Mr. Guo!" the bald man in the suit shouted, waving his right hand, "I have something more to say to you."

He spoke in surprisingly fluent Mandarin Chinese.

Hearing this, Guo Zhenhua turned to look at the bald man, a look of apology on his face. "Ambassador, I regret to say that I am unable to assist you."

With that, Guo Zhenhua bid farewell to Fang Cheng and got into his car without looking back, ordering the driver to leave immediately. The driver obeyed, and the Hongqi sedan sped away, leaving the bald man looking dejected.

Fang Cheng looked at the dispirited middle-aged man and asked curiously, "Yunmeng, check this person's information for me."

"Okay, Fang Cheng."

Inside the Hongqi sedan.

Guo Zhenhua had just gotten into the car when a man in a military uniform leaned over. "How did it go?"

Guo Zhenhua closed his eyes and shook his head.

The man beside him sighed. "It was to be expected. After all, who would casually sell such advanced materials?"

He then changed the subject. "By the way, I saw that Imari fellow coming to find you again just now."

Hearing this, Guo Zhenhua opened his eyes and sneered. "What can he do by finding me? He overestimates me too much. Although the old man is in that position, how can any single person arbitrarily change such major national strategies?"

"That's true. Weak nations have no diplomacy!"

Guo Zhenhua seemed to think of something upon hearing this and nodded in agreement.

Imari, male, current Syrian Ambassador to China, graduated from...

It's him!

Fang Cheng looked at the information in his mind and stroked his chin.

He had a basic idea of what Imari wanted from Guo Zhenhua. Not long after the United States launched an airstrike on Syria last time, Syria was plunged into civil war again.

The Syrian civil war, which had lasted for six years, had reignited.

Although Russia and the United States had both exercised restraint this time, their proxy war had broken out again in war-torn Syria.

Moreover, the anti-government forces, heavily supported by the United States and the United Kingdom, were driving the Syrian government forces back.

Even Russia's covert assistance on several occasions could not reverse the government forces' decline.

In fact, the Syrian government couldn't understand why they, who had been in a dominant position, were being driven back by the anti-government forces.

But regardless of their confusion, the situation was what it was.

The government forces originally controlled more than 60% of the territory, but now they occupied less than 40%. It could be said that they were in a precarious situation. Otherwise, Imari wouldn't have tried everything possible to humbly seek help.

Imari had originally hoped that China could directly send troops, but no matter how he negotiated with the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the result was negative.

The reason was simple, and Imari knew it: directly sending troops was not in line with China's national interests.

But the government forces were now at their wit's end. Without foreign aid, they were likely to lose the war, and Syria would be controlled by Western countries, just like Saudi Arabia.

China naturally didn't want Syria to be controlled by Western countries, but Syria being completely controlled by Russia might not be in China's interests either.

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At this time, the key was to wait and see and focus on developing itself.

China wasn't very interested in sending troops to Syria, but Fang Cheng was somewhat interested in it. Perhaps planting a seed would be beneficial in the future. Fang Cheng seemed to think of something and made a decision.

"Have Zhao Anquan send someone to contact him," Fang Cheng instructed Yunmeng.

"Okay, Fang Cheng."

Imari watched Guo Zhenhua's car speed away, clenching his fists tightly, his heart filled with grief and indignation. He couldn't help but think of the situation when he attended the Security Council.

When he stood on the stage refuting that the Syrian side did not have weapons of mass destruction, the representatives of Western countries were either whispering to each other or playing with their mobile phones. In the end, they simply ignored the representatives of other countries and chose to leave directly.

They completely treated his defense as farting, no, even worse than farting.

In the hearts of those Western countries, they had long planned to launch airstrikes on Syria and provoke the Syrian civil war.

Thinking of the situation in the Security Council at that time, Imari felt his heart bleeding, but he knew that war-torn Syria could no longer withstand any fighting.

Syria's domestic economy had completely collapsed, people were living in dire straits, and large numbers of refugees were fleeing everywhere, as if only by staying far away from their homeland could they have a glimmer of hope. Syria today was like the end of the world.

"Drive," Imari instructed the driver from the back seat.

"Okay, sir." The driver saw the dejected look on Imari's face through the rearview mirror and felt a sense of sorrow in his heart.

As a Syrian citizen, he felt deeply powerless because of his country's weakness.

Sometimes, he wished that the weapons of mass destruction that Syria was accused of by the Western world were real, so that they could let those Western countries taste the taste of weapons of mass destruction.

Imari didn't know what the driver was thinking. He sat in the car, closing his eyes to rest.

"Master, you have a call!"

Suddenly, the voice of Imari's smart assistant sounded. He picked up his phone and looked at it. It was an unfamiliar number.

"Connect!"

After thinking for a moment, Imari ordered Crescent Moon in his mind.

A moment later, the phone was connected.