At the sa mont, on the other side of the Earth.
Sowhere on the Persian Plateau.
The wind was like countless icy razors, howling as it swept over the bare brown ridges and deeply cut ravines.
Ti here seed to be frozen, leaving only eternal desolation and a sense of deadliness.
An inconspicuous caravan, like a slowly moving beetle, was arduously trekking along an ancient path almost indiscernible due to wind erosion and the passage of ti.
The heavy hooves of the cals clattered monotonously and rhythmically on the rubble, the only rhythm in this dead silent world.
Song Heping was wrapped in a dust-covered Arabic robe, his head wrapped in a dark headscarf commonly seen among local herders, with only a pair of keen eagle-like eyes exposed.
The intense UV rays of the highland had etched deeper marks on his face, with dense stubble erging on his chin, making him blend into this rugged backdrop.
He blended in the middle of the caravan, his identity being that of a "carpet rchant" nad Sayed from Baluchistan.
The heavy cargo on the cals' backs consisted of bundles of coarse wool carpets emitting a strong mutton sll, skillfully concealing weapons and sophisticated communication equipnt inside.
The guide leading the team was nad Kamran, a shriveled, tough old man, his face etched with deep lines, his gaze alert and suspicious like a wild wolf on the highland.
He was familiar with every smuggler's path on this land, every pass that could evade border posts and patrol teams.
He occasionally glanced back at Song Heping, his eyes filled with scrutiny and a barely noticeable trace of awe.
This silent man, who called himself a "rchant," had an indelible sll of gunpowder and a sense of oppression about him, definitely not a good guy.
Strictly speaking, Kamran was a smuggler.
Unlike the drug traffickers from New Golden Moon, Kamran smuggled so contraband from places like Liben.
Things like ho appliances, like mobile phones, and so on.
Years of economic sanctions had resulted in a huge price disparity for ho and electronic products in and out of Persia.
According to statistics, goods worth billions of US Dollars are smuggled in and out of the country annually.
Sotis Kamran would also help transport "snakeheads."
But often the smuggling was out, this ti it was most miraculous, it was smuggling into Persia.
The caravan had just crossed a steep mountain ridge, entering a vast, relatively wind-sheltered gorge.
On both sides were towering, earthy red cliffs like knife-cut ax-chiseled, blocking out most of the sky light, making the valley appear deep and dark.
The wind howling and swirling between the cliff faces emitted eerie wailing sounds, like ghostly cries.
"Stop! Set up camp! We can't cross the 'Eagle Sorrow Gorge' before dark!"
Kamran shouted, his voice echoing in the gorge.
The cal drivers skillfully unloaded the cargo, beginning to search for a wind-sheltered recess in the rock face to prepare for the night.
A few cals knelt down wearily, letting out heavy breaths.
Song Heping walked to the edge of the gorge beside a protruding boulder, from where most of the valley entrance could be observed.
He habitually scanned his surroundings: rugged rocks provided excellent concealnt, but also possibly concealed ambushes; the only water source was a small, almost dried-up stream at the valley bottom; the narrow sky overhead was a perfect hunting ground for drones.
He instinctively touched the cold grip of the handgun hidden inside his sheepskin coat.
Although this place was extrely desolate, one must remain vigilant.
One must never underestimate the capabilities of the CIA.
This ti, he'd quietly left Africa, with all travel plans kept secret from the public, save for only a few people like Ferrari and Avanti knowing his whereabouts.
The route was arranged by Nura, who was originally the head of a smuggling group and now responsible for transporting arms for the company, so organizing a route to Persia was a breeze.
Staying in Africa was no longer safe.
Furthermore, it would implicate more people.
As a leader, one must consider the bigger picture.
No matter which country you stay in, as long as the CIA catches wind, they'd co knocking with the threat of sanctions.
But if he left Africa, where could he go?
Song Heping pondered this question for an entire night.
Since other countries feared US sanctions, why not go to a country that's already been sanctioned by the US for a long ti?
Countries sanctioned by the US for many years include Cuba, North Korea, and there's also Persia and Venezuela.
Cuba and Venezuela were good choices, but getting there was too far, and with the current volatile situation, the further you go, the greater the risk of an incident.
As for North Korea...
Haha...
Forget it.
That only left Persia.
Moreover, the relationship with Avanti and the fact he's long wanted him to go there to be his advisor added to the appeal.
Alright.
So just head to Persia for a while.
The situation in the Middle East has changed again.
The US Army is gradually withdrawing from Illiguo, the northwest is in turmoil due to the expansion of forces like the 1515 military, and Siria is likewise engulfed in continuous gunfire, the cook is mixed up there too.
In the business of defense, chaos is the most conducive to survival.
Thus, selecting Persia seed like a reasonable short-term choice.
Just when Song Heping was carefully observing the terrain, a faint vibration, almost entirely obscured by the wind noise, emanated from the pocket of his closely fitted shirt—it's the encrypted and frequency-hopping satellite phone.
Only a few numbers could reach it.
Song Heping glanced at the screen, quickly darting into a deeper shadow behind the boulder to ensure his figure was completely concealed by the rock before cautiously pulling out the black phone, much thicker than an ordinary mobile phone.
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