In the early morning on the Persian Plateau, the secret encampnt hidden within the mountain folds gradually awoke, with noise replacing the silence.
The influx of thousands of newly recruited tribal militia and their families instantly made the originally temporary outpost into a vast and lively place, while also bringing imnse managent and settlent pressure.
Jiang Feng and Samir barely slept all night, their eyes bloodshot yet appearing exhilarated.
They shuttled between the temporarily marked training and living areas, shouting with hoarse voices, organizing the youth militia — still weary and undisciplined from fleeing — into groups, distributing limited weapons, and explaining the most basic tactical discipline and camp regulations.
anwhile, Naxin, along with a few mbers knowledgeable in chanics and civil engineering, was busy expanding the barracks and servicing the few outdated generators and water pumps to ensure the basic operational needs for life and defense.
The camp was bustling with dust and voices, filled with chaotic yet orderly activity.
Song Heping stood silently on a high slope on the edge of the camp, observing everything.
It seed that although the foundation of this militia unit was forming, every step was like walking on thin ice. Food, dicine, weapons, ammunition, fuel...
Each was extrely scarce, and maintaining this force of thousands consud astronomical numbers daily.
Just then, the encrypted satellite phone in his pocket vibrated.
The screen displayed a familiar number.
"Mr. Avanti."
Song Heping pressed the answer button, his voice stable.
"Song, I heard you made quite a gain last night."
From the other end of the line, Avanti's voice carried a trace of imperceptible amusent but quickly turned serious: "The 'seed fund' promised to you is ready. A one hundred million US Dollar oil quota, and the relevant docunts have been approved. You need to co to Tehran, and we will discuss in person."
Song Heping said, "Understood. What do I need to prepare?"
"Bring yourself, and necessary caution," Avanti said succinctly, "Co as soon as possible."
Ending the call, Song Heping took a deep breath of the cold air of the highland, suppressing the emotions surging within his chest.
One hundred million dollars!
This was undoubtedly a tily assistance, enough to change the survival and developnt trajectory of the entire "Liberation Forces."
Before military action, logistics must be prepared.
Nothing is as urgent as the need for money.
He quickly descended the slope and found Jiang Feng, who was overseeing the training.
"Jiang Feng."
"Old Commander, what's up?"
Jiang Feng imdiately ca over.
"I need to go to Tehran imdiately."
Song Heping said concisely, "For now, you are in full charge of all matters in the camp. Samir and Naxin will assist you. Focus on military training and internal managent, and they will handle external communication and tribal relations. In major decision-making, discuss among the three of you, and if undecided, prioritize self-preservation."
Jiang Feng's gaze sharpened, showing no hesitation: "Understood!"
Song Heping firmly patted his shoulder; everything was said without words. He turned and called Naxin over, briefly explaining the situation.
"This operation must be absolutely confidential. I will go alone."
Song Heping's tone brooked no argunt.
Naxin hesitated for a mont but then understood.
Persia is full of hidden dangers.
The previous attempt to assassinate Song Heping at the hospital said it all.
That's why Song often preferred to operate solo.
It was, in fact, safer this way.
He nodded: "Understood, I will prepare everything. The 'Sand Fox' squad will be on standby, ready to respond at any ti."
With little farewells, a modified off-road vehicle, refueled, drove out of the bustling camp, carrying only Song Heping, heading into the vast mountains of the Persian Plateau.
A full day's journey awaited, long and tedious. Scenery outside the car window continually changed, from the desolate, barren highland mountains to hills dotted with oases, finally entering a slightly flat area with an increasing population.
On either side of the straight but slightly worn highway, large propaganda posters could be seen occasionally, depicting religious slogans and the leader's images.
Checkpoints also beca more frequent, but whenever Song Heping's car's special license plate and credentials were shown, the sentries imdiately saluted and let them pass.
A one hundred million dollar oil quota, for this fledgling Resistance Army, was undoubtedly a fortune that could sustain, if not propel, their growth.
With this money, he could buy enough food and dicine, acquire more weapons and ammunition, and arm those militia eager to return to Illiguo to reclaim their land.
However, he also clearly knew the enormous risks and challenges hidden behind this one hundred million US Dollars.
Firstly, converting the oil quota into cash posed a daunting challenge.
Oil was not as easily portable or tradable as gold or diamonds, requiring complex shipping and sales channels.
In the current international climate, Persia's oil exports faced strict sanctions, with conventional routes almost completely blocked.
Song Heping lacked experience and connections in oil trading; this was uncharted territory for him, like crossing a mountain range.
He began pondering possible solutions in his mind...
Perhaps contact oil brokers on the international black market?
Or transport the crude oil out of Persia through so gray channels?
But these ideas were just vague shadows; he had no clear plan on how to execute them.
Secondly, once this huge fund began operating, it would inevitably attract attention from various forces.
The Arican intelligence agencies, dostic rivals in Persia, and even international criminal organizations all might covet this one hundred million dollars.
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