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Tang Dao had come a long way from his humble beginnings, and he had no intention of stopping now. He relished the moniker of "The Lord of War," even if it came with a certain notoriety. To him, it was a badge of honor, a testament to his success in the world of international arms dealing.

As he read the headline in "World People Weekly" declaring that his most significant achievement was toppling Locke Martin, a sense of satisfaction washed over him. It was a reminder of the power he wielded, the influence he had over world events, and the wealth he had amassed.

Locke Martin, a rival arms dealer of considerable renown, had once been a formidable competitor. But Tang Dao's shrewd business acumen, his ability to adapt to changing circumstances, and his unwavering determination had allowed him to outmaneuver and eventually depose Martin from his lofty position.

For Tang Dao, every fighter, every weapon, and every deal was a means to an end. His focus was on profit, influence, and achieving his objectives. He had built a vast network of contacts, navigated the treacherous waters of international politics, and exploited the chaos of conflict zones to his advantage.

He was not just an arms dealer; he was a businessman who saw opportunities where others saw only risks. He had the ability to turn strife and turmoil into lucrative deals, and he reveled in the challenge.

In the world of arms dealing, Tang Dao was a force to be reckoned with. He was a man who had risen from obscurity to become a power player on the global stage. And as long as there were conflicts, wars, and those who sought to profit from them, Tang Dao knew that his place at the top was secure.

The world might bow down to him, or it might fear him, but one thing was certain: Tang Dao was a master of his craft, and he had no intention of relinquishing his position as the Lord of War.

The Strongest Arms Dealer

The next morning, at the early hour of 5 o'clock, activity began.

Tang Dao arrived at Mogadishu Airport, his hands casually in his pockets, observing as the workers set up tanks and armored personnel carriers. The airport staff had been sequestered in a room, and the aviation operations were also under tight control—this was Aidid's mandate.

Cyril stood quietly behind Tang Dao, clutching his briefcase, and watched as the DzSU-57-2 57mm small-caliber anti-aircraft gun was rolled out onto the tarmac. The light glinted behind his glasses, but he lowered his head.

Tang Dao suddenly called out, turned to face Cyril, and gestured toward the array of weaponry and ammunition that filled the airport. "Do you think... I can wage a small local war with these supplies?"

Tanks, armored vehicles, and artillery—these were enough to sweep through Somalia.

Cyril hesitated but then nodded, "Of course."

However, he quickly added, "But all of these will be used within Somali borders?"

Tang Dao countered, "What do you think?"

Cyril replied, "I believe Somalis should have the agency to determine their own fate. External intervention will only exacerbate the chaos here."

"Does the KGB share that sentiment?" Tang Dao inquired, changing the subject abruptly. Cyril appeared perplexed and quickly responded, "What are you talking about?"

Tang Dao applauded and commended, "Fortunately, I've been trained as an actor by the KGB. I may not be as skilled as you in this arena. Can you please show me the contents of that briefcase?"

Cyril clutched the briefcase tightly, "It's just..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Osborne struck Cyril hard on the right cheek. Cyril fell to the ground with a single blow, and Osborne followed it up with a kick to the shoulder. He then picked up the briefcase and shook out its contents, revealing ashes. Tang Dao looked down at Cyril condescendingly.

"I detest excessive chatter. When I tell you to do something, you should do it," Tang Dao remarked.

"Boss, there are video cameras and tape recorders in here," Osborne reported, holding up the devices in his hands and staring at Cyril with a hostile demeanor.

"This... it's just a hobby of mine. I like capturing the scenery of Somalia," stammered Cyril.

What kind of scenery did Somalia offer? Pirates? Children fleeing barefoot from shelling? Was it so difficult to concoct an excuse? Had the KGB been reduced to this state? Or did they simply believe others to be fools?

It seemed like a group of special agents had posted their graduation photos online, boasting about their achievements for fear that no one would notice. Such operations were exasperating. They had been assigned to guard the border after graduation.

"Keep it clean, and make sure General Aidid doesn't see any blood," Tang Dao instructed. The letter he had received the previous day had put immense pressure on him. It claimed that Cyril was a KGB agent, and his uncle had been involved with the KGB in Italy, but their operation had failed, leading to their deaths, and the family had to be eliminated.

Cyril was bound, gagged with a cloth, and placed in a nylon bag. Then Osborne and the others wielded steel pipes and wrenches, beating him brutally. After a brief pause, Cyril stopped struggling, no longer drawing breath. They loaded him into a car and disposed of his body in the sea to become food for the fish.

Chapter 57