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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 old man with white hair sat cross-legged in the hotel room, his gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, giving him a slightly younger appearance. Steam rose from a cup of hot coffee on his left, and newspapers were scattered across the table. Despite the comfortable setting, his eyes darted around, focusing on Tang Dao and his companions who had just entered.

With a pen in hand, he sketched something on the newspaper. Suddenly, he paused, raised his head, and nodded subtly. A portly man behind him grabbed the newspaper from under his armpit and, after signaling the waiter and leaving some rubles on the table, made a quick exit, subtly approaching Tang Dao.

Assassination? No, it was more covert—discreetly gathering intel. The portly man, equipped with a specially tailored coat hiding a tiny camera, discreetly photographed Tang Dao and his associates. After signaling to his partner, he left without betraying any emotions.

As soon as the old man exited, he shed his disguise and sprinted like a young man, disappearing into a waiting car. It turned out he was not an old man at all but a cleverly disguised operative.

"Did you install the monitoring device?" he asked his partner, adjusting his earmuffs.

The portly man, feeling uneasy after sitting for long, affirmed, "I put it in, chose a few good spots."

However, when the old man heard a high-pitched sound through the earmuffs, he winced in pain. Tearing off the earmuffs, he demanded, "Fake squid, where did you put it?"

Tang Dao, exiting the toilet, felt a sudden pain in his buttocks. Investigating, he found a monitor hidden in the sofa. Quick to act, he discreetly signaled his team to dismantle the devices and check the room again. It seemed their surveillance was discovered.

Nicholas and his group had likely detected the monitors, posing a potential threat. Tang Dao decided to dispose of the devices immediately. The team quickly collected the monitors, submerged them in water, and watched as the water bubbled.

Meanwhile, the disguised "old man" listened in on the situation below but was soon discovered. Panicking, he hurriedly fled to a waiting car, shedding his disguise to reveal his true, youthful self.

Back in the hotel room, Tang Dao inspected the monitors, ensuring they were all neutralized. The team had successfully averted a potentially dangerous situation, but questions lingered. Who was behind this surveillance? Could it be Lieutenant Poppy Ken or another mysterious force?

Tang Dao, maintaining his composure, observed his team's actions. Mist, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration, quickly arranged for a change of rooms. The little angel diligently carried out Tang Dao's instructions, signaling to Mist to close the door discreetly.

In the aftermath, Tang Dao contemplated the incident. How did the perpetrators know their precise arrival time? Was it an inside job? He distrusted everyone, realizing the importance of self-reliance in this line of work.

Despite the potential betrayal, Tang Dao remained calm. Excessive anger would only cloud judgment. The focus was on identifying and eliminating the threat. Betrayal, he knew, often had a price, and his experience in the spy industry had taught him the harsh reality of trust and loyalty.

As his team dismantled the monitors and checked the room, Tang Dao's thoughts circled back to the mysterious assailant. The question lingered—just who was behind this calculated attempt to gather intelligence on him in Kyiv?

Chapter 153