Chapter 477: Prince: I'm Not Here to Sightsee! Please Sell Me Weapons!

"Su Canzan, you're in charge of negotiations; Chief Ding, you're in charge of assessment; Old Qian, you're in charge of final approval," Lu Qingshan said, looking at the three before him and concisely assigning the duties.

His gaze finally landed on Su Mingyuan: "In this negotiation, we must not seize the initiative; we must steer it. We need to make them feel that they themselves are gradually walking into the plan we tailor for them. Chief Ding, your task is the heaviest; I want you, at the fastest speed, to give me a resource assessment report for the whole of Angola, indicating where there are mines, where there is oil, where land is suitable for farming; I need a treasure map precise to coordinates."

Finally, he turned to General Qian Weiguo, his tone full of absolute trust: "Old Qian, you've already seen the weapons list. How to combine and match them to achieve the most brilliant results at the lowest cost—you are the expert. I have only one request: we are not selling a pile of scrap metal, but a key that can help them win the future."

"A key?" General Qian chewed the word, a flash of sharp light in his murky eyes.

"Yes, a key." Lu Qingshan picked up the military satellite phone on the table and pushed it toward the three, "This key, the three of you must personally lead a team to deliver it into the hands of my fourth brother Lu Qingjun. Once in South Africa, all actions will be coordinated by my brother, and you are responsible for professional support. Remember, you represent not a nation but a profit‑seeking multinational corporation."

Su Mingyuan understood instantly, smiled and nodded: "Got it, Director Lu. We're going to deliver 'corporate culture' and 'after‑sales service.'"

After Lu Qingshan finished briefing the Angola matters, Qian Weiguo, Ding Wenjiang, and Su Mingyuan wore solemn expressions.

"Old Qian," Lu Qingshan handed the two specially made military‑grade encrypted satellite phones, one to Qian Weiguo and the other to Su Mingyuan. The devices were heavy, with a cold metallic feel. "One phone is for military and security communications, the other for diplomatic negotiations, both stay on 24 hours, directly linked to me. Remember, for any emergency I must be informed immediately."

Qian Weiguo took the phone, and in his war‑tempered eyes a sharp gleam flickered. He nodded heavily, his voice booming like a bell: "Rest assured! The mission will be completed! If those Africans dare to move a single hair on our people, I'll let the Chief of Staff's simulation plan teach them how to behave!"

Ding Wenjiang adjusted his thick glasses, clutching his treasured canvas bag, his cheeks flushing with excitement: "Director Lu, beneath Angola lie the lifeblood of our nation's future industry! I stake my whole reputation to ensure the mineral distribution map is drawn clearer than my wife's palm prints! I will not betray the nation's trust!"

Su Mingyuan still wore his smiling expression; he took the phone and gracefully slipped it into an inner pocket, as if it were not a communications device but a pen ready to sign a contract: "Director Lu, just relax and wait for good news in the Capital City. You've already set the table; if we can't carve out the biggest, fattest piece of meat, we won't even have the face to come back and see you."

Lu Qingshan looked at the three experts who embodied the nation's top strength, his heart swelling with ambition yet his face remained as calm as water. He solemnly said: "Everyone, this mission carries great responsibility, but safety is always paramount. Remember, once in South Africa, all actions must first follow my brother Lu Qingjun's orders; he is our eyes and ears there."

After seeing the three off and watching their decisive silhouettes vanish at the end of the corridor, Lu Qingshan knew that this crucial piece had already been placed on the most important and perilous spot of the board.

That afternoon, an unmarked transport aircraft secretly took off from the western suburb airport of Beijing, carrying the three experts and their massive support team toward the distant African continent.

The office fell silent again.

Lu Qingshan stood by the window, watching a silver commercial airliner streak across the sky, leaving a white trail.

The African chessboard has been set; now it's the Middle East guests' turn.

Zhang Rongfeng's efficiency was exceptional; the formal invitation issued in the name of the Ministry of Foreign Trade was delivered at top speed to the Saudi Embassy in China. A whole presidential suite, the highest security level, had already been reserved at a hotel in the Capital City.

All preparations are complete, awaiting your entry into the cauldron.

Three days later, Nanyuan Military Airport.

Unlike the low‑key scene when Lu Qingshan returned last time, today's tarmac is heavily guarded.

A Boeing 747SP private jet, its entire fuselage painted a brilliant gold and emblazoned with the Saudi Royal Family crest in Arabic and English, descended smoothly like a golden mythic bird amid a tremendous roar.

The cabin door opened, and the gangway, carpeted in red velvet, lowered slowly.

A young man in a traditional white robe, a red‑and‑white checkered headscarf, handsome features and eagle‑sharp eyes, emerged at the doorway amid a retinue of attendants.

He is Saleman, the most ambitious and decisive young member of the Saudi Royal Family.

Lu Qingshan did not ride in a red flag car today; instead he drove a black Rolls‑Royce Silver Spur imported from Hong Kong Island. He also brought no officials, only Lin Yueqiang.

He stepped forward himself, standing beneath the gangway.

Saleman descended from the plane, his gaze immediately locking onto the lone Eastern man standing there in a plain Zhongshan suit, a faint smile on his face.

No fanfare of officials, no grand welcome ceremony—just one person and one car.

This unconventional reception instead gave Saleman a chill in his heart.

What he sensed was not contempt but absolute confidence.

"Welcome to Huaxia Capital City, Prince Saleman," Lu Qingshan extended his hand, speaking fluent English.

"I have long admired your reputation, Mr. Lu," Saleman grasped the hand, feeling its warm strength, "Your deeds in Europe are even more splendid than the stories of One Thousand and One Nights."

The two exchanged a smile; everything was understood without words.

Lin Yueqiang followed behind, watching the group of white‑robed "foreigners" whose eyes seemed to stretch to the heavens, and glancing at his own brother‑in‑law's carefree demeanor, he kept muttering to himself.

The whole setup, no matter how you look at it, didn't seem like a business meeting at all, but rather a family introduction.

"Prince, you've traveled a long way and must be tired. We won't discuss official matters now; let's first tour Beijing, see the sights, and try our local snacks." Lu Qingshan personally opened the rear door of the Rolls‑Royce for Saleman.

In the following days, Saleman and his entourage, accustomed to luxury, experienced a "cultural tour" they would never forget.

First stop, the Great Wall.

When Saleman stood on the beacon tower at Juyongguan, gazing at the ancient wall snaking like a giant dragon through the towering mountains, he uttered a heartfelt exclamation.

"Mr. Lu, such a magnificent fortification is truly a marvel in human history. Speaking of defense…" he tried to steer the conversation toward his own area of interest.

"Indeed." Lu Qingshan cut him off, pointing at the distant mountains, "No matter how solid a wall, it cannot stop internal decay. Qin Shi Huang built the Great Wall, yet his empire lasted only fifteen years. True defense is the human heart. Come, Prince, I'll take you to try the Capital City's most famous roast duck; I guarantee after you eat it you'll want to swallow your own tongue."

Saleman: "……"

Second stop, the Forbidden City.

Walking across the open plaza before the Hall of Supreme Harmony, Saleman felt the weighty history of the Eastern empire bearing down on him.

"Mr. Lu, I've heard that every brick here has witnessed the rise and fall of dynasties. For a nation to enjoy lasting peace, a strong army is indispensable…"

"Prince, you're right." Lu Qingshan nodded, pointing at the golden glazed tiles in the distance, "But even the strongest army needs money to sustain it. The Qing dynasty's Eight Banners were fierce when they entered the capital, yet later they could not even draw a bow. Why? No money, the treasury was empty. Governing a country ultimately comes down to bookkeeping. Come, I'll take you to listen to Beijing opera; within its lilting chants lie the ledgers of human affairs."

Saleman: "……"

Third stop, they took a dedicated train to Xi'an.

When Saleman saw in person the tens of thousands of lifelike, silent Terracotta Warriors standing in the underground battle formation, he was utterly stunned.

"My god…" he murmured, eyes blazing with fervor, "Mr. Lu! This is exactly what I want—a force that never loses a battle, never fails an attack! Look at these soldiers' gazes; even after two thousand years they still exude killing intent! If I could equip my army with such gear…"

"Prince, look at this horse." Lu Qingshan pointed at a ceramic horse, speaking earnestly, "Did you notice its saddle lacks stirrups? That shows that two thousand years ago Qin cavalry fought by gripping the horse with their legs. That requires tremendous core strength and balance! So equipment is secondary; talent is fundamental. Come, I'll take you to try Xi'an's lamb soup with flatbread, and the sliced cold‑skin noodles from Qin Town—those were military rations back then, the wisdom of the people, best for bolstering core strength!"

Saleman, seeing Lu Qingshan's sincere expression that seemed to say "I'm looking out for your health," finally could no longer hold back.

He felt he wasn't there to discuss arms purchases, but to join a high‑end senior tour composed of cuisine and history.

And the Lu before him was that gold‑medal guide who could always swing a conversation from Mount Everest to the Mariana Trench.

Lin Yueqiang had been thoroughly enjoying himself these days, trailing behind, feasting on delicacies and spicy dishes, and even made a few Saudi friends. He discovered that although these white‑robed men looked intimidating, they were actually decent, just a bit single‑minded; after a bowl of fermented bean juice, they could clutch a trash can and vomit for half an hour, persistently asking him why such a "biological weapon" was allowed on breakfast tables in the Capital City.