Chapter 527: The Arab Division

10 p. m., Huo Er De Sa Military Base, 7th Arab Division camp.

The camp sits on the desert's edge, rows of earth‑colored tents laid out in a grid, with a compacted sand training ground at the center. Though it is deep night, the training field remains brightly lit, and hundreds of soldiers practice bayonet melee, their shouts carrying far in the night wind.

Zhou Tieshan stood on the observation tower, holding a telescope, expressionless as he watched the drills below. The head of security, slender and in civilian clothes, looked more like an accountant than a secret police chief. Yet those who know him understand that beneath that ordinary exterior lies a precise, ruthless political machine.

"Minister Zhou, this is the newly formed 23rd Regiment," the division commander Shadik Alenahayan said, standing nearby. The general, a man in his forties of Arab noble birth, sported a neatly trimmed moustache and spoke Arabic with a distinct Bedouin accent, "The soldiers come mainly from the Nezhi region and Yemen, brave and battle‑ready, but… their discipline needs improvement."

In the telescope's view, a soldier slipped during bayonet practice and was kicked to the ground by the instructor. The soldier rose, offered no protest, and continued training.

"Corporal punishment is common?" Zhou Tieshan asked, his tone revealing no emotion.

"In tribal tradition, this is a method of urging," Shadik replied cautiously, "We are introducing Lanfang Army manuals, but it takes time."

Zhou Tieshan set down the telescope and turned to the Arab general.

"General Shadik, do you know why the Arab Division is being expanded from ten divisions to twenty?"

"To strengthen national defense and protect our shared motherland," the standard answer.

"That is only part of the reason," Zhou Tieshan said as he descended the observation tower, Shadik following behind. "The more important reason is that the President needs a… reliable mobile force. A unit not composed entirely of Chinese, capable of carrying out special missions when necessary."

They walked slowly through the camp. The night desert was cold; the chill wind lifted sand grains that struck the face like fine needles. The soldiers, seeing the general, snapped to attention and saluted, yet cast curious, wary glances at Zhou Tieshan.

"What do you mean by special missions?" Shadik asked tentatively.

"For example, patrolling the Persian Gulf coast to show presence. Or, if needed, crossing the border to 'handle' certain threats," Zhou Tieshan said softly. "And, say, if one day we need to maintain order in a region where locals are hostile to Chinese troops…"

He did not finish, but Shadik understood. The Arab Division is not only a combat force but also a political tool—used to show the Arab world that Lanfang is not a purely Chinese state, to conduct missions in sensitive areas without inflaming ethnic sentiment, and to balance power structures within the army.

"Do the soldiers know any of this?"

"They don't need to know," Zhou Tieshan said, stopping in front of a tent and pulling back the curtain. Inside, a dozen soldiers sat on the ground eating dinner—flatbread, stewed lamb, dates—simple but plentiful. "All they need to know is: swear loyalty to the Lanfang Republic, obey orders, and they will enjoy a life far better than in the tribe."

He stepped into the tent. The soldiers scrambled to their feet, some still clutching flatbread.

"Continue eating," Zhou Tieshan said in fluent Arabic, surprising the soldiers, "I'm just here to observe."

He approached a young soldier. The boy looked under twenty, his face still youthful, yet his palms were covered with calluses.

"What's your name? Where are you from?"

"Reporting, sir, I'm Khalid, from Riyadh," the soldier straightened his back.

"Why did you join the army?"

"For… for the pay, sir," Khalid answered honestly. "Here I can earn thirty dinars a month; back home I could never make that much in a year."

A few low chuckles rose in the tent. Zhou Tieshan laughed as well.

"Honesty is good. So, have you eaten enough now?"

"We're full, sir. Better than eating at home."

"Is the training hard?"

"Hard, but the instructor says more sweat now means less blood later in war."

A standard answer, clearly the result of repeated indoctrination. Zhou Tieshan nodded, patted Khalid's shoulder, and turned to leave the tent.

Outside, Shadik followed.

"You saw it, Minister. These soldiers are simple; they enlisted for money and food. As long as we give them what they can't get at home, they'll be loyal."

"Loyalty can be bought," Zhou Tieshan said, "but it's also the easiest to lose to a higher price. Have your political officers been properly assigned in the division?"

"Three per battalion, two hundred forty in total. All fluent in Arabic, specially trained Chinese officers."

"Their duties aren't limited to ideological education," Zhou Tieshan said, stopping and looking into Shadik's eyes. "They also monitor. What soldiers say privately, their complaints about training, their opinions of officers, even the content of letters home—political officers must know all of that."

Shadik's expression stiffened. A surveillance system that penetrates to the grassroots meant that even the division commander did not have full control.

"General, don't misunderstand," Zhou Tieshan's voice softened a bit, "It's not personal, nor does it reflect distrust of our Arab brothers. It's the system. Chinese units have the same structure. The President's concept is: trust is important, but oversight is more important."

"I understand," Shadik lowered his head.

They reached the command tent at the camp's center. Inside, several senior officers were in a meeting; upon seeing the two enter, they rose immediately.

"Continue," Zhou Tieshan gestured for them to sit, pulling a chair for himself, "I'm listening."

The meeting concerned the training plan after expansion. Twenty divisions, nearly four hundred thousand troops, must complete basic training and tactical coordination within six months. Many problems: insufficient weapons, not enough instructors, limited training grounds, and soldiers' education levels vary widely…

Zhou Tieshan listened quietly, occasionally asking one or two questions. Finally, he spoke:

"Weapon issues will be solved within three days. I'll reallocate from the army reserves. As for instructors, we'll pull experienced NCOs from the 1st and 2nd Chinese Divisions to form an instructor corps. Training grounds… the area around Huo Er De Sa Base is three hundred square kilometers, all designated a military exclusion zone—will that suffice?"

The officers exchanged uneasy looks. Such a large‑scale reallocation required extremely high authorization.

"As for soldier quality," Zhou Tieshan continued, "simplify the training syllabus. Focus on three skills: shooting, earth‑work tasks, and obedience to orders. The rest can be taught in wartime…"

He stood up.

"Gentlemen, time is tight. The Arab Division is not just a military force but a showcase. If this unit succeeds, we can later build more 'localized' forces in Southeast Asia, Central Asia, and Africa. If it fails…"

He did not say what failure would entail, but everyone understood.

After the meeting, Zhou Tieshan and Shadik remained alone in the tent.