Chapter 1274: Chapter 1107: What Can I Give Him?

What’s wrong with making some videos?

Everyone loves to watch them!

Rio de Janeiro Channel, Syria Channel, Liberia Channel, Congo Channel, Hunter Group Channel, and most importantly, the Sangha Town Channel…

All kinds of elements are included: entertainment, politics, primitive style, travel, and more!

Boss Qiao always wanted to start an internet TV station, but it was always hindered by a lack of content and professional staff…

Now, it’s all set. There’s no need to exert effort. The foundation for an internet TV station is in place. As long as each channel’s content is well-managed and slightly improved in quality, it will meet Boss Qiao’s needs.

When taking a group of reporters to tour the hospital and school, Boss Qiao chatted with them one by one, inviting some to join the new website, hoping they would create some self-media side businesses to boost their income…

Wallace, an old acquaintance of Boss Qiao, watched as this big shot subtly shifted concepts, coaxing a bunch of peers to register on the new website as certified media people. He wanted to laugh but didn’t dare…

Listening to Boss Qiao using advertising revenue shares to entice a bunch of top journalists, making them beam with smiles and loudly shout ‘Thank you, boss,’ and then promising to work hard on this new track…

Just as Wallace was about to sigh, King Kong covered his mouth and shoved him into the hospital’s storage room…

The emergency physician TC was the main force leading the rebuilding of the hospital…

This guy has the talent for living off others. Jemma Alexander, such an incredible woman, was inexplicably charmed by this cowboy.

Seeing Ayu close the storage room, then cross his arms and stand guard at the door, TC gave Ayu a thumbs-up, then took out a bag of medicine and handed it to Dorian, saying, “Bro, a lot of strange people have come to the hospital these past two days. What are they here for?

I saw a G·I·D Company researcher you caught from the Congo among those people. Don’t tell me the boss plans to conduct drug experiments here…”

Dorian listened, smiled mysteriously, and said, “It’s Muto who came. He’s the son of Dragon Gecko…

You probably know Dragon Gecko has many witch medicine formulas. Those people came to study the witch medicine!”

Upon hearing this, TC curiously said, “Witch medicine?”

Dorian shrugged and said, “Yes, witch medicine. Their first experiment is to industrialize Sangha Town’s specialty mosquito coil.

Of course, they’ll also experiment with other things…

The content may be a bit brutal, so they need some damned volunteers. The terrorists from the base and those fearless mercenaries are good subjects.”

Upon hearing this, TC curiously said, “Can I go and have a look then?”

Dorian shook his head and said, “Sure, while you’re at it, help keep an eye out for any suspicious people around.

Our boss had some unpleasant experiences in Brazil. He needs to use witch medicine experiments to lure some bastards out and take them down…”

Upon hearing this, TC glared and said, “That man-eating estate?”

Looking at Dorian, who nodded slightly, TC finally understood—what lab, it’s all bullshit, this is just bait…

TC, who came from the Air Force Rescue Team, rubbed his hands, showing a mouthful of white teeth, and said, “Can you count me in?

I see only two teams guarding the place, not enough people. Count me in. I’m also very interested in these bastards who treat their kind like pigs and dogs…”

Dorian glanced sideways at TC, who loved living off others, and disdainfully said, “Do you know what those two teams are?

One is Delta Force, the other is SAS. They aren’t in the special forces sequence but are placed in the intelligence department’s field operations sequence, just for situations like this.

You, an Air Force mule living off others, should stay out of it!”

Saying this, Dorian raised his phone, hugged TC for a photo, and posted it on his new media account…

“Bro, since we’re friends, let’s add each other as friends and give mutual likes. Oh, and let your fiancée give me a like too.

I now have 800,000 followers. Any random ad I post can earn me tens of thousands, but I think I can still improve a bit.”

TC gave a middle finger, displeased, and said, “FUCK YOU, Elephant…”

…………

“FUCK YOU, Vanguard…”

Far away in the Syrian Secure Zone, Alisa cursed into her phone before hanging up and showing a smile in the mirror…

A Kurdish girl in uniform looked at her commander curiously and said, “Sir, are you happy or unhappy?”

Alisa turned her head to look at the girl beside her, shook her head slightly, and said, “I’m happy, but I want Vanguard to think I’m unhappy.

This guy, for the sake of a few thousand bucks, posing with models, looks awful. If it weren’t for Water Snake telling me, I wouldn’t have known he took Team B to party with models.”

The Kurdish girl’s development occurred during the war, so she didn’t understand Alisa’s love affairs much and changed the topic, saying, “That Soleimani has been lurking around the secure zone. Should we drive him away?”

Alisa listened, smiled, and said, “No need, that guy is here to contact our boss…

By putting himself in the secure zone, Soleimani is showing weakness!”

Saying this, Alisa opened her phone, took a quick look, transcribed a line of information onto a piece of stationery, and then sealed it in an envelope…

“Find someone to give this letter to Soleimani…”

…………

Soleimani sat in a hookah bar, looking at the people around him with relaxed expressions…

He also didn’t expect the situation in the Syrian Secure Zone to be better than he anticipated.

As an important hub of the humanitarian corridor, it provided many job opportunities…

Currently, the northeast of Syria remains chaotic, but the surroundings of the secure zone are unexpectedly peaceful.

This unique social and political environment has caused people from northeastern Syria to gather in this direction.

Supported by the flow of people, the petroleum industry set up by Boss Qiao has flourished…

Soleimani didn’t really understand the secure zone. He hadn’t even seen the zone’s manager appear in the streets.

Only occasionally would a few Kurdish girls, under soldiers’ protection, go to the center of the secure zone to post important documents on the bulletin board.

Otherwise, except for soldiers’ regular and systematic networked patrols, there was no sign of other managers.

Dressed inconspicuously, Soleimani sat in a corner, listening to the surrounding chit-chat…

Most people’s chat content was about what goods would arrive recently and which goods were selling well…

Virtually no one discussed P·B. Soleimani tried asking, but only got cold glances in return…

Locals held P·B in high respect. They felt outsiders coming to pry was an ignorant offense.

Just as Soleimani was considering changing locations to observe some more, a boy with a small cap ran into the hookah bar…

After looking around, the boy walked up to Soleimani, placed a letter on the table, and then extended his hand, saying, “Someone asked me to give you this letter. She said you would give me twenty pounds…”

Soleimani paused, waved to stop his guards from standing, then picked up the envelope, opened it, and after reading the content, his eyes lit up. He directly took out two hundred-pound notes and handed them to the boy…

Then Soleimani stood up, walked outside, and said to his assistant, “At 2 AM, the Israelis will deploy four F-16s to bomb our military base in Syria…

Notify our people to be ready. We must keep the Israelis this time…”

The assistant, incredulous, said, “Boss, is this information reliable?”

Soleimani stood at the hookah bar’s entrance, gazing at the nearby Martyrs Camp, nodded slightly, and said, “That Hu Lang is an extraordinary guy; he knows what I need…

What I need to consider now is, what can I offer him?

What can I offer him?”