For Tajik Zarlhad, this was a dark day.
"To hell with peace talks!"
He returned to his camp, roaring loudly at his adjutant.
"Those damn traitors! Betrayers! They've sold our country to those white pigs and now they want us to talk peace! To hell with peace talks! We will fight those bastards to the last moment, never compromising!"
"But we are running out of funds..."
"Damn it!"
Hearing this, Zarlhad also shouted angrily, slumping into a chair, silent. However, just at that moment, his phone suddenly rang, and Zarlhad picked it up, answering the call.
"Who is it?!"
"Hello, Mr. Zarlhad."
A very gentle and peaceful voice came from the other side of the phone, speaking in Zarlhad's native language, but Zarlhad had never heard this voice before.
"Who are you? How do you know my phone number?"
"Who I am is not important; what matters is that I can provide you with everything you want."
"Hehehe."
Hearing this, Zarlhad sneered coldly.
"So, a philanthropist after all."
