Phi-Fic Chapter 899 Going to the Capital
Chapter 899 Going to the Capital
In the capital city, inside the Grand Chief's office, the enormous world map lay silently bathed in soft light.
Fang Yu's fingers gently landed on that green continent, shaped like a giant question mark, sandwiched between two oceans, full of chaos and vitality.
South America.
The moment the name was uttered, the atmosphere in the conference room, which had just been somewhat noisy due to various radical proposals, instantly cooled down.
Several marshals and generals looked at the young man with some confusion. They didn't understand why, when discussing how to retaliate against the behemoth "Bear Eagle Alliance," his gaze was fixed on that land that seemed so distant and "insignificant" on the traditional geopolitical map.
But after the initial, brief moment of surprise, the Great Chief's eyes, which always seemed unfathomable, slowly began to light up.
He exhaled a long smoke ring, his deep eyes seeming to pierce through the simple geographical dividing lines on the map, revealing beneath them a history of suffering, steeped in blood, gold, and sugar for hundreds of years, filled with oppression and resistance.
He quickly understood what Fang Yu meant.
In South America, there is a proverb filled with sorrow and helplessness: "Too close to the eagle, too far from heaven."
This sentence is the most authentic portrayal of the fate of countless people on that red land over the past century.
The United States, this self-proclaimed "beacon of freedom" and "city upon a hill," has never shown the slightest bit of "freedom" and "equality" when dealing with its neighbors in its "backyard." It is more like a greedy, domineering, and capricious landowner.
The giant multinational corporation known as "United Fruits" wields absolute power in many small South American countries, far exceeding that of their governments, and has no say in the matter.
It controls the railways, ports, and communications of these countries, and can even arbitrarily support or overthrow a disobedient government.
All it takes is to label those leaders who dare to defend the interests of their own farmers as "red elements," and then it can legitimately fund the opposition, instigate civil war, and even directly send marines to conduct "armed mediation."
In the banana plantations of "United Fruits," countless local farmers lived lives worse than slaves, under the whips and gun butts of overseers.
The golden crops they cultivated with their blood and sweat will ultimately only become a series of cold numbers in the safes of Wall Street bankers.
For the US, South America is merely its source of raw materials, its dumping ground for goods, and its... strategic buffer zone.
The sovereignty of any country on this continent is as fragile as a piece of waste paper that can be easily discarded in the face of this "big brother's" global strategy.
It is precisely because of this that the flames of resistance have never been extinguished on this land where oppression has made it almost impossible to breathe.
Guerrilla groups rose and fell, appearing and disappearing mysteriously in the towering mountains of the Andes and the humid rainforests of the Amazon.
Using cities as their battlefields and villages as their base, they waged one unequal war after another against the dictatorial military governments supported by the US, with the simplest weapons and the most unwavering faith.
Among them emerged countless names that would give even the US a headache—Fidel Castro, the young lawyer who was leading the Cuban people in an attempt to overthrow Batista's toxic rule; Ernesto Che Guevara, the idealistic doctor who gave up his comfortable life to fight for the oppressed people of the world.
And, far away in Chile, Salvador Allende, the politician who is trying to establish a truly people-centered communist state through peaceful, parliamentary elections…
Fang Yu's meaning was simple and direct.
The goal is for China to become the driving force behind these sparks of hope...
The goal is to equip these resistance forces with the most advanced weapons and the strongest support, and then ignite the entire South America, America's "backyard"!
Let it burn into a massive, truly revolutionary inferno, enough to overwhelm the US and leave them utterly bewildered and disoriented.
When this venomous snake is almost burning its own tail, where would it find the energy to extend its fangs to the distant other side of the Pacific Ocean?
Having figured this out, the Great Leader's face showed a relieved smile.
He stubbed out his cigarette, walked over to Fang Yu, and once again, heavily patted his shoulder.
"it is good."
"Just do as you say."
Then, he turned to President Lu, who had been listening quietly to him with a look of approval in his eyes, and gave him the order.
"Mr. Lu, I'm leaving this matter to you."
"Immediately, in the name of our Dragon Kingdom, contact these people."
"Then, with the highest level of courtesy, formally invite them to our Dragon Kingdom for a...friendly visit."
Mr. Lu nodded.
"Yes."
Soon, encrypted invitations bearing the highest-level seal of the Dragon Kingdom and written with the most sincere words were sent across the vast Pacific Ocean through various secret and special channels, like dandelion seeds, to that red land that was in dire straits.
……
A few weeks later.
In a secluded, damp guerrilla camp in the Sierra Maestra Mountains, Cuba.
The air was filled with the damp smell of rainforest, a mixture of soil and decaying leaves.
Several bonfires crackled and burned in front of the makeshift, rudimentary hut, dispelling the chill of the night and roasting a few pieces of meat from an unknown animal that looked rather bland and unappetizing.
Che Guevara was leaning against a huge fern, carefully wiping his old but well-maintained M1 Garand rifle by the dim firelight.
His handsome face, which always seemed somewhat melancholic and was covered by a tangled beard, flickered in and out of focus in the dancing firelight.
Beside him, several guerrillas, also dressed in tattered military uniforms, were tearing apart roasted meat and discussing the day's battles in hushed tones.
"...Today, those government bastards, they used those new napalm bombs the Americans gave us again. One of our machine gun positions almost..."
"Don't even mention it. Just thinking about those American bastards who only hide behind the scenes and hand knives to our enemies makes me... I wish I could swim across the Caribbean and drop bombs into their White House!"
Just then, a young soldier in charge of communications excitedly ran out of the darkness, carrying an old-fashioned radio that was beeping.
"Commander! Commander! Comrade Fidel is on the phone! He wants you to answer immediately!"
Guevara paused. He put down his rifle, took the still-screeching receiver, frowned, and said, "Hello."
"Hello? It's me, Ernesto."
“Tch,” came Castro’s charismatic, calm, and powerful voice from the other end of the phone, “Did you receive that…gift from the East?”
"Are you talking about that invitation wrapped in silk, with a red dragon printed on it that none of us can understand?"
Guevara's tone carried a clear hint of wariness. "Received. But, Fidel, I have my doubts. The Chinese, at this time, have come to us. What do you think they want?"
"Could they, like our 'Big Brother' in the North (the Russian Bear), just want to use us, to treat us as pawns in their hands to fight against the US... or cannon fodder?" His voice turned cold.
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.
Then, Castro's voice, tinged with a smile, came through.
“Ernesto, my comrade, I know your concerns.”
"But believe me. The Great Leader of the Dragon Kingdom is completely different from that butcher in the Kremlin, whose mind is filled with nothing but 'great power chauvinism'."
He paused, his voice seemingly carrying a hint of reminiscence of the past.
"He is a true believer, the last and purest believer on the Red Front, who still believes in the 'great unity of the people of the world'."
"Many years ago, when I was just an unknown, poor student full of revolutionary ideals, I saw him in person by chance."
"I still remember what he said to us young people from all over the world."
He said, "A single spark can start a prairie fire. This world should not be like this. All oppressed people should stand up. Remember, you are not alone."
On the other end of the phone, Guevara fell into a long silence.
Finally, he slowly exhaled a breath of stale air.
“Alright,” he said. “I trust your judgment, Fidel. So, when shall we depart?”
……
After many twists and turns and overcoming numerous difficulties, Guevara finally reunited with Castro at a secret port in Cuba.
Immediately afterwards, they, along with Allende and several other South American left-wing revolutionary leaders who had also received invitations, boarded a submarine sent by China, disguised as an ordinary cargo ship, and traveled thousands of miles to the capital.
When they stepped off the private plane that had transported them directly from the coastal city to the capital, and onto the land of the Dragon Kingdom's capital, a place imbued with ancient charm yet brimming with futuristic technology.
Even though each of them had already made ample psychological preparations in their hearts.
But they were still completely shocked by what they saw before them.