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Once Maimon slowly unveiled the answer with a smile, everyone suddenly understood that the solution to the question wasn't profound at all; it was just something no one had expected.

On Earth, there weren't just superpowers like the United States and Russia, but also vast developing nations like China and India, alongside developed countries such as Japan and the UK, which boasted smaller territories but significant economic and political clout.

Correspondingly, this naturally included some underdeveloped, or even extremely impoverished, nations.

There are over one hundred and thirty countries and regions in the world, accounting for more than seventy percent of the world's landmass and over seventy percent of its population, collectively known as the Third World. These nations and territories possess enormous markets and rich natural resources, with many situated in strategic locations, holding pivotal status economically and militarily.

However, some countries are terribly situated, critically lacking in resources, and desperately poor. Aside from exercising a vote at the UN General Assembly, they are practically useless. A single flu outbreak can cause turmoil in such a nation; an AIDS case can nearly bankrupt it. Coupled with the devastation from last year's "Mad Mosquito Disease," the entire country is now sparsely populated and desolate, resembling the end of the world.

The Chinese people are like brothers to the forty-nine nations of Africa, but when several of those brothers fell gravely ill, the generous Chinese brothers found themselves powerless to help!

Maimon’s advice to Wang Zhuo was remarkably simple, though costly, and profoundly authoritative. All it took was a one-time investment of a massive sum of money to become the president of some small nation, allowing for the subsequent amendment of the constitution, perhaps even the restoration of monarchy—thereby becoming a sovereign ruler!

"How much capital would be required?"

This question was posed by Major Heidegger. The conversation between the Arab guest and the Chinese guest was so far-fetched that he had already begun treating the topic as a mere story—perhaps one of those Arabian One Thousand and One Nights tales!

Major Heidegger had grown up listening to the One Thousand and One Nights, so he readily conceded that Arabs held the world lead in the art of storytelling.

"It's a bottomless pit," Maimon chuckled meaningfully. "You need to placate the incumbent political figures, satisfy the entire populace so they vote to change the constitution, and you must keep feeding them periodically, or you risk riots or even outright rebellion."

Wang Zhuo shook his head and smiled. "I doubt it would take that much money. I understand these destitute countries; nearly all their modern medical care is dependent on relief from the International Red Cross. Many people have never eaten a full meal in their lives, nor received any education. If one could ensure they are fed, and provide a future for their next generation, then persuading the nation to submit is not as unimaginable as it sounds."

"Easier said than done," Heidegger mumbled quietly.

"My dear Maimon," Wang Zhuo suddenly shifted his focus, asking sincerely, "I wonder what your thoughts are on our country's traditional Chinese medicine?"

"TCM, you say..." Maimon pondered for a moment before smiling. "It is a miraculous form of healing art. Wangchao Wuliang is excellent, and Xinsheng is also very good."

Heidegger interjected curiously, "What is Xinsheng?"

The word Xinsheng was so common and colloquial that even Zhao Yu and the others understood it, immediately perking up their ears.

"Your friends have used Xinsheng?" Wang Zhuo was also somewhat surprised. Maimon kept mentioning Xinsheng, suggesting his interest in this product was no less than his interest in Wangchao Wuliang.

"Of course, and they were quite satisfied with it," Maimon nodded with a smile.

Wang Zhuo noted that Maimon used the character for 'she' (tā) rather than 'he' (tā), realizing this might involve the veiled ladies of the Arab world. Thus, he simply nodded and smiled, choosing not to delve deeper into that topic.

"Then perhaps you would allow me to analyze the health status of these newly acquainted friends?" Wang Zhuo said to Maimon with a touch of showmanship. "I trust my dear Maimon won't refuse my proposal?"

Everyone had their own distinct manner of speaking. Wang Zhuo often prefixed Maimon’s name with der, while Maimon consistently used my friend. Major Heidegger might have found this slightly awkward, but Wang Zhuo and Maimon maintained completely serious expressions.

When the Arab gentleman curiously and humorously extended his wrist for Wang Zhuo to take his pulse, Heidegger shook his head dismissively and let out a dry chuckle. Chinese medicine certainly had its merits, but diagnosing someone’s health just by touching their wrist—wasn't that utter nonsense?

"Mr. Heidegger," Wang Zhuo, noticing his skepticism, turned to him with a smile while holding Maimon’s wrist, "TCM diagnosis involves four steps: observation, listening/smelling, inquiry, and palpation. The moment I looked at you, I could tell you have symptoms of hyperthyroidism to a certain degree. Therefore, you must have eaten something before our joint dinner, correct?"

"Uh..." Heidegger froze instantly. Seeing everyone turn to look at him, he couldn't help but smile wryly and nod. "This truly shocks me. You could actually discern symptoms of hyperthyroidism just by looking! Please forgive my prejudice against TCM; it truly is amazing!"

If Heidegger were not a Major in the British forces, Maimon and the others would have sworn he was a shill planted by Wang Zhuo! Even the most powerful Western medicine requires a comprehensive diagnostic process to confirm a patient's condition, yet Wang Zhuo spotted Heidegger’s ailment at a glance—this was incredibly formidable!

The mysterious Eastern medical art instantly soared to an unprecedented height in everyone's estimation. Even Li Mingxu and Zhao Yu exchanged glances; they hadn't expected things to unfold so dramatically. It seemed Wang Zhuo’s eyes could not only discern the cybernetic bodies of streetwalkers but also couldn't miss the hyperthyroidism of a British soldier!

Wang Zhuo maintained a grave and mysterious expression as he took the pulses of Maimon and the other Arabs one by one. Afterward, he said solemnly to Maimon, "They are all in very good health, with no issues. However, your lungs are somewhat peculiar. Have you experienced shortness of breath or chest tightness recently?"

In fact, Wang Zhuo had already noticed that Maimon had some pneumonia, which was easier to detect than Heidegger’s hyperthyroidism. Through thermal imaging to scan Maimon’s body, one could easily spot localized areas in the lungs showing significantly elevated heat—the pathological response brought on by inflammation.

Diagnosing someone during a first meeting was something Wang Zhuo rarely did. The main reason was that Maimon suited his temperament, and establishing connections with foreign dignitaries this way would certainly be beneficial for future development.

"Shortness of breath, chest tightness?" Maimon frowned gradually, musing, "I haven't particularly felt those things, but lately, in some confined spaces, I occasionally feel a lack of oxygen and difficulty breathing."

"That confirms it," Wang Zhuo said with a smile. "Find some free time and get it checked out at a hospital. The symptoms are very mild; a few injections will suffice."

Heidegger interjected with surprise, asking Wang Zhuo, "Mr. Wang Zhuo, aren't you going to prescribe medicine for Mr. Maimon?"

Wang Zhuo improvised quickly, "I'm here on vacation, so I didn't bring a medical kit with me."

Traveling salesmen peddling quack medicine usually start by talking a big game, fabricating some imaginary ailment for the mark, and then trying to push their ancestral 'Great Strength Pills' or similar items. This type of scam is prevalent not just in China but globally; scammers everywhere employ similar techniques.

Wang Zhuo could have actually prescribed medication for Maimon, but doing so would have meant he hadn't sold the favor completely, and it might have seemed like mere showmanship—Maimon might not have accepted it. Therefore, he referred Maimon to the hospital. Once Maimon had the results from the Western medical scans, he would be utterly convinced.

The Arabs excused themselves first. Heidegger possessed a rare quality of the British: straightforwardness. Wang Zhuo not prescribing medicine for Maimon actually made him believe Wang Zhuo either knew Maimon's condition wasn't serious, or that a regular outside hospital could handle it, making it unworthy of his personal intervention. Consequently, Major Heidegger chatted with Wang Zhuo a bit longer, inquiring about some lifestyle methods for TCM to manage hyperthyroidism, before leaving satisfied.

And so, on his very first day in Britain, Wang Zhuo had performed a small display of skill, stunning a British Major and an Abu Dhabi Prince. It was likely that Heidegger would provide him with certain conveniences in subsequent activities, and Prince Maimon, after his medical consultation, would undoubtedly be completely impressed, accepting him as a friend from the mysterious, great Eastern nation.

Wang Zhuo knew he was rich, extremely wealthy, but he truly dared not claim to be richer than the royalty of Abu Dhabi. Their toys included customized 380 aircraft; their wealth was innate, their extravagance woven into their genes. In this regard, Wang Zhuo, the nouveau riche, truly couldn't compete.

After dinner, resting back at their accommodations, Li Mingxu and the others gathered to chat. Discussing the wealth of Abu Dhabi, everyone became somewhat pessimistic about their current venture to acquire the HMS Illustrious. If Dubai, the second-richest emirate, was that wealthy, wouldn't it be child's play for the people of Abu Dhabi to buy a decommissioned aircraft carrier?

"Besides, that country is coastal; they could easily convert the Princess Royal into a maritime resort or a gambling ship," Zhao Yu expressed his worry.

Deep down, they all hoped to see this deal go through; otherwise, their trip would have been pointless. Moreover, Wang Zhuo was exceptionally loyal to his friends. In the future, when they visited his ship, they might even be able to bring along a few close buddies—how cool would that be!

Kang Yangqiu and Zhou Jiyuan felt this even more keenly. One was a marine engineer who might hold a post on Wang Zhuo's vessel, and the other was a former navy man who would be utterly content just securing the position of First Officer.

As the four of them analyzed whether their trip would prove fruitless, Wang Zhuo knocked and entered, smiling. "Oh, there you all are. I went to knock on Brother Zhou's and Brother Kang's doors, but no one was there."

Kang Yangqiu smiled back. "We saw you were on the phone, so we didn't want to disturb you."

"Come on, I’m taking you out for some nightlife," Wang Zhuo declared with a cheerful wave.

"Where are we going?" Zhao Yu quickly stood up to follow, asking curiously.

"Ah, how could I forget you," Wang Zhuo slapped his left palm with his right fist, patting Zhao Yu’s shoulder with some embarrassment. "I asked Colonel Heidegger to reserve a VIP room at Erminrin. I planned to show you all how corrupt and decadent a capitalist country can be. You’re still young, so you shouldn't come."

"What is that place?" Kang Yangqiu asked.

"It’s the world's largest chain of strip clubs, publicly traded on the London Stock Exchange," Wang Zhuo grinned mischievously, then told Zhao Yu, "You should stay home, wash up, and go to bed early."

Zhao Yu’s expression shifted to one of utter amazement. Though outwardly demure, he was quite a repressed sensualist beneath the surface. Hearing that Wang Zhuo was taking everyone to see foreign women perform exotic dances but leaving him behind made him regret his earlier meekness intensely. If he had known such good news was coming, why had he bothered playing the good boy!