Entering the hall of the Republican Palace, a grand state banquet was being prepared. Aside from military and political figures, business tycoons and members of the press had all arrived.
Watching the magnesium lights flash with a series of clicks, Qusay felt very uncomfortable. However, this was a situation he had to face because he was no longer just a soldier in the special forces; he was the son of the President and a war hero.
Among the journalists, there were even reporters from Britain and America. It seemed Saddam Hussein wanted to prove to the Western world that he was fully capable of crushing the Persians.
Qusay did not see it that way. Initially, he thought the President did this to boost the morale of the nation, but overdoing it was not good. Currently, the United States supported Iraq because of Khomeini, who was a die-hard anti-American imperialist. However, if Iraq completely crushed Iran, it was definitely not what the U.S. wanted to see. A powerful Middle Eastern country did not align with American interests; they would keep inciting these two countries to fight until both were weakened.
Dealing with these complex situations was far more troublesome than fighting Persians on the battlefield.
Saddam Hussein walked onto the podium, and the room immediately fell silent.
"For the peace of our Islamic world and to crush Khomeini's shameful export of revolution, we, the great Iraqi people, have bravely launched an offensive against the disgraceful Iranian government to rescue our enslaved compatriots! Over the past year, through our bloody battles, we have achieved great victories. Just a few days ago, the great son of Iraq, Qusay Abdullah, fought heroically and completely wiped out an Iranian armored division that was preparing to ambush us from the rear. Today, let us warmly welcome our war hero and a fine example for the people—Qusay!"
Immediately, the crowd erupted in cheers again, and countless people applauded enthusiastically.
Qusay, wearing a crisp military uniform with a hero's medal pinned to his chest, also walked to the microphone.
"Our Iraq is an ancient civilization with a long history. As early as 4000 BC, the Mesopotamian Civilization emerged. Baghdad, beneath our feet, is the birthplace of the Babylonian Civilization. We are the descendants of the great Prophet Muhammad; we are the masters of this land! Today, the shameless Khomeini has distorted Muslim teachings and seeks to enslave innocent people. We must take up arms and fight bravely to rescue our Muslim brothers. Even if we shed our last drop of blood and only one man remains, we will be worthy of our faith. We are the great Iraqi people! We are invincible!"
The words were hollow and lacked any substantive content, yet they were incredibly infectious.
Qusay's speech made everyone's blood boil with excitement.
Saddam Hussein looked at his son with an indescribable kindness in his eyes. He realized more and more that this son of his was very much like him, possessing a domineering aura that looked down upon the world.
"Excuse me, Excellency Qusay, when you personally went deep behind enemy lines to fight, were you not afraid of being wounded or making the ultimate sacrifice?" a reporter asked.
"Every one of our soldiers is prepared for injury or death. No one wishes for death to find them, but when we join the army, our lives no longer belong to us. They belong to our country and to the people we serve. We do not look back," Qusay answered beautifully. "Of those who went behind enemy lines with me this time, one-third were casualties. However, their sacrifice bought our victory today. We, the Iraqi people, will forever remember their magnificent achievements!"
"Excuse me, Excellency Qusay, do you have confidence in defeating Iran? As far as I know, Iraq has been fighting for nearly a year and hasn't even taken Abadan," a question was asked in stiff Arabic.
In an instant, everyone's gaze turned toward the reporter who asked the question; he was a Frenchman.
The sharp, piercing glares made the Frenchman feel extremely uneasy. If looks could kill, he probably would have died countless times already.
Qusay smiled. Westerners practice democracy and freedom; an ordinary Western citizen dares to question a President's actions, let alone a journalist. Asking such a question was understandable.
"Regarding that, I think you should go ask Khomeini. We just wiped out one of his armored divisions; Khomeini is probably shedding tears in a mosque in Tehran right now!" Qusay said.
As soon as he spoke, the room erupted in a roar of laughter, and even the reporter who asked the question couldn't help but chuckle.
"No matter how nice my words are here, they probably have no practical meaning. Let us wait and see who will achieve the final victory!" Qusay said.
"Very well, the questions end here. Please enjoy the fine meal. If you have any more questions, you may ask them later," the host said.
Music began to play, and waiters carrying drinks entered the hall.
Qusay stepped down from the stage and blended into the crowd.
Although he held the status of the President's son, he had been in school until now and had very little contact with people from various sectors of society. This was an opportunity to get to know the upper class of Iraq and build relationships, which would be of great benefit to him. In the crowd, many people were also watching this sudden rising star; they all knew that the future direction of Iraq would likely have a lot to do with this man.
Even more, some beautiful girls were secretly watching the outstanding young man. They were full of admiration for this hero, and admiration can easily turn into affection.
They all used black veils to cover their faces. There was also a 'Demon King' present here. Although they were of noble status, that Demon King was a notorious lecher; if he took a liking to someone, he would never stop until he got his way.
Uday was hiding in a corner. Today, his attention was not focused on those women. He stared coldly at Qusay, his eyes narrowed into slits.
"Excellency Uday, why do you seem a bit unhappy today?" Oil Minister Shalabi came over and asked.
"It's nothing, I'm just feeling a bit unwell," Uday said, walking out of the hall.
Shalabi's gaze as he watched him leave was full of confusion.
At this time, Qusay was chatting joyfully with the Kuwaiti ambassador.
"Wooo— Wooo— Wooo—" Suddenly, a piercing air-raid siren sounded.
Oh no, an air raid!
"Quick, evacuate the crowd!" The guards responsible for security rushed in, working hard to evacuate the dignitaries.
What a timing! Qusay thought. Iraq's air defense had always had major problems. This time, he definitely had to discuss it with his old man.