Farming Life Starting in Africa

"What's wrong? You're running out of stock?" Rosen asked.

Old Zhou picked up a large cloth bag from behind him and placed it on the table.

"I just finished a deal with the Red Turban Army last month, and the new goods are still stuck at the port," Old Zhou said with a hint of helplessness. "They'll take a few more days to arrive."

Rosen glanced at the cloth bag. "How many do you need? When do you need them?"

"Sixty rifles, twenty thousand rounds of ammunition," Old Zhou blurted out. "I have to leave Uller the day after tomorrow."

Rosen mentally went over the numbers. Sixty AKs and twenty thousand rounds of ammunition—he had enough in stock. He considered it for a moment and said, "Then let's do it tomorrow morning. I'll contact you. Sixty AKs, I'll give you twenty-four thousand. The ammunition will be sixteen thousand, that's forty thousand. Add that to the V-Rayos, and it'll be a total of sixty thousand dollars. I'll also throw in two hundred magazines."

In a regular army, carrying six or seven magazines is standard equipment for a soldier. But here... the matchmaking system in the African region is quite something.

When armed groups go out to cause trouble, they're considered well-off if each person can carry two magazines in their pocket. Most people have one magazine in their gun and a pouch of loose bullets in their pocket, and when they run out, they just load them back into the magazine on the spot.

So two hundred magazines were more than enough for them to distribute comfortably. Moreover, Rosen was offering him relatively low prices, since this was essentially cross-selling among competitors.

After listening, Old Zhou nodded readily. He reached into his clothes and pulled out two lumps wrapped in yellowed old newspapers.

Rosen took it, weighed it in his hand, and found it to be quite heavy.

He opened a corner and took a look; it was a gold ingot. Each ingot weighed about a kilogram, and while the quality wasn't top-tier, it wasn't bad either.

The gold that Lao Zhou gave him each time was around 22K purity, not quite 24K, but still considered high-quality. It was probably rough gold, roughly refined from some small gold mine, enough to barter for goods.

The two gold ingots are worth $40,000 to him. The four custom-made racing drones cost $20,000 today. So he still owes $20,000 in final payment.

Rosen didn't open the newspaper to examine it closely; he simply held the gold coin in his hand, weighed it, and estimated that it was about right.

He casually stuffed the gold ingots into his pocket, actually putting them into his capsule space. What good person would carry two such heavy things in their pocket? Their pants could easily get pulled down if they weren't careful.

"OK."

Old Zhou smiled slightly when he saw how readily he accepted the bag. He pushed the large cloth bag on the table forward a little further. "Here, for you. A little surprise."

"Hmm?" Rosen lifted a corner of the bag and peeked inside.

It was a black suit with a white shirt underneath. A small cardboard sign was pinned to the collar with a string of incomprehensible foreign words written on it.

"Bulletproof?" Rosen looked up at Old Zhou.

Old Zhou smiled and nodded. He had spent a considerable amount of money, plus a gold coin from a mainland hotel, to get this suit from a retired assassin.

This kind of bulletproof suit is not available for purchase outside of the market, and there are no distribution channels for it.

Only elite assassins from mainland hotels are qualified to purchase this equipment; it's considered their exclusive gear. Occasionally, it can be found reselling on the black market, but the prices are prohibitive for ordinary people.

Rosen ran his hand over the fabric; the texture was no different from a regular wool suit, perhaps even softer. He resisted the urge to try it on right then and there.

"You don't need to pay the final payment," Rosen said with a smile. "Consider this a favor I owe you."

He had really wanted this thing for a long time.

He had seen the bulletproof suit at the Continental Hotel in a movie in his past life, and at the time he thought it was something that was practically a bug in the system.

However, he wasn't part of the assassin circle and didn't want any involvement with mainland hotels, so he basically had no hope of getting his hands on one.

Last year, he mentioned it to Lao Zhou, asking if he had any connections, but he didn't expect that Lao Zhou would take his matter to heart.

Rosen knew perfectly well that once this suit was in his hands, it would be more than just a piece of clothing. He could use his all-powerful platform to scan and analyze the material, figure out its fiber structure, weaving process, and composite layer ratio, and then replace all his clothes with this material.

He was thinking of making all his shirts, T-shirts, and even underwear out of this material, even though bulletproof underwear didn't seem really necessary.

This bulletproof suit has a particularly advanced technological feature: it weighs less than a kilogram more than a regular wool suit. The lining is made of a thin and soft composite carbon fiber, as thin as a regular lining, but capable of stopping rifle bullets at close range.

The most outrageous thing is its shock absorption effect. Ordinary bulletproof vests, although bullets can't penetrate them, the impact can still break your ribs and cause internal bleeding. But this suit is different. The impact is almost completely absorbed by the material. After being hit by a bullet, it doesn't even affect your mobility. You can still run, jump, and fight back.

That's going a bit too far.

Rosen remembered seeing news reports in his past life that there were indeed prototypes of bulletproof suits in reality, but they were far inferior to this. Those real-life versions were already doing well enough to stop a handgun bullet, and even if the bullet didn't penetrate, bone fractures and internal organ ruptures were common occurrences at the point of impact. Even if a person didn't die, they would be lying on the ground for half a day.

And the shock absorption system of this thing is almost in the direction of Iron Man's armor.

With this suit, he could imitate the attire of Arabs when he went to dangerous places. A large scarf wrapped around his head, his face covered except for his eyes, and a long robe covering his body—he'd be completely bulletproof. He'd be safe wherever he went, protected from the sun and bullets—a double benefit.

"Haha, when you can make a finished product in the future, save me a set," Old Zhou said.

"No problem," Rosen answered readily.

After finishing his business, Lao Zhou picked up the sunglasses, put them back on, and prepared to leave.

"By the way," Old Zhou said in a low voice, "you'd better stay away from the east of Uller next month."

Rosen looked up at him.

"The Tuo people," Old Zhou said, "their sights are set over there."

After saying this, Old Zhou patted Rosen on the shoulder and walked away without looking back. He walked very quietly, his footsteps as light as a cat's, and quickly disappeared into the night outside the teahouse.

The Tuo people are the main force of the Iron Army. The leader of that anti-government armed group is called Hasud, a ruthless man who has been planning something big since last year. Rosen doesn't know exactly what the big news is, but anything that Old Zhou specifically mentioned must be something serious.

Rosen sat there without moving and ordered a glass of the shop's recommended drink—Aleurone.

The drink was served, a clear liquid with a few pieces of ice floating in it. Rosen picked it up and took a small sip, and then he regretted it. It was anise-flavored spirit!