Farming Life Starting in Africa

Donnie had clearly gotten used to his teammate's quiet personality and didn't mind. He simply carefully tucked the photo back behind the ballistics notebook.

After a while, Donnie got really bored and started another conversation, "Are you sure this is a peacekeeping mission? It doesn't look like one to me. What would be needed for peacekeeping here? Look, apart from those few shepherds in the distance, there's nothing here!"

His companion was silent for a few seconds, not responding to his question, but instead asking, "What are your plans after you go back this time?"

Donnie swallowed the beef jerky in his mouth, his eyes becoming a little unfocused.

"I'm thinking of leaving the army, going back home, having a bunch of kids with Sarah, raising a few big dogs, and building a garden behind the house with flowers and plants..." He got more and more excited as he talked, and the corners of his mouth turned up.

His partner peeked out from behind the binoculars, glanced at him, and said with a hint of surprise, "Brother, you're retiring from the army. Who's going to be my spotter? We've been partners for so many years—"

"Haha!" Donnie laughed, nudging his companion with his elbow. "You're getting discharged too! You'll live next door to me, and I'll have Sarah introduce you to some hot girls from nursing school. Let me tell you, the girls at nursing school are all so gentle and considerate, much better than the ones you meet in bars."

Donnie didn't say anything, but he could sense that the guy's lips twitched, probably as if he was smiling.

Ten kilometers downstream, on a secluded dirt road, Zhou Weijie had already arrived. He lit a cigarette and leaned against a tree trunk, smoking it idly.

He never delayed fulfilling his promises to his old friends. This time, he was supposed to send a batch of supplies to Hadba, but he didn't have enough on hand, so he temporarily dismantled a batch of weapons from Rosen.

To be honest, those guys didn't have much money. The things they gave him were all spoils scavenged from the battlefield. But Zhou Weijie's trip wasn't purely for money—some friends were far more important than money. If it weren't for that old man from the Semitic tribe, he might be buried somewhere long ago.

The old trees by the river grew crookedly, and the wind blowing in was hot and humid, carrying the smell of mud and withered grass.

Zhou Weijie squinted at the inconspicuous path, lost in thought. Not long after, Rosen's all-terrain vehicle came bumping along from a distance and came to a steady stop next to him.

Pushing open the car door, Rosen jumped out, walked over, and patted the dust off Zhou Weijie's shoulder. "Hey, you're here pretty early."

Zhou Weijie glanced at the truck bed behind him; a gray cloth covered a stack of guns, and several large boxes of ammunition lay beside it. He nodded in satisfaction. "I'm not one to keep people waiting in business."

Rosen looked around; there was nothing but weeds and low shrubs, not even a bicycle in sight. "How are you going to get these goods? You can't do it on foot."

Zhou Weijie laughed, gesturing with his chin towards the river. "There it is, I've hidden a boat. It's faster and safer by water, saving us from inspections along the way."

Just as Rosen was about to say something, his phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and saw it was a text message from the embassy, ​​saying that the situation in Ivia was unstable recently and that he should pay attention to the news and his personal safety.

He was stunned for a moment. Wasn't this still Uller territory? How did we end up in Ivia? He scratched his head, waved his phone at Zhou Weijie, and said helplessly, "The government reminded us again, saying things are tense here, and we should be more careful."

Zhou Weijie didn't even look at it, and flicked the cigarette butt into the river. "Help me load it onto the boat."

He genuinely doesn't care about these things. He's been living abroad since he was a child and doesn't have a Chinese passport. After decades of being a middleman overseas, he's long since risked his life. He wouldn't even bother to cry out if he lost his head one day.

Without a word, Rosen got into the vehicle, started it, and drove it to the riverbank. The two began unloading and loading the cargo onto the boat, doing rough work, but they moved quickly and efficiently. As Rosen unloaded the cargo, he casually asked, "Where are you going this time?"

Zhou Weijie was silent for a moment, but his hands didn't stop moving. "Hadba."

"Is this for that old man in the Nineveh Special Police Unit?"

Zhou Weijie nodded and sighed.

More than ten years ago, he was captured by ISIS in Hadba and almost beheaded, but that old man saved his life by sheer coincidence.

But now the old man is trapped in hatred and can't get out; he'll die on the battlefield sooner or later. That's fate. The old man has spent his whole life in Hadba. He would go mad if he left his hometown, but staying there, he's already been driven insane by that chaotic environment.

Rosen neatly stacked a box of ammunition, wiped his sweat, and said, "There's been fighting again over there recently. It's too dangerous for you to go alone like this."

"I don't need to go into Hadaba; they'll come out to pick up the goods." Zhou Weijie glanced at him. "What's wrong?"

Rosen didn't reply, his eyes fixed on the fish swimming in the river, a restless urge stirring within him. After a long pause, he finally uttered, "I think this place is going to turn into a mess."

Zhou Weijie scoffed, "When has this place ever been peaceful?"

Rosen turned to look at the oil pipeline beside the distant hillside, which lay there like a long, dark snake. "At least when that thing wasn't there, it was pretty stable."

Before long, the two men had loaded all the goods onto the ship.

Just as Zhou Weijie was about to untie the cable, a loud roar suddenly came from the sky, growing louder and louder, making his eardrums vibrate.

They looked up and saw a rather small helicopter flying in from the south. When it got closer, they realized it was a twin-engine multi-purpose attack helicopter with a dark gray fuselage that gave them the creeps.

Both of their expressions changed.

Rosen cursed inwardly, wishing he had a Stinger anti-aircraft missile. But he didn't; those things were too expensive, he couldn't afford one even with his entire fortune.

When you encounter an armed helicopter, ordinary firearms are like tickling it, and even if you take out a rocket launcher, you can't reach it unless it hovers within 200 meters—but it's not stupid.

He did have an anti-aircraft gun in his capsule, but he'd have to calibrate it first. By the time he got it working, the machine guns on the plane would have turned him into mincemeat. Rosen's palms were sweaty, but he had to keep a calm expression on his face.

The two men held their breath, watching the helicopter roar past, its sound fading into the distance. Thankfully, it didn't stop. Once the helicopter had completely disappeared on the horizon, they both breathed a sigh of relief; Rosen even felt his back was soaked with sweat.

"What the hell is this plane from?" Rosen asked, his voice still a little strained.

Zhou Weijie squinted at the direction the helicopter disappeared in, and after a long pause, he said, "I suspect it flew over from the US military base in Remonia to the south." He paused, then added, "Let's get going, things are definitely getting more and more chaotic."