Farming Life Starting in Africa

The shop owner watched Rosen pull the trigger from behind the counter and could tell he was a novice; he'd definitely never handled this kind of gun before.

Then he glanced at Rosen's skin tone and the expensive-looking Mercedes-Benz G-Class parked outside, his lips twitched, and his mind started to race.

A newbie. And a rich newbie at that. You might not see one like that in a month at his shop.

"You like this one?" The shopkeeper's tone carried an air of "good taste," with a smile on his lips, but it was the kind of smile a businessman gives when he sees a fat sheep.

Rosen was fiddling with the safety mechanism on the SPAS-12 when he heard him speak, and only then did he look up. "Not bad."

Rosen put the gun back on the counter. "You have a pretty good selection here. Do you have any recommendations? This is my first time in a gun shop, and I'd like to try out a few."

When the shop owner heard the words "first time here," his eyes lit up even more. He rubbed his hands together, turned around, and waved to the Black clerk behind the counter who was looking down at his phone. "Hey, Roman, pick out some of the good guns from the gun room later."

The Black clerk looked up, the light from his phone screen shifting away from his face to reveal a round face. He glanced at Rosen, following the shop owner's gaze, then lowered his voice and leaned closer, "Boss, big sale?"

The shop owner turned slightly to the side and said in a voice only the two of them could hear, "That Asian guy just now asked me to recommend guns. He wanted to try them out. You know what I mean?"

The shop assistant grinned, revealing two rows of white teeth. "Hehe, I get it, I get it—all the expensive ones?"

"Help them a little, don't make it too obvious, pick a dozen or so first."

The clerk stopped talking and turned to go through the back door with the "Employee Passage" sign. A moment later, the sounds of metal clanging and rollers turning could be heard from inside, as if someone was taking things down from the shelves.

The shop owner walked back to Lawson and adopted a tone that said, "I'm your caring older brother." He continued, "There's a shooting range right behind our shop, an indoor 100-meter target range. You can go in and try it out in a bit."

He reached out and patted the SPAS-12 on the counter next to him. "Try them all. If you like any, you can take a few home. You won't find a lower price in all of Texas."

Rosen understood what he meant; how could he not know what the boss was thinking? But he didn't care.

Anyway, today's goal is to try out as many guns as possible, and spending a few thousand dollars should be enough.

"Okay, then you can make your recommendation."

Among them were several strange guns. Only after listening to the black shop assistant's explanation did Rosen realize what they were.

A foldable SUB-2000 carbine. The gun has a hinge mechanism in the middle; when folded, it's half the length of the original, allowing it to fit into a standard-sized backpack. He tried folding it and unfolding it again; the locking mechanism seemed quite secure.

The salesperson chimed in, "This gun is compatible with Glock pistol magazines! It's very useful and inexpensive. Many long-haul truck drivers like to keep one under their seat."

Rosen was speechless. Do American truck drivers carry these kinds of things around? No matter how good or cheap they are, they can't compare to the AK series, right?

Rosen picked up the pistol called P50 again. It had a futuristic design and the plastic body felt a bit cheap, but the grip was quite comfortable.

He pulled the bolt and glanced at the magazine well. The long, thin magazine held 50 rounds, which was larger than the capacity of a typical submachine gun.

There was also a PLR-16 lying next to it. The gun had an even stranger shape. It was so short that it looked like a large handgun. No, it was a handgun!

The muzzle brake took up nearly a quarter of the total length, and next to it were two drum-shaped magazines, round and plump, with yellow bullets arranged in a spiral shape that could be seen through the transparent windows on the side.

"How many bullets are in here?"

"A drum magazine holds sixty rounds of 5.56mm rifle ammunition. It can hold up to one hundred and fifty rounds, but it gets too heavy if it's filled to one hundred and fifty, and the chance of jamming is high, so we generally don't recommend that customers fill it that full."

Rosen was momentarily speechless. It seemed even the Americans had a fear of insufficient firepower. A pistol could hold hundreds of rounds, and it used rifle ammunition. What were they planning?

Finally, his gaze fell on the thick barrel at the very bottom of the cart. It was an AA-12, its barrel nearly twice the diameter of the surrounding rifles, its receiver square and box-like.