Farming Life Starting in Africa

"Think it over carefully," Fausto said, offering his terms. "You'll be fully responsible for operating the factory. You only need to invest fifty million US dollars to acquire a 30% stake. This deal is a sure thing for you."

After hearing these outrageous conditions, Guan Yuming sighed inwardly in despair. There's no such thing as a free lunch; they were clearly trying to drag him into the scheme, make him bear the risks, and pave the way for him.

He didn't refuse on the spot, but responded cautiously, "Fosto, I need to think about this carefully. I only have one request now: let me see my daughter first."

Just then, a burly bodyguard with a fierce look on his face strode in, leaned close to Foster's ear, and quickly reported something in a low voice.

Fausto's relaxed expression instantly changed, all the composure in his eyes vanishing, replaced by a look of seriousness. He pondered in silence for a while before looking back at Guan Yuming and saying, "Jackie, I'll give you a day to consider it."

Before Guan Yuming could reply, he immediately turned to the waiter beside him and instructed, "Take my guest upstairs and let him meet his daughter."

Guan Yuming was filled with curiosity, unsure of what had happened in such a short time, but he didn't ask further. His daughter's safety was the top priority; everything else could wait.

He followed the waiter along the deep, dark corridors of the castle. The corridors were adorned with magnificent oil paintings, yet they exuded a sense of oppressive gloom.

As he walked, he subtly made a gesture with his finger, indicating "everything is going smoothly and proceeding as planned." The drone hovering high in the sky precisely captured this movement and transmitted the signal back to the rear.

Once Guan Yuming's figure had completely disappeared at the end of the corridor, Fausto took out his phone and quickly dialed an overseas number.

The moment the call connected, Fausto's voice was filled with suppressed anger: "Aracon, why did you suddenly return to Mexico?"

The man on the other end of the phone asked in a deep voice, "Has something happened to my brother, Lei?"

Fausto fell into a brief silence. Ray Diaz had been arrested and taken to the United States for some time. The Diaz brothers were the right-hand men of the Sonora Corporation, with a clear division of labor: Ray, the younger brother, was in charge of freight within Mexico, while Aracon, the older brother, was based in the United States, controlling the sales terminals. They were indispensable to each other.

It's obvious that someone on the grounds couldn't keep a secret and secretly passed on the news of Ray Diaz's arrest in Juarez to Aracon.

"Aracon, I regret what happened to Ray," Fausto said gravely, "but you absolutely cannot return to Mexico now. If you land and come back, the entire Sonora Group will be exposed to danger."

Those at the top in this line of work are always scattered in different places, each with their own duties, and never gather together. What they fear most is being wiped out in one fell swoop.

But Aracon wouldn't listen, his tone growing colder and harsher: "Last night I received a warning from the Chee Kung Tong. If you touch their people again, if you make any more moves, all our territory and all our businesses in the United States will be wiped out. You must release Jackie's daughter immediately."

"Jackie is already with me," Fausto said calmly. "Once I've spoken with him, I'll send them back."

After a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, Arakon said in a deep voice, "I'll talk to him in person later. I'll try to calm him down and prevent things from getting out of control."

"Then you must return to the United States immediately after you finish your talks. Don't stay a moment longer; it's too dangerous," Fausto repeatedly warned.

Aracon was clearly impatient and replied hastily, "I know. I kept my return a secret this time. No one else knows except my personal driver."

At this moment, on a desolate highway outside Nogalis, a black Mercedes is speeding smoothly. Outside the window, yellow sand stretches as far as the eye can see, and the roadside is filled with barren desert and sparse, withered trees, so desolate that there is no sign of human habitation.

Inside the car, Aracon leaned back in his seat, his brows furrowed, silently planning his next words.

He had actually wanted to recruit Jackie for a long time. This Chinese man was really good at business, with a sharp eye and a wide range of connections.

In a short period of time, Jackie secured supply rights for small and medium-sized supermarkets in multiple states, including Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana, establishing a vast offline distribution network.

Their business is extremely profitable, and if they maintain it steadily for a few years, its scale might not be inferior to Sonora's core gray market business. After all, Chinese goods offer excellent value for money, have a wide audience, and represent a huge market potential.

Especially in recent years, with the hollowing out of the U.S. mainland, their demand for imports has increased significantly.

Most ordinary people can avoid drug use, but can they avoid buying daily necessities?

Just as his thoughts were racing, a piercing siren suddenly sounded from behind the car, its sharp blast breaking the deathly silence of the suburbs.

A Mexican police car followed closely behind, tailgating the rear of the vehicle.

Arakon's brows furrowed instantly, a bad premonition rising in his heart.

The burly driver in the front seat frowned, and his right hand instinctively reached for the glove box on the passenger side, where a loaded pistol was hidden, ready to be fired at any moment.

Mexico's rules are similar to those in the United States. Once a police car starts following you with its lights on and siren on, the driver must pull over for inspection. Trying to force your way through will only result in a more serious offense.

"Pull over, go check the situation," Aracon ordered in a deep voice. Although he felt uneasy, the police in Nogalis were always people who received bribes and monthly salaries, so in theory no one would dare to cause him trouble.

The Mercedes slowly pulled over to a stop, and the driver got out. A moment later, the loudspeaker of a police car behind them blared, "Everyone in the vehicle, get out immediately!"

The driver quickly scanned the surroundings. The entire road was deserted and desolate, with no passing vehicles or any people lying in ambush.

He glanced at Aracon in the car and nodded slightly, indicating that it was safe for the time being.

Arakon then opened the car door and got out.

The loudspeaker boomed again, carrying an unquestionable command: "Lift up your shirts and discard all weapons!"

The driver looked up at the police car, his face full of doubt. The Mexican police would definitely recognize their license plates.

Arakon had completely lost his patience and said coldly, "Do you know who I am? How dare you stop my car?"

"Stop talking nonsense and do as I say right now, or I'll just shoot!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the police car window slowly rolled down, revealing an HK MP5A3 submachine gun equipped with an external silencer and a red dot sight, its dark muzzle pointing directly at the two men.

The moment they saw the gun, Arakon and the driver felt a chill run through them, and their hearts sank.

They knew all too well that the standard issue firearms for the local police in Mexico were not these high-end models; these were definitely not regular police officers!