Farming Life Starting in Africa

Along the way, Swagger described the American military camp, which was about 160 kilometers away and took more than two hours to drive there. It was a small military camp nestled in the middle of a basin. It had everything: a firing range, a simulated battlefield, a makeshift runway, and several hangars.

The camp was filled with armored vehicles and several helicopters, lined up in a row. At the far end were the soldiers' rest areas, complete with barracks, dormitories, a mess hall, and a supermarket – quite well-equipped.

However, there was only a small first aid station, no proper base hospital. Anti-missile radar and air defense systems were mounted at the highest point, surrounded by a fence, and cameras were installed everywhere; getting too close would result in being detected.

When they reached a point two kilometers from the base, Rosen parked the car behind a dirt slope, and the two of them covered it with camouflage netting. The netting was dusty and gray, and when it was draped over the car, it looked like a pile of rubble from a distance.

"Alright, this will do." Rosen pulled something slightly larger than the palm of his hand from his backpack.

Swagger leaned closer for a look—good heavens, this drone was tiny, less than ten inches long, with propellers like dragonfly wings. Rosen pressed the switch, and the buzzing sound was barely louder than a mosquito's buzz.

Swagger stared wide-eyed. He had seen U.S. military drones before; they were small aircraft with a buzzing noise as loud as a lawnmower.

Its advantages are long flight time and strong endurance, but in terms of stealth—it's far inferior to this thing. However, it also flies very high, so it's invisible from the ground.

"This drone of yours... is the smallest I've ever seen," Swagger couldn't help but ask. "How long can it fly?"

"At least half an hour, depending on how strong the wind gets," Rosen said as he fiddled with the device. "I brought ten sets of batteries, that should keep you entertained."

He handed over the controller; the image on the screen was clear, and it allowed him to control the camera's direction and zoom in/out. Rosen flew the drone fifty meters high and pointed to the screen: "You know how to use this, right? It's very simple. Just these two joysticks to control the direction. Come on, let me show you."

He gestured a few times, then shoved the controller into Swagger's hand: "Give it a try."

Swagger took the controller and fiddled with it a few times, his fingers moving somewhat clumsily. Before long, he had actually mastered it.

"Alright, fly to two hundred meters high," Rosen directed from the side. "At this height, you can barely see anything from the ground."

In Africa, nobody cares if you're flying illegally.

Swage nodded, raised the drone to 200 meters, then flew over the hillside and directly into the airspace above the US military base.

He zoomed in on the image, searching frame by frame for the commander's figure.

Rosen had told him on the way that they would only search for two days. If they couldn't find the person in two days, then that person had most likely already left the camp.

Rosen himself was quite carefree; he lay down in the bunker, pulled his hat over his face, and soon started snoring.

He didn't think the mission was dangerous at all. Drone reconnaissance wasn't mainstream for the US military yet, and those guys weren't very aware of the risks. In the Middle East, you could count on your fingers the things that could fly over their heads.

There are many surveillance cameras around this military camp, making it difficult to get close. But the problem is—they don't need to get close.

Swagger stared intently at the screen, searching the camp thoroughly. He couldn't see the person inside the building, but he noticed that the man's men were dressed differently from the rest of the military—they were all in civilian clothes—so his search target was a group of people.

One battery, two batteries, three batteries...

Rosen was sleeping so soundly that he was drooling.

While using the fourth battery, Swagger's finger suddenly twitched; he had spotted his target.

That person—with thinning hair on top, wearing a white shirt and a gray vest—was standing outside a temporary tent in the middle of the camp, smoking and chatting casually with the person next to him.

Swagger yanked Rosen's hat off and shook him awake.

"Found it!"

Rosen, still half asleep, glanced at the screen and nodded. "Okay, that's him."

Swagger wanted to hand control of the drone back to Rosen: "What's next?"

Rosen chuckled, waved his hand in refusal, and took a shuttle from his backpack in the car, carefully attaching a bomb to it. The bomb was the size of a pineapple, containing three kilograms of TNT and five hundred three-millimeter-diameter steel balls, and was designed for contact detonation.

If this thing accidentally falls to the ground, they'll become a laughing stock.

Swage remained silent, his eyes fixed on the screen.

"Actually, the hardest part of this is finding that person." Rosen leaned over to Swagger to confirm the target's location before launching the shuttle.

Rosen then put on the VR glasses, and a voice came from behind them: "You can watch the rest."

He was still muttering to himself, "Bro, this is going to sell for five thousand dollars. I'll just give you two thousand for the grenade, remember to pay me back."

This homemade shuttle cost him almost nothing, and its top speed could reach 250 kilometers per hour. Although attaching a bomb affected its speed, the impact was not significant.

The final two hundred meters are all about the sprint. Unless the target is a superhuman, they simply won't have time to react.

This thing exploded right inside your arms. The explosives were enough to turn your target into a pile of minced meat.

Swag was already aware of Rosen's habit of muttering to himself, so he pretended not to hear and glanced up—the shuttle had already disappeared on the horizon. He quickly looked down at the drone controller in his hand.

In the footage, an aircraft about the size of the drone suddenly appeared and hovered next to it. Less than a minute later, the shuttle seemed to lock onto its target and began to swoop down sharply.

Just three seconds.

Before the people around could react, that thing had already pierced into that person's arms.

Then—BOOM!

A burst of fire erupted in the scene.

On the drone controller, the commander, the person next to him, and the tent beside him were all struck as if by an invisible sledgehammer. The two men instantly turned into pieces, the tent was torn apart and thrown more than ten meters away, and a large number of people inside collapsed.

Limbs and pieces of flesh were scattered all over the ground; it was incredibly bloody.

Several seconds passed before the sound of the explosion reached Swag and his group.

Rosen took off his VR glasses, peeked at the controller in Swage's hand, and gave a look of disgust.

I've never seen the effects of the bombs he made on people before.

This time, I've truly witnessed it firsthand.

That's too brutal.

Swage stared at the screen, feeling a bit like he was questioning the meaning of life.

With such a useful weapon, his sniper rifle can definitely be retired. This kind of ferocious suicide drone, as long as the target is worth the seven thousand dollars, can enjoy the experience of "art is explosion".

Rosen patted the dazed Swagger on the shoulder and said with a chuckle, "Alright, revenge's done. Shouldn't we be going? If we don't leave soon, the search team will be here."

Swagger snapped out of his daze and silently began packing his things.

In the distance, the camp was in complete chaos, with sirens blaring and tearing through the sky above the entire basin.

Rosen started the all-terrain vehicle, threw the pile of equipment onto the back seat, and stepped on the gas, kicking up a cloud of dust.