Farming Life Starting in Africa

"Today, the Sonora Cartel's headquarters was raided by an elite team suspected to be composed of US troops. The entire top leadership of the cartel was wiped out. All the core leaders, including Fausto Alarcon, were either killed on the spot or captured alive. The Sonora Cartel, which had existed for many years, has been completely destroyed and has become history."

"During their escape, the group used anti-aircraft missiles to shoot down a Mexican military MD-530 Defender helicopter. They eventually escaped through a tunnel on the US-Mexico border, while the pursuing drug traffickers found a large number of US police forces already waiting for them on the perimeter when they reached the US."

These words were incredibly revealing. Matt's pupils constricted, he nearly dropped his coffee cup, and his jaw almost fell to the floor. His voice was filled with disbelief: "What?! Sonora Corporation... is gone?!"

"Now, answer my question." The church's tone remained cold and forceful. "Did you conduct any operations in Nogalis today?"

Matt Graves closed his eyes, remained silent for several seconds, and then confessed honestly: "One of my outreach agents, Alejandro, intercepted Alarcón Diaz in Nogales today, as he had just returned to Mexico. He plans to use Diaz as leverage to infiltrate Fausto Alarcón's stronghold. Apart from that, no other operations have been arranged."

After hearing Matt's explanation, the church on the other end of the phone was speechless; he was truly dumbfounded by this guy's outrageous plan.

A massive drug trafficking syndicate entrenched on the border, with its heavily fortified outposts and ample manpower, was sent by the CIA, responsible for the illicit profits along the border, to send a lone hero to raid it all by himself? This is utterly absurd, practically suicide.

Church thought to himself that this kind of ridiculous mission, which was practically suicide, would probably only be accepted by a simple-minded, penniless guy like Barney who would take on anything for money.

"Mr. Graves, I hope what you're saying is true. If it is, the difficulty in handling this matter is still within a manageable range."

Matt had just breathed a sigh of relief, the huge weight lifted from his heart, thinking the matter was over, when the other party's voice came again, chilling him to the bone: "The higher-ups have decided that you are in charge of handling this matter. Find the raiding team and uncover the whole truth."

These words were like ice water poured over Matt's head. He felt a chill run through him instantly, as if he had fallen into an ice cave, and a layer of cold sweat instantly seeped out from his back.

He was all too aware of the stakes involved. Taking down a Mexican drug cartel was no big deal for the CIA, which operated in the gray area for years; as long as the people they supported were obedient, that was enough.

What's truly devastating is the Mexican military helicopter that was shot down. It's one of Mexico's few elite armed aircraft, and for the Mexican military, this is a huge loss. The other side will definitely not let it go.

With the drug dealers' own testimony confirming that US police were involved in the cross-border operation, the blame will most likely fall squarely on the CIA.

To put it bluntly, this is a hot potato, a mess that was dumped on him by his superiors to take the blame for.

He can only be completely cleared of suspicion if he can successfully capture that mysterious raiding team.

The call was abruptly ended, leaving only a cold busy tone on the receiver.

Matt didn't dare delay. He frantically flipped through his contacts and immediately dialed Alejandro's number, but all he heard was a cold system message—the other party's phone was switched off.

At that moment, a strong sense of foreboding gripped his heart, and the situation was completely out of control.

In the small town of Sammerton on the US-Mexico border, it was well past lunchtime. The town's only old-fashioned restaurant was deserted, with few customers. Only the old ceiling fan, slowly turning, circled and hummed, dissipating the heat in the air.

Two old men sat at the bar, the only customers in the shop. They had overslept and missed the normal mealtime, and were now lounging on high stools, sipping their ice-cold beers, leisurely waiting for their belated lunch, not in a hurry at all.

Sam, an elderly Black man, was wearing a faded fisherman's hat and leaning against the bar, swinging his legs. Harry, an elderly white man, was squinting at the sun outside the shop, looking serene and carefree.

Just as the atmosphere in the shop was so lazy that it was almost drowsy, the wooden door of the restaurant was gently pushed open, and a cool breeze blew in.

A group of people with Asian faces and an elderly white man walked in calmly, looking like a small, independent tour group. They were low-key and quiet.

Needless to say, this was Guan Yuming, Fu Longsheng, Lone Wolf, and their group.

Awei, Xin, and Alejandro were guarding the two prisoners on a shady slope outside the town, waiting for them to bring back food.

Restaurant owner Ive was leaning against the counter, idly daydreaming, when he saw so many people suddenly come in. His eyes lit up instantly; this was definitely a huge business opportunity.

He immediately straightened up, strode to the bar, and greeted them with a warm smile, "Ladies and gentlemen, what would you like to eat?"

Guan Yuming smiled and glanced around the restaurant. It was fairly clean and tidy, with simple and unpretentious furnishings, typical of a small restaurant in a border town.

His gaze swept across the room, finding only the two elderly men leisurely sipping beer at the bar; there were no other customers. Guan Yuming casually asked, "Boss, do you have a menu?"

There was only one female chef in the kitchen, busy processing the remaining fresh ingredients. There were very few ingredients on the cutting board, indicating that the restaurant did not have much stock.

Ive casually pushed a simple paper menu over, explaining helplessly, "We do have a menu, but I'm really sorry, it's well past lunchtime now, and the kitchen has limited ingredients, so there aren't many options left."

There's nothing we can do about it. Sammerton is a remote border town with very few people. On weekdays, there are hardly any customers. The people who come to eat are mostly elderly people in the town who don't know how to cook or don't want to.

Ive dared not stockpile too much food, because if he stockpiled too much and couldn't sell it all, it would just go to waste and be a losing proposition.

Guan Yuming glanced down at the menu, which only had a few white fast food options and nothing particularly new or interesting. He didn't care and waved his hand with a smile, "It's okay, it's okay, just order a little of everything, enough to fill us up."

Ive smiled and nodded in agreement. He turned around and quickly moved to the food preparation area. When he looked down at the remaining ingredients in the kitchen, he felt a little embarrassed.

He quietly approached the waitress Christy and whispered, "Christy, could you take stock of the ingredients we have left? At most, how many people can we make a meal with?"

Christy looked down and examined the ingredients in the refrigerator and on the cutting board. After a rough calculation, she looked up and replied helplessly, "Boss, if we deduct the food reserved for Sam and Harry, the remaining ingredients are only enough for four people at most. It's definitely not enough for this large group."