Farming Life Starting in Africa

That wooden house offered a safe haven, a place to hide and recover, and allowed for constant monitoring of Sarah's family's activities, making it quite secure.

Having arranged everything, Rosen, sporting Azu's face, drove off alone towards the bustling yet turbulent Washington, D.C. He was going to personally meet with that high-ranking senator to have a serious talk, to discuss terms and the future.

The sea breeze, carrying a strong, salty, and damp smell, howled and raged across the Chesapeake Bay Bridge.

This super bridge, spanning the entire bay, is currently trapped in the curse of evening rush hour congestion. The flow of traffic is so tight that it is impossible to move. Vehicles of all sizes are crawling along at a snail's pace, barely moving a few meters in half a day, leaving drivers who have missed dinner in a state of anxious agitation.

Rosen was stuck in the middle of traffic in his obviously expensive Dodge pickup truck.

A slow-moving heavy truck was following directly behind his car. The road ahead was packed with cars, so there was no chance to overtake. He could only patiently inch forward with the flow of traffic.

Just as Rosen listlessly looked up at the traffic ahead and saw the scene clearly, his heart sank and a bad premonition arose.

In the center of the road, a large, sturdy armored escort vehicle firmly occupies the main road, exuding an aura of overwhelming power.

Several black Ford Expedition SUVs surrounded the vehicle, all of which were police cars upgraded with anti-riot measures. Their rugged bodies exuded a menacing aura, clearly indicating top-tier, high-risk security escort configuration.

Rosen scratched his head. In American movies, these fully armed, large-scale convoys were always a walking source of trouble. Nine out of ten times they appeared, something bad happened; the remaining one was just the calm before the storm. Getting involved with them was never a good thing.

Unfortunately, I was right in the middle of the bridge, with traffic completely blocked in front and behind me. Forget about changing lanes or overtaking, even the emergency lane was packed. The Americans are so inconsiderate.

Unfortunately, even though he was furious, Rosen had no choice but to stay put.

Bored out of his mind, Rosen turned on the car radio, letting the slightly noisy American radio broadcasts fill the entire car to pass the time during the tedious traffic jam.

The anchor's tone was mechanical and flat. He began by reporting an international news story: Recently, a clandestine U.S. armed team illegally crossed the border into Mexico, raided the private estate of a local tycoon, and forcibly kidnapped him. Mexican officials have repeatedly protested and demanded an explanation, but U.S. officials have remained silent throughout, refusing to respond, explain, or hold anyone accountable, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the incident.

Once the public outcry subsides, the US authorities will likely find a scapegoat for Mexico, and that'll be the end of it.

Following this was a notice of withdrawal of the arrest warrant: Dominic Toretto, a notorious highway criminal who led a team to intercept and rob high-value freight trucks on highways for many years, with huge sums of money involved and rampant crimes, has now been arrested by the police and will soon face judicial trial.

As Rosen listened to the news, he couldn't help but roll his eyes and mentally rant.

A fair trial? That's pure childish nonsense.

The American legal system has always been a game for the wealthy. Without a top-tier legal team at exorbitant prices to cover it up, a notorious criminal like Tang would basically face a life sentence in jail.

Official agencies like the FBI and CIA have little credibility to begin with. Given the tense situation at the US-Mexico border, the authorities are eager to clear themselves of all foreign-related scandals and messes; how could they possibly be so merciful as to grant Toretto a reduced sentence?

As for the agreement with Brian? What power does Brian, a newcomer, have to change the minds of those officials?

Besides, an agreement is not a contract, but it is a contract. If they want to renege on it, it's just a matter of saying one word.

In this country, if you really touch the interests of those at the top, they'll change the constitution for you.

Just as Rosen was imagining all sorts of audacious maneuvers by the US and killing time in the traffic jam, a sharp, piercing whistle suddenly burst from the sky, piercing through all the noise on the bridge.

The sound came so fast and suddenly that it gave no one time to react or anticipate it.

The next second, a deafening explosion ripped open behind the rear of his car!

A violent shockwave instantly swept across the entire bridge surface, its force ridiculously powerful, lifting the rear wheels of Rosen's pickup truck several centimeters off the ground. The vehicle violently lurched and bounced, the chassis suspension system emitted a dull groan, and the entire car trembled violently.

Before the vehicle had even fully landed and stabilized, Rosen's pupils contracted sharply as he clearly saw several bright trails of flame streaking across the sky. Several missiles precisely locked onto the Ford Expedition SUV responsible for escorting them and swooped down straight down!

Boom boom boom—!

A series of explosions sent flames shooting into the sky, and scorching fireballs instantly engulfed the entire traffic area.

The sturdy, explosion-proof SUV was instantly overturned and blown apart, with body fragments and glass shards flying everywhere.

The sturdy bridge surface was blasted into several jagged craters, and the thick steel plates were twisted, deformed, and in a state of disrepair.

The entire cross-sea bridge emitted a dull tremor and hum, like a giant beast on the verge of collapse howling in pain. Several load-bearing steel cables could not withstand the force and snapped in response, the ear-piercing sound of metal tearing was enough to make one's scalp tingle.

Rosen was completely numb.

Only one thought remained in his mind: This wasn't an ordinary ambush; this was clearly a real-life "Final Destination" movie shoot! They were just driving along a bridge, why were they targeting him so precisely? The scale of the operation was simply outrageous.

Just as Rosen was about to peek out to check on the chaotic situation outside, the deep, heavy roar of a helicopter engine came from under the bridge again, growing louder as it approached.

A classic Bell UH-1 attack helicopter took advantage of the blind spot under the bridge to fly low and skim right close to the bridge surface.

Two fully armed gunmen crouched on either side of the cabin door, their dark gun barrels pointed at the congested, innocent traffic, and opened fire indiscriminately without warning.

A dense hail of bullets rained down, slamming heavily against various vehicle bodies, guardrails, and bridge surfaces with a series of sharp cracking sounds.

Rosen was utterly speechless, internally raging: Has the security situation in the US really deteriorated to this extent? They can just blow up any major cross-sea bridge, indiscriminately shooting civilians in broad daylight—the danger level is even more outrageous than war-torn Africa! Today's 9/11 would probably be destroyed.

A barrage of bullets rained down on Rosen's pickup truck, but luckily he was prepared and had installed top-of-the-line bulletproof panels throughout the vehicle, maximizing its protection.

The bullets could not penetrate the vehicle body, leaving only a dense array of shallow bullet marks on the surface, producing a series of crisp, ringing sounds.

Now, Rosen, who had just been bombed, was completely enraged.