Farming Life Starting in Africa

Who would have thought that they would run into such an incredibly tough opponent today? They've completely lost.

"Sir, isn't this going too far?" someone said in a trembling voice, trying to explain. "We only made a mistake because of momentary greed. The scratches on your car aren't that big, the damage isn't that serious at all..."

"How much I've lost is none of your business to judge!"

Rosen's eyes turned cold. Too lazy to waste words with them, he immediately began to apply pressure within a limited time: "I'll give you thirty seconds. Do it yourselves and leave some bloody interest, or I'll personally take action and give you a bullet to the head, so that my wounded heart can have some solace."

The group froze, their hair standing on end in fear, and they didn't dare to breathe.

The icy, metallic touch traveled from his fingertips throughout his body, causing him to tremble uncontrollably.

He is the descendant of a hotel tailor, with top-notch skills and a meticulous mind. Before coming to Brazil, he was very docile and would never dare to kill a chicken, let alone hurt someone.

However, after arriving here, thanks to Hidetoshi Tojo's protection, he also benefited greatly and secretly did many things that were against his conscience and devoid of humanity.

He never expected that karma would turn out this way and that retribution would come back to haunt him.

A dozen seconds passed in the blink of an eye, and Rosen gave him no chance to hesitate or pause.

His countdown sounded coldly, not loud, but like a death knell striking their ears: "5, 4, 3..."

As the countdown to death drew ever closer, Suzuki Mori's heart pounded and his body went cold.

He glanced up at the dark muzzle of Rosen's gun, then met the other's ambiguous smile, and instantly broke down completely.

Without daring to think any further, he gritted his teeth, slammed his left hand hard on the ground, straightened his little finger, raised the tactical knife in his hand, closed his eyes abruptly, steeled his heart, and plunged it in hard!

Unfortunately, when people are under extreme tension and fear, their movements can become uncontrollable and distorted.

The force of the blow was both fierce and off-target. Not only did it cleanly sever the entire little finger, but the blade's momentum continued, cleaving deep into the joint of the ring finger and severing most of it, leaving only a small piece of skin and flesh hanging precariously from the palm.

Clang.

The blade fell to the ground.

Suzuki Mori slowly opened his eyes, staring blankly at his bloodied and mangled left hand.

Warm blood gushed out wildly from the cut, instantly staining his palm red and soaking the sand beneath him.

In an instant, his hands seemed to lose all feeling, and his brain entered a brief state of numbness and shock.

There was no immediate, intense pain, only a strange, burning, throbbing sensation, as if being forcibly torn apart.

All the tactile and pressure sensations in my palms and fingertips vanished into thin air, leaving only the burning sensation of the wound.

This strange numbness lasted only a few seconds.

The next second, a wave of excruciating pain suddenly erupted.

A throbbing, tearing pain was rooted deep in his metacarpal bones, spreading throughout his body along blood vessels and nerves, throbbing wildly with each heartbeat, making his scalp tingle and his whole body spasm.

A strong feeling of dizziness and nausea rushed to my head, and my back was soaked with cold sweat.

Suzuki Mori could no longer hold on. He threw down the dagger, clutched his mangled left hand, and knelt on the ground, howling and rolling around in agony. His piercing screams sent chills down one's spine.

This horrific scene completely terrified the three people standing nearby who hadn't yet made a move.

The three men were trembling uncontrollably, their faces were ashen, their legs were weak, and they could barely kneel. Their fear had reached its peak.

Just as only Suzuki Mori's wailing could be heard, a light, airy voice slowly rose, hovering in their ears like a ghost, sending chills down their spines.

"Next."

As the sun gradually sank below the horizon, Hidetoshi Tojo stood frozen in place, staring at the gun barrel pointed at his forehead.

The dark gun hole was like a silent, deadly mouth pointed at the top of his head.

He shuddered violently, his legs went weak, and all his previous glimmer of hope shattered completely. All thoughts of face and pride vanished into thin air.

"I'll pay! I'm willing to pay a million US dollars! Please, have mercy on me and let me go!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he buried his head and began kowtowing frantically.

His forehead slammed solidly onto the rough gravel ground, each slam harder than the last.

After only a few bumps, the rough stones chafed his forehead, and fine blood slowly seeped out, mixing with the dust and smearing his face, making him look disheveled and miserable.

Looking at his flustered and cowardly appearance, Rosen's lips curled into a roguish and cold smile. "No need."

"I've suddenly changed my mind. To be honest, seeing all of you looking so terrified and distressed is much more interesting than getting a million dollars."

The two remaining kneeling Japanese men froze, instinctively glancing at Suzuki Mori, who was writhing on the ground beside them in excruciating pain. They then looked up at Rosen's cold, unfeeling smile and swallowed hard, the fear in their hearts completely overwhelming them.

Hidetoshi Tojo's teeth chattered as he frantically searched his mind for his last trump card.

Money was useless, and he didn't even want a bulletproof suit. It seemed that ordinary bargaining chips couldn't sway this person.

Gritting his teeth and suppressing the pain in his heart, he hurriedly said, "I have a treasure! I have a bronze blood oath badge! It's a keepsake from my uncle!"

"With this, Koji Shimazu, the manager of the Osaka Continental Hotel, must unconditionally do you a very costly favor!"

This is the best card he can play right now!

As he spoke, he carefully took out a metal pocket watch-shaped badge from his inner pocket.

Hidetoshi Tojo clenched his fists tightly, his face contorted with heartache as he held the weapon out to him, trembling as he offered it to Rosen, fearing that Rosen might suddenly open fire if he was displeased.

However, fearing that Rosen might not understand the value of this item, he hurriedly explained, "Sir, you must know Shimazu Koji! Back then, he was able to secure his position as manager of the Osaka Continental Hotel and maintain control over the entire underground assassin community, all thanks to my uncle's help!"

"This blood oath is the promise he made back then! As long as you hold onto it, no matter what trouble you encounter in Japan in the future, Shimazu Koji must fulfill his promise and take action to resolve everything for you!"

Rosen took the badge; it felt heavy in his hand, with a distinctly metallic texture.

The badge is engraved with exquisite patterns on the outside, with a skull in the center, entwined with intertwined grapevines, and topped with a crown pattern, which is very much like the style favored by old European rich people.