Farming Life Starting in Africa

Rosen never had high hopes for the government troops' combat effectiveness. They were mostly untrained people; they were just given a gun, a camouflage uniform, and called soldiers. Getting wiped out in one fell swoop was the norm for them. He thought for a moment and asked, "Was it the Iron Army?"

"Who else could it be? It's those maggots from the Iron Army!" Fahd's voice rose eight octaves in an instant, blazing with rage. "But this time they brought the Red Turban Army with them, their firepower is fierce, they caught us completely off guard. Those cuckolded bastards, just like Colonel Gaddafi, all they do is wreak havoc on this country!"

Fahd got more and more excited as he talked, and profanities poured out of his mouth like a tap turned on.

Fahd has suffered a major setback this time; as the supreme commander, he has lost a great deal of face. However, he has powerful connections, so it's unlikely his foundation will be shaken; at most, he'll just be unlucky for a while.

While listening to the phone call, Rosen tightened his shoelaces, skipped breakfast, grabbed his car keys, and headed out.

"Honey badger, do you have anything that could save your life? Sell me some."

Rosen chuckled: "How about my tank? I guarantee it'll knock their teeth out."

"Too expensive. Unless you can sell it to me for 300,000."

"Three hundred thousand US dollars won't do." Rosen decisively refused. That's a tank! He had optimized the armor and power of this thing, and it could definitely crush a steel army's teeth.

But in this poor place, who else could he sell it to? Was he supposed to go through the trouble of reselling it to the north to those wealthy Ivia military government? That would be too conspicuous; even more people were eyeing that area, and he didn't want to stand out.

Moreover, this tank takes up quite a bit of space. Although it can fit into the capsule space, what can he do with it? If he goes to America, is he going to drive a tank to play White House Down?

Rosen considered the profits Fahd had made in the Uller over the years, which amounted to at least seven or eight hundred thousand US dollars, and decided to offer a price that Fahd might be willing to accept.

"Fahd, my brother, when I leave this world, if you can come up with a million dollars in cash, I'll sell you this tank at a rock-bottom price."

"Leave? Where are you going?" Fahad's voice rose considerably. "My God, Honey Badger, you're leaving Ullr?"

"I'm going to visit the US, do you want a tank?"

"I want it!" Fahad shouted urgently, his eagerness palpable even through the phone. "You're my best brother!"

Rosen immediately regretted underestimating the guy's wealth when he heard him agree so readily. It seemed he could probably scramble to sell him something later.

"Alright," Rosen chuckled, "find out some news about the Iron Army for me. Those guys messed with me, I'm going to turn their house upside down."

Fahd had no doubt about the weight of Rosen's words. Rosen wasn't able to keep this junkyard running in Ullr by simply being friendly and making money—anyone who dared to come along was basically fed to the hyenas.

"Hehehe, this is the best news I've heard all year!" Fahd's voice was filled with a vicious, gleeful glint. "I'd love to see Hassud fall from grace. Wait for my news, I'll get back to you in the next couple of days. I heard they've captured a martyr, I'll take some men to question him in a bit."

"Okay, I'll wait for your reply."

After hanging up the phone, Rosen had already driven to the entrance of the garbage station. The two cars were still overturned on the side of the road, and two corpses, emitting a strong stench, were rotting, with flies buzzing around them.

"Patrick! I'm back! Where are you?"

"Boss, over here!"

Rosen looked up and saw that the guy was still sitting on the anti-aircraft gun on the second-floor roof. The dark figure had its legs dangling down and swinging. If he didn't say anything, he would easily be overlooked.

"Come down, have you eaten anything?"

Patrick grabbed the edge of the roof, swung, and jumped down. When he landed, his legs were probably numb, his ankles buckled, and he fell hard on his bottom.

He quickly got up, dusted himself off, and grinned, "I've already eaten, boss. After you left yesterday, a few more people came, saying they were from the Overseas Chinese Association, but I didn't let them in."

Rosen looked him up and down. The kid didn't look too energetic, but you couldn't tell if he had dark circles under his eyes from his dark face. Anyway, he looked listless.

"Go find something to eat first, then go take a nap."

"I've already eaten, boss, I'm not sleepy yet." Patrick pointed to a plastic bag on the ground, which was a bag of instant noodles.

Rosen nodded, quite satisfied—this kid was getting better and better. "Alright, first clean up those two cars outside, and take care of the people. They stank, you could smell it from way out. Don't forget the ones in the backyard either."

Patrick's face fell immediately, and he replied with a gloomy expression, "Okay, boss."

Rosen grinned mischievously and patted him on the shoulder: "Once this mess is over, your debt will be forgiven. If you want to marry Fatima's sister, you can always borrow from me again; we can discuss the interest."

Patrick's eyes lit up immediately, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

Fatima's sister is younger and prettier, with dimples when she smiles. But he'll have to go back and discuss it with his father-in-law—if that old man tries to make another exorbitant demand, his family's resources won't be enough to cover it.

When Miao Feng woke up, his head was buzzing non-stop. The back of his head was also throbbing in waves. He instinctively tried to raise his hand to touch it, only to find that his wrists were tied up.

He blinked hard, and his vision gradually cleared.

The walls were all made of mud, damp and musty, and a musty smell filled the air. Above him was a roof made of planks, through which a few slivers of light pierced the air, casting pale lines on the ground. It was a cellar, less than 10 square meters in size, and his hands were tied to a pillar as thick as his thigh.

"Damn it..." Miao Feng closed his eyes again. On his way to get his modified pickup truck repaired, he found a roadblock and got out to move it. Suddenly, two men with guns jumped out from the roadside and knocked him unconscious.

"Damn it, what bad luck." Miao Feng struggled twice, but the pillar didn't budge, and the rope tightened even more. "I should have called Rosen along."

He looked around. He was the only one in the cellar. Against the wall sat a chipped earthenware bowl, its bottom covered in a layer of dust, looking like it hadn't been used in a long time.

Just as I was figuring out how to escape, there was a sudden noise above my head. The wooden lid above my head was lifted off the ground.