Farming Life Starting in Africa

Leng Feng paused, his expression becoming quite subtle. "You...planted landmines near your own home?"

"Yes, there used to be a lot of thieves, so I buried more than a hundred landmines next to it. Several unlucky guys tried to climb over the wall and accidentally stepped on them. Since then, no one has bothered with my place."

After he finished speaking, he glanced at the baggy pants Leng Feng was wearing, the cuffs bunched up on his shoes, making him look unkempt. "Alright, tell me your height, I'll go upstairs and get you some clothes that fit." With that, he turned and went inside.

Leng Feng looked down at his clothes and quickly followed Rosen into the house. As soon as he entered, he took off his clothes and told Rosen his physical data.

Aside from being a bit stuffy and prone to getting smelly, these clothes are practically perfect. They'd be a soldier's dream on the battlefield.

Rosen used the all-purpose platform to temporarily alter a set of clothes for Leng Feng, and even added a face mask and arm sleeves, maximizing his defense.

Leng Feng tried it on as soon as he got it, and happily twirled around the living room a couple of times, stretching his arms and legs. It didn't affect his movements at all. Back in the hospital, it was precisely because this bulletproof vest didn't fit properly that he couldn't move freely.

Moreover, he was still a little unaccustomed to others pointing guns at him, and his first thought was to dodge, which allowed the white man to get close and lose the initiative.

A short while later, Patrick unloaded the Gatling gun from the car and carried it inside, where Rosen took it and happily went upstairs.

He had to figure out how to make a simple tripod for the gun, since it wasn't meant for handheld use. It wasn't that it was too heavy to lift, but rather that once the rate of fire started, the recoil became extremely absurd.

Those characters in movies who can wield a Gatling gun and fire are basically Terminator-like beings like the T-800; ordinary people shouldn't even dream of it.

The gunfire from the military camp stopped sometime later. Rosen habitually called Fahd, but no one answered after it rang for a long time.

He didn't care; Fahd was probably cleaning up the battlefield. Now that they outnumbered him considerably, it wouldn't be easy for the Red Turban Army to take this place.

Suddenly, an explosion came from outside the courtyard wall, a muffled thud that shook the ground. The three people inside the house simultaneously stopped what they were doing, their ears perked up.

Rosen opened the second-floor window and peered out—only some dust was rising from the north side of the wall; nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. Apparently, some unlucky fellow had other ideas, wanting to see what lay inside the wall, which led him to step on a landmine.

Just as he was about to go downstairs to check, he suddenly felt as if someone had stabbed him hard in the chest with a large iron rod. A tremendous force threw him backward, and he tumbled back into the house. Immediately afterward, the sound of a gunshot reached his ears—bang, the sound particularly crisp in the quiet environment.

Ignoring the dull pain in his chest, Rosen frantically crawled behind the thickest wall in the room, shouting hoarsely, "Sniper!"

Leng Feng's voice came from downstairs, short and urgent: "How are you?"

Rosen hid behind the wall, took a couple of breaths, and lifted his shirt to peek out—on the firm muscle of his chest, a white mark the size of a thumb was slowly turning red, as if someone had pinched him. "Damn...that hurts like hell," he grimaced, "I'm fine, the bullet didn't penetrate my armor."

He took out a face mask, arm sleeves, and a hat from the capsule and put them on one by one until he was completely covered up, leaving only his eyes showing. With this sense of security, he recalled the direction he had faced when he was shot and fell, and roughly determined the sniper's location—11 o'clock in the direction of the sniper, north-northwest.

He ran downstairs quickly. Leng Feng had already pulled up a face mask, wrapping himself up tightly, and was hiding behind the load-bearing wall, peeking out towards the direction of the courtyard gate.

"The sniper is at eleven o'clock," Rosen's voice came through the mask. "Don't stay inside, you'll be easy targets. Get in my pickup truck, rush out, find them, and take them out."

Leng Feng was about to say something when he suddenly saw a figure moving outside the courtyard, crouching low and sneaking towards the inner yard. He looked away and asked in a low voice, "Are you driving or should I drive?"

"You drive, I'll take care of the shooting." Rosen paused for a moment, then added, "Don't worry, the pickup truck is bulletproof too. Just dodge the rockets."

After he finished speaking, he glanced at Patrick, who was standing in the corner with a shotgun in his hand, looking very calm and not afraid at all.

"Patrick, go into the armory and come out when it's over." The armory was the sturdiest room in Rosen's place, and it had been reinforced with great effort. Even conventional explosives would have a hard time blowing that door open.

Patrick opened his mouth as if to say something, but Rosen waved his hand to interrupt him. "Forget it, you still have family. I don't want Khalid to know that his son-in-law died here." These words made Patrick open his mouth again and then close it, obediently carrying his gun towards the armory.

Rosen looked at Leng Feng, who nodded. The two exchanged a glance but said nothing more. Before the people outside could react, they slung their rifle slings over their backs and dashed out of the house.

Just as they approached the pickup truck, a series of clanging sounds rang out, bullets striking the vehicle and sending sparks flying like fireworks. Leng Feng flung open the door, jumped into the driver's seat in two strides, turned the key, and the diesel engine roared to life.

Rosen sprinted and flipped onto the truck bed. Just as he crouched down, another bullet struck his arm, causing it to jerk backward and nearly dislocate his shoulder.

The bullet's power was clearly from a sniper; a regular rifle wouldn't have that much power.

Being shot actually calmed Rosen down, and all his extraneous emotions disappeared.

He quickly sat down in the cockpit of the twin anti-aircraft gun—steel plates stood in front and on the sides of the cockpit, leaving only a fist-sized firing port in front for him to observe the outside. He gripped the cranks with both hands, flexed his fingers, and began to adjust the direction of the anti-aircraft gun.

The car started moving. Leng Feng jerked the steering wheel, the tires screeching as the monster roared out of the gate. Rosen quickly cranked the horizontal crank to adjust the cannon's direction, aiming it at the car's trajectory.

Suddenly, two Red Turban Army soldiers sprang out from behind a pile of garbage and opened fire on the pickup truck. Rosen quickly cranked the two cranks, adjusting the horizontal and vertical positions simultaneously. Just as the two figures were about to be caught in the sights, he stepped on the pedal without hesitation.