Farming Life Starting in Africa

The storage room wasn't large, maybe twenty or thirty square meters. It was crammed full of things. Against one wall were over thirty rifles, and next to them were a dozen or so wooden crates, presumably containing ammunition. On the other side were dozens of huge old mineral water bottles. In the far corner, a large pile of backpacks and clothes was haphazardly stacked.

But Rosen's gaze didn't linger on these things for long.

Because there were two other people in the storage room.

In the low-light night vision goggles, the two men were lying on the wooden crates, in the same posture as the two sentries at the door earlier—they were asleep.

Rosen lifted the visor on his helmet and looked at his watch.

The clock shows it's 3:28.

He took out a composite crossbow, one in each hand, and slowly walked into the storage room.

Because of the lamplight, he dared not get too close, afraid that his shadow would wake someone up.

He chose an angle, ensuring the accuracy of the two arrows' trajectories, and then pulled the trigger.

"Whoosh—" "Whoosh—"

Two arrows pierced the jaws of the two sleeping men with pinpoint accuracy, penetrating their brains. Without a struggle, the two men merely twitched once, then remained still.

He took out three pumpkin bombs from the capsule space, stuffed them into the rifles, and set the bombs to release mode.

The power of three pumpkin bombs was enough to send every creature in this storeroom to meet their seventy-two virgins.

Just after the setup was complete, Zhou Weijie's voice came through the communication headset in the helmet, "Honey Badger, we've arrived. How's it going on your end?"

"I've arrived at their supply room and am looking for where the hostages are being held."

"Okay, hurry up—"

Before Zhou Weijie could finish speaking, a violent explosion suddenly came through the earphones, and Rosen felt the vibration even in the cave.

"The cold front is engaged in combat! Speed ​​up!" Zhou Weijie's voice became urgent.

Without further hesitation, Rosen put away his crossbow, took out his AK74, cocked it with a "click," and quickly searched deeper into the cave.

Moving backward from the storage room, a faint miner's lamp hangs on the wall every ten meters or so along the tunnel.

After running around a 90-degree corner, Rosen found himself at a Y-shaped intersection. He stood there, unsure which way to go, when footsteps echoed from the mine shaft to his right.

Rosen reacted faster than his brain. He turned around and quickly retreated behind the corner he had just come from, pressing himself against the rock wall and crouching motionless in the shadow of the light, even slowing his breathing.

The footsteps grew closer, and four figures rushed out of the mine on the right, running past Rosen.

When the last person ran up to Rosen, he suddenly glanced into the shadows without thinking.

That one glance cost him his life.

Rosen gave him no chance to react. His finger was firmly on the trigger—

"Da da da da da da—"

The AK74 spat fire, and in the narrow alley, the gunshots were reflected back and forth by the rock walls, making ears ring.

A burst of bullets swept from left to right, passing through the upper bodies of the last three men, the blood splattering in the light of their headlamps appearing an eerie dark red.

Without uttering a sound, the three men collapsed to the ground, twitched a couple of times, and then remained still.

The person running at the front was lucky enough to only take a bullet to his right arm. He staggered forward a few steps, and his will to survive made him grit his teeth and try to keep running.

Rosen hesitated for a moment, then lowered the muzzle of his gun slightly and fired another shot into the man's thigh.

"clatter!"

The bullet pierced the thigh muscle, and the man screamed in agony, collapsing to the ground as if his tendons had been pulled out, rolling around on the ground clutching his leg.

Rosen pulled out his MK3 Ontario knife from his waist, walked over, squatted down next to the still-struggling man, pressed the blade against his neck, and asked in the local language, "Tell me, which way is the hostage being held? Tell me and I'll spare your life."

The person lying on the ground was trembling all over, whether from fear or pain. He looked at Rosen's expressionless face, opened his mouth but no sound came out.

Rosen sighed, removed the military knife from the man's neck, and then without hesitation plunged it into the gun hole in his arm, twisting it forcefully.

The sound of a blade scraping against bone was exceptionally clear in the quiet alleyway.

The man immediately let out a pig-like wail, the sound echoing through the alley. He tried to reach out his other hand to stop it, but the pain from his wound pulled him back as soon as he raised his hand.

He mumbled something in the local language, but Rosen ignored him, staring blankly at the man. "I don't like repeating questions. Where are the hostages?"

The man raised his intact arm and pointed shakily to the mine shaft on the left.

Rosen glanced at the sign he was pointing at, nodded, and politely said, "Thank you."

Then he turned around and plunged the military knife into the man's heart.

The saber slid in between the ribs with almost no resistance. The man's eyes widened suddenly, and Rosen's face was reflected in his pupils.

Fear, suffocation, resentment—various expressions flashed across his face, finally settling into an empty, bewildered look.

Rosen pulled out his knife, wiped the blood on the man's clothes, then squatted down and placed booby traps under him and the other three corpses.

After making the arrangements, he stood up, held the rifle at his waist, and quickly ran towards the mine tunnel on the left.

He didn't believe these terrorists would dare lie to him when his life was threatened. Human beings, in the face of death, have nothing but paper when it comes to faith, loyalty, and honor.

Rosen ran quickly forward along the left-hand mine shaft, but his footsteps were barely audible. His soft-soled cloth shoes rustled softly on the gravel, like a cat walking on cotton.

After running for about a kilometer, he began to doubt whether he had been scammed.

Just as his patience was about to run out, the alleyway suddenly opened up into a bright and spacious place.

In front of us was a chamber of two or three hundred square meters. In two corners of the chamber, two cages were separated by iron railings.

The cage on the left was full of men. Rosen glanced over and saw about ten of them, all sitting on the ground looking dejected. A few of them lit up instantly when they saw him pop out.

The cage on the right contains women, seven or eight of them, all crammed together. There are a few white women and a few Asian women.

There were six guards in this chamber. However, their vigilance was really poor; they all carried their guns on their backs.

The moment Rosen emerged from the alleyway, the guard closest to him turned around.

Eyes facing each other.

Then he opened his mouth wide and frantically reached for the gun strap on his shoulder.