Farming Life Starting in Africa

Most of Hong Kong's wealthy businessmen are on the same boat as them, which is why the Huo family is so rare and valuable.

After Hong Kong's return to China, they still wanted to cripple its economy, joining forces with financial giants to launch a financial attack against Hong Kong. They've solidified global animosity towards the country most strongly; if a nuclear war were to break out, Britain would undoubtedly be the most bombed nation in Europe. The war can be lost, but Britain must perish.

After listening to his complaints, Zhou Weijie remained silent for two seconds. "Ivia is in a mess right now. I have to go there myself to get information."

Rosen nodded and returned to his car. He wanted to contact Fahd first—the government officer who was always the first to run away in every battle.

He knew absolutely nothing about Ivia next door, so he might as well ask this local man if he knew anything.

We can also chat about how to squeeze some money out of these hostages—after all, we rescued twenty people, we can't just do it for nothing, right? Someone has to reimburse us for the cost of fuel, bullets, ammunition, emotional distress, and lost sleep, right?

Once in the car, I saw Ma Xiao still on the phone chatting with his wife about trivial things. Things like "I miss you so much," "Have you lost weight?" and "Are the kids being good?"—it was the same few phrases over and over again.

"Hey!" Rosen tapped the back of his seat. "Satellite phones are expensive! How much are you willing to pay? This isn't China Mobile; we don't have family plans!"

Ma Xiao waved his hand with a sheepish grin, his smile ingratiating, and said to the person on the other end of the phone, "Okay, okay, I know. Xiao Luo is calling me, I'll hang up now..."

Rosen rolled his eyes, took the satellite phone, and dialed Fahd's number.

The phone rang several times before being answered. The voice sounded sleepy. "Hey! Honey Badger! Why are you calling me so early?" Fahad's voice was very unhappy; he seemed to be grumpy from being woken up.

"Get up and pee!"

Fahd was stunned for a moment, then snapped, "Damn it, I didn't go to sleep until three or four in the morning! What do you want?"

"Okay, I apologize. I have a question for you. What do you know about Ivia? I need information."

Fahd didn't know much. After all, he was an officer from Uller, not Ivia. However, from his fragmented descriptions, Rosen pieced together a rough picture of Ivia's current situation.

Chaos has completely broken out there. The capital is engulfed in flames, and the president has been attacked by a car bomb on the side of the road; his fate is unknown.

However, the government troops are still organizing resistance, and the rebels can't break through for the time being. It's a war of attrition now, a battle to see who runs out of ammunition first, and whose men collapse or die first.

Rosen didn't get any useful information from Fahd either. He knew absolutely nothing about the kidnapping of the Chinese.

"Alright, alright," Rosen interrupted him. "Fahd, I have a group of hostages here, just rescued from the Iron Army, twenty in total, mostly white. I'll take them back to Uller in a bit, can you help receive them? Any problems?"

"No problem, no problem!" Fahad's voice suddenly became enthusiastic, completely different from before. "Just send it over! Uller is safe for now—we've driven back the Red Turbans, and they won't have a chance to attack anytime soon."

At this point, he suddenly realized something, and his voice abruptly rose: "Wait—the people you rescued from the Iron Army? How did you do that? That's Hassud's territory! You went alone? How many people did you bring back?"

“Never mind how I did it,” Rosen said, his tone carrying a “trade secret” air of mystery. “There are twenty men in total, mostly white. When we get to Uller, I’ll put them in your camp, and you’ll provide them with some paid services. You set the price. We’ll split the profits equally, how about that?”

"Hahaha!" Fahad's laughter echoed through the microphone, making Rosen's ears ring. "Good brother! No problem! How could I refuse such a good deal? Twenty white gentlemen, I'll squeeze at least eight hundred thousand dollars out of them! You're much more generous than your uncle! We'll split it 50/50!"

Rosen smiled, unconcerned. The biggest difference between him and Qian Bida was that Qian Bida liked to hog the spoils and cheat his friends, while Rosen knew how to share the profits. Oh, no, I mean, to share the gains.

"Oh, right, there's one more thing," Rosen said, his tone suddenly becoming casual, "I have Hassud's body here. Where can I exchange it for the bounty? Do you know any connections?"

There was a sudden silence on the other end of the phone. After a long while, Fahd's voice trembled with barely suppressed excitement, "My good brother...you...you really killed Hassud? You're not kidding me?"

"Yeah, I wanted to ask you where to collect the bounty, because I need to cover my gas expenses."

Fahd's exaggerated laughter rang out again, "I'll give you the bounty! You don't need to look for anyone else! Just give me Hasud's body! Hahaha—this time my father-in-law can't scold me anymore!"

"You're paying the bounty yourself? Do you have two million dollars?"

"Of course I didn't pay for it myself! I could ask my father-in-law! Such a huge contribution would solidify his position, and I could benefit from it and get promoted three ranks! You know my father-in-law has connections in the Ministry of National Defense. But, my good brother—you don't mind, do you? The credit could go to me?"

Rosen glanced speechlessly at the desolate landscape outside the window. The sun was already high in the sky, and the desert gleamed blindingly white in the sunlight.

He silently grumbled to himself, "This awful country is no different from back home. People try to claim credit everywhere, but I never expected to run into it in the African desert."

On the other end of the phone, Fahad seemed to sense Rosen's silence, and his tone carried a hint of sincerity, "Brother, it's not that I want to steal your credit! Listen to me—handing over Hassud's body will not only get you that money, but it will also attract the hatred of his allies!"

He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, then continued, "Why don't you hand him over to me—the credit is mine, and the risks are mine too. How about this, all the spoils from those hostages are yours; I guarantee you'll squeeze at least eight hundred thousand dollars out of them! If that's not enough, I'll make up the rest! Is that alright?"

Rosen was even more speechless after hearing this.

But upon closer reflection, Fahd's words made sense. As a foreigner, taking Hassud's bounty would only bring him trouble and bring him no benefit whatsoever.

"Okay," Rosen said, "I'll head to Uller in a bit. Find out some information about Ivia and the Zaka organization for me; I'm planning a trip there."

"Ivia? What are you going there for?" Fahad asked. "It's even more chaotic there than here. Are you tired of living?"