Farming Life Starting in Africa

Upon hearing this, Rosen suddenly remembered something, so he went to the refrigerator in the house and dragged out a sheep. He also grabbed a bag of vacuum-packed braised chicken legs.

The lamb had been cleaned by Patrick, and the muscle texture on the leg was clearly visible, with alternating layers of fat and lean meat, making it look perfect for roasting.

Miao Feng leaned over to take a look, and was thinking about how to pickle the sheep when he suddenly noticed several not-so-small holes on the sheep's body.

"Why are there so many holes in this sheep..." Miao Feng poked the largest hole with his finger; the meat around the edge was already frozen white. "What skewered it like that?"

When the others saw the sheep, they all quietly took two chicken legs from the bag and started eating. Eating mutton is a time-consuming task.

Patrick went back inside to find some instant noodles; he had a big appetite, and chicken legs weren't enough for him. Ma Xiao also wanted some instant noodles, but after seeing the words on the packaging, he suddenly realized that chicken legs would be enough.

Rosen lay comfortably on a folding chair in the yard, legs crossed, took a braised chicken leg from a plastic bag next to him, tore open the packaging, took a bite, and said casually as he chewed, "I fired this when I was testing the gun."

Miao Feng, holding the sheep, looked constipated, his lips twitching. "Then... is this still edible? You used this sheep as target practice, won't the meat contain lead? Won't it be poisonous?"

Zhou Weijie was soaking his feet on the side, while he was also gnawing on a chicken leg, his mouth glistening with oil, looking very content.

"What's wrong with eating this?" Zhou Weijie said, spitting out the chicken bones. "I know a group of people who use antifreeze to marinate their meat when they grill it. If they think the heat isn't strong enough, they'll sprinkle gunpowder from bullets on the meat. They're still alive and kicking, not a single one of them is dead."

Rosen turned his head in surprise. "Won't this kill people? Heavy metals, carcinogens, ethylene glycol—aren't these all deadly? One bottle of antifreeze and your kidneys will be burned off."

Zhou Weijie grinned, his smile odd. "I don't know. They say that meat grilled that way has a different flavor, a slightly sweet one."

Rosen and his companions rolled their eyes. Even Rosen, with his extraordinary regenerative abilities, wouldn't dare try these poisonous substances. How could those people dare? They were probably either lunatics or people who didn't value their lives.

Once the charcoal fire was lit, the lamb was marinated briefly before being thrown into the oven to be tortured.

The group continued eating, quickly finishing their chicken legs. They casually tossed the bones into the charcoal fire, which sizzled and released a faint aroma of caramel.

A gentle night breeze carried the aroma of barbecue from the courtyard, and the fatigue of the group after a long day seemed to be lessened by the breeze.

Leng Feng had just finished showering when he flared his nostrils, took a deep breath, and recognized the smell as roasted mutton. His stomach immediately rumbled loudly, loud enough for the people next to him to hear.

"This is good!" Leng Feng grinned and leaned closer, his eyes fixed on the lamb still simmering in the oven. "How much longer until we can eat?"

Miao Feng glanced down at his watch. "About three more hours. Lamb needs to be roasted slowly; you can't rush it."

Leng Feng's face immediately fell. "Is there anything else to eat? I'm starving."

Zhou Weijie then interjected, "Yes, there's instant noodles in the room. Look, that black guy is eating them with relish." He pointed to the corner of the room, where a figure was sitting on a low stool, quietly eating instant noodles.

Leng Feng looked at them and asked, "Aren't you hungry?"

Rosen and the others shook their heads with strange expressions, indicating that roasted lamb was more fragrant.

Leng Feng sighed helplessly, turned around and went into the house.

He searched the kitchen for a long time, but there was really nothing to eat in the refrigerator except for drinks.

When he saw the names on the instant noodle packaging, his expression instantly turned sour.

The four characters "Lao Tan Suan Cai" (老痰酸菜, literally "Old Phlegm Pickled Cabbage") are printed in large letters on the packaging. Any Chinese person seeing this name would feel disgusted. No wonder only Patrick's is eating it.

He came out of the house dejectedly. "Hey! Little Luo! Do you still have those small bread rolls?"

"Yes, it's there!" Rosen said without turning his head, pointing to the pickup truck parked in the yard. "It's in the truck! Go get it yourself!"

Leng Feng ran off to get the bread.

After he had walked away, Rosen suddenly turned around and looked at Zhou Weijie strangely: "Did he offend you? We still have quite a few braised chicken legs here, why don't you give him a few bags?"

At this point, Zhou Weijie's face immediately fell: "When we sneaked into the front gate of the Iron Army this morning, this bastard actually tried to bury those Claymore mines at the entrance of their mine. He can't hide, and there are other sentries in the mine. It was because he went too deep that we were suddenly exposed."

"I wonder how unlucky the officer who was in the army must have been to encounter such a fool. In the army, the squad leader would probably want to beat him up every day."

Rosen grinned, silently thinking to himself: Captain China is awesome.

If it weren't exposed, Rosen guessed that Leng Feng's real intention was probably to blow up the mine exit, trapping those Iron Army soldiers inside. Simple and brutal, that's in line with his character.

The problem is, the hostages are still inside. If he really blows up all the entrances, the kidnappers will only be able to come out through the back door, and then the hostages will be the ones who suffer.

"That Leng Feng," Rosen leaned back in his chair, watching the stars gradually brighten in the night sky, "is a master in battle, but saving lives is another matter entirely. But then again—if you can keep him in check on the battlefield, he can still be a teammate. Because you don't have to worry about him running away; the Chinese captain will always be at the forefront of your charge."

That evening, the group of men finally finished off the whole roasted lamb that Rosen had used as a target. A large plate was piled high with lamb bones, and even the marrow was sucked clean.

Rosen wiped his greasy hands with a wet wipe, then took the box of money out of the car.

With a loud crash, the large briefcase slammed onto the tin table in the yard, making the plates on the table jump.

He opened the box with a grin.

At that moment, everyone's eyes widened in disbelief.

The box was piled high with hundred-dollar bills, stacked neatly like bricks. The distinctive smell of new ink wafted through the air, so strong it almost overpowered the lingering aroma of roasted lamb. The green banknotes gleamed with a reassuring sheen under the dim light of the yard lamp.