Looking at the three brand-new off-road vehicles,
they didn’t act rashly.
They just aid their guns
and beca alert.
Ordinary people wouldn’t drive such vehicles, let alone afford them. In this territory, there was an unwritten rule: even when setting up checkpoints to extort fees, don’t ss with those driving large, black off-road vehicles.
Because that’s what rcenaries are typically equipped with.
Although they weren’t afraid,
there was no need to provoke these desperate fugitives.
Dozens of Africans rushed out,
braving the downpour,
and blocked the checkpoint.
A checkpoint that was just an iron tripod— actually, to tell the truth, this kind of barrier welded together from construction steel pipes was very practical: the materials were easy to obtain, welding was convenient, and the protective effect was undeniable.
The design of the triangular barriers:
any ordinary vehicle crashing into it would be done for.
"Get out of the car,"
the leader of the Africans shouted at the vehicle.
"Click."
The passenger door opened.
A tall African man in a black suit, holding an umbrella, stepped out.
Seeing his attire
and his towering figure made them feel sowhat inferior. In Africa, due to malnutrition, the locals were generally thinner and shorter than the black people in the United States.
The man before them
was close to two ters tall.
Definitely a giant.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?" the leader of the Africans asked nervously.
"I have an appointnt with your tribe leader Belev. There is sothing we need to discuss. You can make a call to confirm. And afterwards you could guide us," said the fighter nonchalantly.
This place
was the tribe that the first pickup truck that followed the convoy belonged to.
Belev was the leader of this tribe. To avoid putting out fires after incidents occurred, the Black Prison always dealt with the wealth distribution of the mining field in advance. Next, they would start dealing with the forces along the way that wanted to profit from their situation.
The solution was simple.
Let a fish out.
Those wanting to catch the fish would naturally co.
Handle a few of the tougher fishern, and the rest wouldn’t dare to act up. They had called Belev earlier, and the other party had been quite arrogant, even wanting a share of the mining profits, demanding that the Black Prison send soone over if they wanted to talk.
And so,
they ca.
As for the timing,
it wasn’t for Belev to decide. Actually, they could have coordinated with Sadoke, but Sadoke was trying to use his own influence to negotiate terms with the Black Prison. It would be sowhat useful to involve him but not crucial.
Such matters
had to be resolved by the Black Prison themselves.
They wanted to show Sadoke
that without him,
they could still get things done. They sought him out simply to save themselves so trouble, but it also involved another plan concerning Sadoke, so this ti, the Black Prison would handle it themselves.
And they had to do it well.
"Why didn’t you co tomorrow, so late at night?" asked the leader of the Africans warily. He had not been inford of anyone coming, and the late hour made it all seem suspicious.
"Belev, the tribe leader, asked us to hurry. We had no choice but to co now," the fighter replied.
"Well... alright then, wait here," the leader of the Africans said, still puzzled. But judging by the tone, it really did seem like their tribe leader had summoned them, so he said to those beside him, "You keep watch, I’ll go make a call."
With that,
he jogged into the house.
He didn’t have a satellite phone.
Mobile phones aren’t available here either.
But landline telephones have quite a high penetration rate in the village. This place is far from the main road, and the Base stations by the roadside simply can’t provide coverage. I heard that a Huaxia Company would co to build a Base station.
But that won’t be until next month.
...
Inside the Tribe.
Belev, who had just gone to sleep, was woken up by the ringing of the phone again.
He was furious inside.
During the day, soone claiming to be from the "Black Jail" had called, saying they should release the ’sheep’ and not target them along the way anymore. The other party wasn’t penny-pinching at all, but instead offered a quota—$100,000 a year.
Upon hearing this, Belev thought.
$100,000.
Why would he be satisfied? He wanted more. These people were mining in his country, making extraordinary profits. Although it wasn’t on his turf, since they were passing by, it was only logical to get a share of the spoils.
He opened his eyes.
Seeing the number, Belev picked up the phone and started cursing, "What is it, don’t you know it’s night ti? If there isn’t a satisfying reason, you all will be on night shift for the next month."
They were from the sa Tribe.
Belev wasn’t one to kill people at the drop of a hat; he wasn’t so warlord. Assigning those at the Checkpoints to night shifts was already a fairly harsh punishnt—as Africans are also afraid of the dark.
"Chief Belev, soone has co to our place looking for you, saying you called for them. They claim to be sothing... Black Jail, yes, that’s the na," the leader said nervously.
"What I... wait, are you talking about people from Black Jail?" When Belev heard "Black Jail," his sleepiness vanished instantly, replaced by rage. He had told Black Jail to send people, but not in the middle of the night, and certainly not this late.
Belev angrily said, "Tell them to wait until dayti."
After speaking,
Belev hung up the phone with a bang.
Listening to the dial tone.
The leader at the Checkpoint was startled. It looked like the night shift was confird.
Putting down the phone and stepping out of the house, he addressed the Fighters loudly: "Chief Belev says for you to wait until dawn. I thought as much—at this late hour, why would Chief Belev et with outsiders?"
Luckily he knew these were not people to ss with, so he didn’t curse them out, rely grumbled a bit.
Hearing this,
The Fighter rely grunted in acknowledgent.
Back inside the car.
The dozen or so African guards didn’t leave. They just stared at the three vehicles, thinking about having to wait until morning, and their mood soured. They started to complain but didn’t dare to speak openly.
The night.
The sound of the wind.
The sound of the rain.
All these sounds were entering their ears.
Yet, against this loud backdrop of noise, a flash of silver crossed the distant sky. It slowly hovered above the Tribe, its underside opened up, and the next mont, a flash of light streaked across the night sky.
What followed was a roar from a building in the Tribe louder than thunder.
Flas soared into the sky.
And a tremor like a Level 5 earthquake followed.
It woke everyone in the Tribe.
At the Checkpoint.
Although at a limited distance, the imnse light from the explosion broke through the curtain of rain and caught their eye. They knew the direction—that was the Tribe’s Ammunition Depot.
"What happened?"
Belev was awoken by the artificial earthquake.
Listening to the sound akin to firecrackers by his ear, Belev’s face drastically changed. He clearly understood what it was. Despite the heavy rain, nothing could mask the unique sound of an explosion.
Belev dressed up.
Rushed out.
Seeing the flas shooting up into the sky.
His expression froze.
At that mont.
An underling rushed in.
He blurted out anxiously, "It’s bad, Chief Belev. Our Ammunition Depot exploded due to unknown reasons. The extent of the loss is unclear, but by the looks of it, there’s probably nothing left."
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