Chapter 15

Belial Wave.

Situated in the western outskirts of Herutfontein, a town with a population of only 7,000 people, Belial was known for its abundant tourmaline deposits. Roughly 20% of West Africa's tourmaline production was shipped from this town to destinations around the world, making it the largest tourmaline trading market in Namibia and even West Africa. Due to the ongoing conflict between government forces and rebel groups, the town had become eerily deserted.

The BTR-40, weighing in at five tons, rumbled along the gravel road leading to Belial. The street, about five meters wide, appeared empty on both sides, but pairs of curious eyes peered from behind wooden doors. Household garbage littered the streets, and the overall environment was deplorable. Rotting animal carcasses hung from gatehouses, attracting swarms of mosquitoes.

"This place stinks to high heaven," Job complained, pinching his nose as he retracted his head from the roof hatch. He gasped for fresh air after sitting inside the vehicle, patting himself down as if the foul odor had clung to him. "I didn't even see a single person..." Before he could finish his sentence, the brakes screeched to a halt, and Job, unaware, collided with the table and chairs in front of him, leaving his left cheek bruised.

"Damn, you scared me," Osborne said as he leaned forward, turning his attention to a black child who stood in front of the vehicle with his hands outstretched and his eyes tightly shut, trembling visibly. The child had darted in front of the vehicle and narrowly avoided being run over.

"Get out of the way!" Osborne shouted.

"Please, sir, help me," the child beseeched, his eyes half-open.

"I told you to move!" Osborne's patience ran thin. When the child failed to comply, he removed his AKM from the vehicle and aimed it at the ground near the child's feet. He pulled the trigger without hesitation, and the sound of the gunshot caused the child to cower, covering his head.

"Jerk," Osborne muttered under his breath, slamming the car door shut and restarting the engine. Tang Dao, sitting beside him, kept a watchful eye but remained silent. He knew that Osborne must have had his reasons for doing what he did, but he wasn't well-acquainted with the British man.

As the transport truck departed, a group of children and a few adults rushed out from various directions. Some held stones in their hands.

"Baine, why did you let them go?" a burly black man demanded, grabbing the black boy by his hair and delivering a punch to his face. The boy's face was instantly smeared with blood as he begged for mercy, "He... they were going to shoot me."

"Dammit."

The burly man threw Baine to the ground forcefully, glaring at the retreating armored vehicle with frustration. They had gathered to prey on these outsiders who seemed to be easy targets, but now the prey had slipped away. Their anger was palpable.

...

"O...Osborn, did you really intend to kill that child just now?" Job couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. His left cheek, now bruised and swollen, was still hurting, and his voice trembled.

"This is Africa! The most chaotic region among the five continents. Do you think black people here are stupid? They're smarter than anyone else. We didn't see a single person, and then a child suddenly appears. Doesn't that strike you as strange? Here, you have to curb your curiosity and learn how to watch others die without being indifferent," Osborne replied, his irritation showing. He waved his hand dismissively, saying, "You'll understand eventually."

Seeing that Osborne's temper was flaring up, Job refrained from asking further questions and returned to his seat. Tang Dao observed Osborne with interest, thinking that the British man likely had quite a story to tell. He looked ahead and suddenly said, "This is it!"

Tut Gym!

Named after the African mythological God of Wisdom, this large gymnasium had been built by the French for 3,000 francs. However, due to the dire circumstances of the people in this area, struggling with famine, the gymnasium had turned into a bustling trading market after the outbreak of the Namibian civil war.

The main commodities traded here were arms and supplies, and a complex web of interests had formed. The local government allowed merchants to set up stalls here but levied a handling fee of 1% of the goods' price. Nearly two companies, each with more than 100 people, maintained order. Not everyone here was trouble, but seeing the heavy machine guns mounted above the stadium, visitors quickly learned to tread carefully. This was a place where people came to make money, and no one wanted to disrupt the status quo.

In essence, it was like a black market, only more open.

The BTR-40 armored

The mix of different languages and curious onlookers formed a bustling scene as Tang Dao and the others unloaded weapons from the armored vehicle.

"Hey, buddy, how much for this AK47?" A tall, well-built Caucasian man squeezed his way in and asked, his Russian origin evident from his appearance. Caucasians come in various types, including Nordic, Eastern European, Mediterranean, and more. Russians are predominantly of Caucasian and Eastern European types, with some Asians mixed in.

Tang Dao gestured with his fingers, "It's $700, comes with two rounds in the magazine."

$700?

Pricey!

The white man's face soured, but he didn't say anything. He began to get up and leave, but Tang Dao stopped him, saying, "Sir, this is a genuine Russian product, not a knock-off. Take a look."

With that, he grabbed the barrel of the AK47 and slammed it hard against the ground. The sound was solid, and he repeated the action several times. While the lower cover showed a few cracks, the weapon remained largely intact. Tang Dao gave a thumbs-up and said, "See? It's sturdy. Interested?"

It was an unconventional marketing strategy, throwing the gun on the ground when negotiations weren't going well.

And it was a $700 gun!

"Of course, we also offer discounts. If you buy more than $3,000 worth of goods from us, next time, we'll give you a 15% discount. If your purchase exceeds $10,000, you'll get a 25% discount. How about that?" Tang Dao's gaze was sharp, like a vulture eyeing the dollars in someone's pocket.