Chapter 16

Tang Dao took a sip of the mineral water handed over by Osborn, but the white man still seemed hesitant.

"Can it be cheaper?" the white man asked in a soft voice, clearly feeling a bit embarrassed.

Tang Dao's expression shifted as he carefully examined the white man. He noticed that the man was carrying a VZ58 automatic rifle produced by the Czech Ursky Bro German Battalion Arsenal, a weapon that had almost been phased out due to its reputation for self-harming. The VZ58 was known for its high failure rate under certain conditions, low muzzle velocity, and high rate of fire. In fact, it had earned the nickname "self-explosive device" due to these issues. Most users of this rifle were considered less discerning.

"How much can you pay?" Tang Dao inquired.

The white man retrieved a stack of wrinkled US dollars from his pocket, counted them meticulously, and then looked at Tang Dao. "I can pay $410."

A hushed murmur rippled through the onlookers who were familiar with the situation. "Witt, did you spend all your money on women again?" one of them taunted.

Witt Rodel's face reddened, and he clenched his fist tightly, glaring at the person who had made the remark. However, he realized he was outnumbered, and rather than escalate the situation, he took a deep breath, suppressed his wounded pride, and chose not to respond. Witt was just a freelance mercenary, and picking a fight would only lead to trouble for himself. He simply waved his hand in irritation. "You might as well stay quiet; no one would think you're dumb, Gould."

Gould merely smiled without offering a rebuttal, observing the situation with folded arms. Among mercenaries, the strong respected the stronger, and Gould recognized Witt's combat skills. He still remembered how Witt had once used an entrenching tool to crush the head of a Frenchman who had crossed him, as well as how he had choked a comrade who tried to intervene with his bare hands. Witt was a ruthless individual, and although he sometimes engaged in light-hearted banter, he avoided making enemies.

Tang Dao, sensing an opportunity, chimed in, "I'm sorry, sir, my employee has been showing symptoms of Down's syndrome, so please ignore him."

Witt wore an unpleasant expression as he turned and pushed the taunting individual aside. However, Tang Dao blocked his path. "Shall we try a different approach?"

Witt turned back, visibly intrigued. "Huh?"

"I'll be staying here for a couple more days. How about I hire you as a guide? After two days, I'll provide you with an AK47 and some basic ammunition," Tang Dao proposed with a smile. It seemed like a win-win situation in his eyes. Witt was familiar with the area, and it would be helpful to have him as a guide to avoid unnecessary trouble.

Witt agreed without hesitation, eager for the offer. He pocketed his VZ58 and perched himself on the BTR-40's rooftop. He had struck a deal. As Witt settled into his new role, he lit a cigarette. Initially, he had intended to toss the pack away when Osborne suddenly reached out to grab one. However, after seeing the brand, CAMEL, Osborne changed his mind, snatched a cigarette, and sheepishly asked for a light.

"Do you have any 7.62mm bullets?" Gould inquired.

Tang Dao patted the ammunition box beneath him, creating a rattling sound. He gazed at the departing Gould and his team, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I have 400 rounds here, worth $400."

The price was reasonable. A 7.62mm bullet cost $2, but he was selling them at $1 each, keeping the cost low. Tang Dao was looking at the bigger picture; if a buyer ran out of ammunition during combat, they'd be willing to pay a premium for it.

"I'll take two boxes," Gould responded.

Tang Dao watched as his teammates handed over four $100 bills, finally catching a glimpse of the money he would receive upfront. He squeezed the dollars, creating a satisfying clinking sound, then tilted his head and rubbed his chin as he observed Gould and his team, thinking about his next move.

"Hush~" Tang Dao whistled to Witt and beckoned him over with a hooked finger. Witt quickly snuffed out his cigarette on the roof of the car and jumped down, unsure of how to address Tang Dao.

"Just call me Nicholas," Tang Dao said, then pointed towards Gould's departing group. "Do you know where they're from?"

Witt squinted in thought. "I heard he's from Seville, but I don't know his exact background. He's fairly well-known on the Namibian battlefield."

"He's the leader of the Dog-Headed Mercenary Regiment. There are 17 members, all veterans. I know one of them used to be a shooting instructor for the special forces in the Baltic States. They make around $30,000 in income on this battlefield," Tang Dao explained.

"Is he formidable?" Tang Dao asked with interest.

Witt pondered for a moment before nodding slowly. "Three days ago, the government forces launched a surprise attack on a rebel ammunition depot, and they were the vanguard. They nearly broke through the rebel defense line. Moreover, their close combat skills are exceptional. I suspect some of them have received systematic training, and I even suspect that their leader is a retired elite soldier from a certain country."

Tang Dao appreciated Witt's insights, patted him on the shoulder, and said with a smile, "You're quite knowledgeable."

"He once invited me to join the Dog-Headed Mercenary Regiment, but I declined," Witt revealed, shrugging. He was like an enigmatic figure, full of mysteries and stories. However, he chose not to reveal too much, and Tang Dao didn't press him further. After all, he couldn't afford to carry too much useless baggage in his mind.