Chapter 19

The old woman in charge of the hotel had sternly given her instructions as they checked into their room. "There are two small rooms within this large room. Everything must remain undamaged, or you will be charged at the original price. Please, sir, remove your weapons from the TV."

As she unlocked the door and entered, the old woman switched on the room's light. The bulb flickered, indicating it wasn't at its best, and her Detroit accent was recognizable to Tang Dao, who had spent some time studying in the United States.

Osborn had already formed an unfavorable opinion of the old woman. He raised his hand and agreed, "Of course, ma'am," then retrieved the AKM assault rifle from the top of the old-fashioned TV. He turned to Tang Dao, rolling his eyes and making a face.

The old woman frowned and inspected the room several times before pausing. She squatted near the tea table, ran her fingers across its surface, and picked up a hair stuck to her finger. From her pocket, she retrieved a small piece of paper, wrapping the hair. Holding it in her hand, she approached the door and said politely, "Good night, gentlemen, I wish you sweet dreams."

"Damn it!" After the old woman left, Osborn hopped around, throwing punches in the air like a boxer. "If that old woman hadn't left, I'd have given her a left uppercut lesson."

Tang Dao rolled his eyes, picked up some gauze, and proceeded to the bathroom to tend to his wounds.

As he looked at his own reflection in the mirror, the reality of the situation struck him. If not for the armored vehicle, he might not be alive now. He realized that this was no longer a game; this was life or death.

It reminded him of Stilwell's words: there are two main types of human competition, civilized sports, and barbaric wars. Arms dealers like him were vultures profiting from wars. There was no way out for people like him.

A sense of urgency surged within Tang Dao. There were too many greedy predators and too few hunters. Alone, they would be overwhelmed and devoured. He stripped off his clothes to reveal the bruising on his right shoulder, then turned on the faucet, caught some water with both hands, and splashed it on his face. Coughing up phlegm into the sink, he picked up his clothes and headed back to the room, yelling, "Osborne... What are you doing?"

The latter half of his sentence was unconsciously shouted, and he suddenly widened his eyes.

Osborn had both hands on Witt, who was lying on the bed, and was making a strange expression.

"Boss..." Osborn quickly got up from the bed and tried to explain, "I was just trying to wake him up."

"Using your mouth?" Tang Dao shook his head and chuckled, "It's okay, I won't judge any form of love. However, it should be consensual, not forced. Good night."

With that, he walked into the inner room and locked the door, hearing the muffled curses from the other side.

Tang Dao couldn't help but smile and went to the small bed with a width of only 1.2 meters. The moonlight outside the window cast a rare sense of peace in the room.

...

"OMG!"

An inhuman scream interrupted Tang Dao's half-asleep state. Irritated, he opened the door and was about to speak, but he saw Witt pinning down Osborn and gripping him tightly. Osborn stuck out his tongue, and Tang Dao, bewildered, rushed over, forcefully pulling Witt away.

"What's going on? What happened?"

"I... How can I share a bed with him?" Witt exclaimed loudly.

"It turns out there's only one room in this hotel, and it's quite cramped," Tang Dao explained.

Witt blushed, put on his boxers, and angrily retorted, "Then why am I not wearing anything?"

Uh...

Not wearing anything?

Tang Dao turned and looked at Osborn with a puzzled expression. At that moment, he noticed the British guy blushing in embarrassment and hastily defended himself, "Hey! You did it yourself, not me."

"You took advantage of him?" Tang Dao crossed his arms and teased.

"I didn't!" the British guy protested loudly, his chest heaving rapidly, "If he comes at me naked, all I need to do is turn around to avoid him."

This remark nearly made Witt want to pounce on him again, and Radu couldn't hold back his laughter.

"Boom boom boom."

A rude pounding on the door followed by muffled curses echoed from the corridor. Gould, the Mexican, was obviously irritated by the noise. He had already knocked on their door.

Tang Dao opened the door and saw Gould's perplexed expression. "Gould? You're here too?"

"Are you staying here as well?" Gould asked, puzzled. He glanced at Osborn and Witt, who were now keeping their distance, and couldn't help but wonder, "What's going on with them?"

"Early mornings in Namibia can make people a bit crazy. These young guys need an outlet, so they're having a free fight," Tang Dao explained with a straight face. Gould raised an eyebrow, then nodded in understanding, saying, "I like this style, but they better keep it down. After all, we're not the only ones here."

"Damn it! Who's yelling at this hour? Send my regards to their mothers!" came a frustrated voice from the corridor.

Gould chuckled and said, "That Mexican guy is always so irritable." He then made a gesture indicating that everything was fine and was about to leave.

"Wait a minute," Tang Dao called him back.

Gould turned back, curious. Tang Dao looked at him with a thoughtful expression and said, "I have a proposal. Think about it carefully. I believe we can cooperate for a long time. I'll meet all your reasonable demands, offer you a 40% discount, and provide a base supply of no less than 200 rounds of ammunition per month. In return, I need one thing from your dog-headed mercenary group: promote me as the supplier of all your equipment. Just wear a few patches with my logo, and you'll enjoy these benefits. How does that sound?"

Gould was intrigued by the offer. A base supply of 200 rounds of ammunition per month was quite generous. He leaned in, considering the proposal.