Chapter 97

Heiwa observed Tang Dao and the three other tense men with a fascinated expression. As he touched the back of his head, he muttered to himself, "So commanding, old man, this guy is truly commanding."

"Hey, wake up! The food is ready. If you keep daydreaming, your head will tilt," Lao Chen chided him, playfully kicking him in the buttocks and then gesturing him to come over.

Heiwa diligently brought the food over, his anticipation growing as he approached the man.

The stern and imposing profile of Tang Dao gave off an aura of unwavering determination, and his eyes radiated confidence. To Heiwa, it was like looking at a hungry hyena, those wild and intense eyes gazing at a fresh carcass. Even the burly white man seated behind Tang Dao appeared eager, his eyes openly assessing Heiwa's vulnerability, sending shivers down Heiwa's spine.

Lowering his head, Heiwa served the dishes, and the closer he got to Tang Dao, the more he felt his heart racing.

Tang Dao nonchalantly picked up a piece of tofu with his chopsticks and took a bite. The tofu was silky smooth and packed with spicy flavor. He looked at Heiwa and asked, his tone gentle, "Do you have chopsticks?"

"Chopsticks? Yes, I'll get them for you," Heiwa replied. He dashed into the kitchen and returned breathlessly after a moment, a beaming smile on his face. His simple and honest expression made his smile look pure. Handing the chopsticks to Tang Dao, he asked in surprise, "What did you say?"

"My old man taught me," Heiwa replied humbly.

Tang Dao nodded, took another bite of tofu, and remarked, "This is delicious. I didn't expect to find a skilled chef here in Mogadishu." He gestured with his chopsticks toward Frantesc and the others and chuckled, "Do you know what this tofu symbolizes in China?"

The group exchanged puzzled glances and shook their heads, indicating they had no idea.

"Tofu is incredibly soft, you see, even a light touch can break it. Do I look like tofu to you?" Tang Dao asked, holding the tofu between his chopsticks and moving it gently. He looked at them expectantly, his expression challenging.

Suddenly, Osborn, seated behind him, drew a dagger and slammed it forcefully onto the table, sending a chilling message.

The sudden act startled everyone at the table. Frantesc's bodyguards sprang to their feet, fingers on the triggers of their weapons. The Savior company even aimed their machine gun from the armored vehicle at the establishment, ready to unleash a hail of bullets. They were prepared to lay waste to the place.

Heiwa, on the other hand, sat down on the floor, then dashed back into the kitchen. "Old man, things are getting serious out there," he reported.

"Serious? What's your plan?" Lao Chen asked.

"I'm going to check," Old Chen replied, setting aside a stack of firewood to reveal a hidden hole. "Hide in the cellar."

Heiwa hesitated. "What about you?"

"I'll take a look," Old Chen said. He then picked up a bundle of firewood, wiped his hands on his apron, and hid behind the door, ready to observe the situation closely. If things took a turn for the worse, he could make a quick escape.

"Mr. Nicholas, what's going on here?" Frantesc asked, feigning innocence. "We don't understand what you mean."

The men around the table pretended they had no recollection of previous events, merely waiting to watch the drama unfold. Could merely watching make them accomplices?

Tang Dao stared at them for a moment, then lightly nudged Osborn, who withdrew his dagger. On the table, a gash, a thumb's width wide, remained as a reminder of the weapon's deadly potential. He gave them a chilling look.

"It's alright. My employees aren't aware of the protocols," Tang Dao dismissed their concerns, casually resting his elbows on the table. He picked up the tofu again and took a bite. "I don't know what happened before or the agreement Cecily made with you, but now that the fool is dead, Somalia needs new rules."

Tang Dao, while Cecilio was alive, would eat with the others, taking his time. Now, however, he no longer bothered with such pretenses.

He raised his foot to point at the black man who appeared about to speak. "Hush! I'm not interested in your opinions."

Old Hei's face turned crimson, and he was on the brink of flipping the table. But, as soon as he stood, fear surged through him, and he reluctantly began pouring tea for the other patrons.

"You still have doubts? You guys are missing out on the Somalia and North African markets," Tang Dao continued. He looked at Frantesc and said bluntly, "You have the finest firearms factory in Western Europe, SBR Arsenal, and in the first half of the year, you only sold 3,000 pistols to five or six countries. Aren't you ashamed?"

Their personal IQ and capabilities were certainly beyond ordinary. They grasped the essence of Tang Dao's words immediately, but the question remained: How could they make buyers have the final say? Was it through commercial bribery?

"Mr. Nicholas, do you have any suggestions?" the smarter Frantesc inquired.

"What's in it for me?" Tang Dao deflected, instead of offering a direct response.

The group exchanged glances, struggling to articulate their thoughts. Tang Dao took the reins again, saying, "I'd like to purchase from you, but at a 70% discount from market prices. If you agree, we can work together to monopolize Somalia or the North African market. If not, I can easily find other partners."

The first half of Tang Dao's proposition prompted them to consider a flat refusal. How could they possibly profit at a 70% discount? However, the second part of his offer intrigued them: monopolizing the North African market? Did this Asian have such a grand vision?

"If you agree, Mr. Aidid will immediately order a batch of 700 pistols," Tang Dao asserted firmly. His plan was clear: if you wanted to purchase from him, you would need to buy Frantesc pistols as well. While they were not expensive, priced at around $300 each, a batch of 700 would amount to a bit over 2 million yuan. However, Tang Dao's company would handle post-sales services and provide various preferential offers.

This business tactic was common in the world of car dealerships in the post-millennial era. There was even a U.S. supermarket that required customers buying slippers to also purchase shoe covers, which led to a significant controversy and even legal battles.

Yet, arms were not like slippers; they were a necessity in times of war. By monopolizing the arms business in Somalia and pushing out or suppressing other retail investors, they could secure their own lucrative position. Monopoly was the most profitable type of business, and Tang Dao had the means to implement it.

The three men felt the pressure. Although Tang Dao's plan aligned well with their individual aspirations, they still needed to consult their companies. Could they

convince high-level executives to come on board? Everyone at the table had their thoughts, but one thing was for sure: their interest was piqued.