A remote factory in Tijuana.

A bit far from the city center.

Gao Jun asked several citizens before he found it.

Who said Mexicans are tough?

They are so considerate. I don’t know where Colombia, which is known as the “smallest” country in the Latin American world, comes from so much discrimination?

The factory was covered with weeds. When the heavy truck stopped, Gao Jun jumped out of the passenger seat and looked around.

"Gao, where are the people?" Paul shouted.

"Let me make a call." Gao Jun took out his mobile phone, stretched the antenna slightly, and put his left hand on his waist. When he was about to make a call, he saw a man walking out of an abandoned factory.

Wearing a suit, his figure is a bit bloated.

"Mr. Yuri?" The other party raised his hand in greeting.

"Mr. Bart?"

The other party nodded, and Gao Jun showed an amiable smile on his face. He shook his hand and pointed at the heavy truck, "It's all in there. Do you need to click on it?"

"Wait a minute, I'll have someone come move the goods. Please sit inside for a while." Bart was very polite.

The two of them did not refuse and followed him into the factory. At first glance, they saw a man being held in mid-air by a rope. His flesh and blood were bruised. He must have been lynched. His blood was dripping on the ground.

Gao Jun's eyelids jumped, and Paul's face suddenly turned pale. Normal people would sometimes be intolerable when it comes to slaughtering pigs, let alone humans?

Sounds of beatings and curses were heard, and seven or eight people were seen on the wall with their hands tied and hoods on, kneeling on the ground, shivering, and someone was whipping them hard with a whip.

Bart asked a few people to move the weapons down first and inspect the goods. He rummaged through the mottled wooden table and took out a folder.

"Nicholas Yuri." He pointed at one of the names, "300 tec-9 submachine guns, 100,000 rounds of ammunition?"

"Yes." Gao Jun saw at a glance that there were orders in the folder, and he also saw a few familiar names on it.

Colt, Ruger, Remington…

And there are quite a few of them.

Most of them were eaten by them.

"Halse, hurry up." Bart waved to his subordinate at the door, who was carrying a wooden box with the words: Fragile Items on it.

Hearing the boss's voice, Ma Zai quickly ran over and used an iron bar to pry open the weapon inside. The smell of fresh gun oil came out.

Bart bent down to take one, and even stretched out his nose to smell it.

"Can I try the gun?" he asked, looking at Gao Jun.

"certainly."

Bart took the magazine, pulled the bolt of the gun, and walked towards the wall. Gao Jun and Paul immediately understood that he was going to use these people to test the gun!

Standing in front of them, perhaps feeling the imminent death, faint sobs gradually sounded, but were soon drowned out by the gunshots.

Some people always think that the gun is click-dap-dap, but that is not true. African black dogs only use strafing. They usually shoot in bursts, with two or three rounds going out in succession.

Paul turned his head reluctantly.

Gao Jun's lips trembled slightly and he listened carefully, "80 cents, 1.6 US dollars, 2.4 US dollars..."

Bart walked back with a happy face, touched the tec-9 submachine gun fondly, gave a thumbs up, and then realized that one of its sections was broken, and praised it without hesitation.

"Customer satisfaction is our biggest pursuit. If you need it, you can continue to contact me and I will deliver the goods for you at any time and anywhere." Gao Jun handed over the business card he had prepared.

There is a name and phone number on it: Nicholas Yuri.

Bart took it, glanced at it, stuffed it into the lining of his clothes, and waved to Ma Zai, who saw the latter coming over with a box. After opening it, there were green coins all inside.

The two people's eyes were immediately attracted.

Paul swallowed in dismay.

Gao Jun hurriedly took it, the smile on his face became even bigger, and he had already started to calculate in his mind. The total amount of this business was 124,600 US dollars.

Excluding the cost: a submachine gun of 30,000 US dollars and 100,000 rounds of ammunition, a total of 57,000 US dollars. In fact, this business only made 37,600 US dollars. According to the distribution, I can get 30%, which is 11,280 US dollars!

This is what Gao Jun can get.

The rest was divided between Paul and Edward.

It is impossible to say that I am not nervous or excited.

$11,280!

This number seems small, but you must know that at this time, the price of a used Mercedes-Benz car was only about 2,000-3,000 US dollars, and an annual income of 150,000 US dollars was considered a middle class.

In other words, one business transaction allowed Gao Jun to jump directly from a single salesperson to a "class" in one fell swoop.

Tmd, how much money do those big arms dealers make in a year!

Gao Jun suppressed his excitement, shook hands with Bart and left, already thinking about how to be cool.

Although Paul was also very excited, his brows looked very depressed.

"Gao, the weapons we sold to them just killed someone!" He said with a frown as he walked out of the factory.

"When we trade guns to them, it means more people will die."

"What's the point? It has nothing to do with us." Gao Jun said casually.

"They just killed a police officer. That's a Tijuana law enforcement uniform. I can tell."

Gao Jun frowned. Damn it, why didn't you realize that this guy has a tendency to be a bitch?

He moved his butt and said, "Listen, Paul, from 3600 BC to the 1980s, there were more than 14,500 wars in the world, of which only 292 were peaceful years. These wars killed about 3.5 billion people.

Death, even if we poop in the toilet, someone will die from a gun, it has nothing to do with us."

Gao Jun waved the US dollars in the alley, "You don't want the money anymore? Don't you think they are cute? What did you tell Tommen?"

He imitated the other person's tone, "I'm learning how to make money by mixing among the bastards!"

"Yes, we are bastards now. Don't tell me that you don't want to make money anymore?"

Paul looked struggling.

While he wants to make money, he doesn't want to cause killing.

Bitch Americans!

Gao Jun cursed in his heart, but still coaxed him in a coaxing tone, "None of us can choose our own life. God likes to see the joys and sorrows of the world, so he gave human beings the powerless weakness, but they struggle to live."

Going down is the best counterattack for life."

"We can't change the world."

Paul nodded slowly, "Maybe you are right."

Gao Jun smiled, "I donated 200 US dollars to the United Nations Charity Organization. This is our best kindness to the world."

My flesh hurts!

$200!

No, African guys, you have to fight hard, I want to make more money from you.

"We have money today, how about we go have some fun? Do you have anyone in mind? Brooke Shields? Carrie Fisher? Molly Ringwald? Or maybe I call them all over?"

Paul was amused by him, "Gao, we only made tens of thousands of dollars, not tens of millions!"

"So do you have a favorite Hollywood actress?"

"I like Katharine Turner, the one who played "Ghostbusters", "Emerald", "Passionate" and "Modern Godfather", you know?"

Gao Jun nodded, "Of course, but she seems to be almost 40, right?"

"36! I like bigger ones. You know, I only drank milk powder since I was a child. I want to try other flavors."

Gao Jun patted him on the shoulder.

"Then you have to make money quickly to keep up with her sagging speed."

Paul's curses immediately rang out from the heavy truck.
Chapter completed!