"You said you want to work with us?"

Sf looked at Roy Brando, the leader of the caravan who had had many dealings with the tribe, and gently tapped the bone staff with his sharp nails: "Do you want to sell our pulp for the Shiyao clan?"

As he said that, he turned his gaze to Gal, Olkash and others. Under the scrutiny of the old leader, all the orcs lowered their heads and looked at their chests, as if they had leaked major secrets of the tribe.

"Please forgive me for taking the liberty, elder."

Roy bowed slightly. He had never talked face to face with the real leader of the Stone Crow clan before. When facing a spellcaster who might be a great wizard, anyone should respect him: "It's not their fault, your warriors are just too straightforward to see us suffer from curses."

He explained to the orcs who went to the Trulu Basin with him, hoping to win their favor.

"Sir Witcher, I have been feeling guilty since the last accident. To be honest, I have sympathized with you for your misfortune. I always hope to find a way to make up for my mistakes."

Roy wiped away the tears that did not exist and looked heartbroken: "But I am just an ordinary businessman. What can I do except praying to the gods day and night?"

"But today, I found a way to repay you."

His expression turned from sadness to excitement: "As long as you can hand over the pulp to my caravan for sale, I, Roy Brando, would swear with my honor that I will surely bring you a lot of wealth in the near future to improve the current situation of the Stone Clan."

The old leader did not answer the conversation.

In fact, it was not the wizard who spoke to Roy, but Caesar, who was far away in the lair of the mountaintop. Sff established a connection with the black dragon through the links of his mind, and then he relayed Caesar's words.

There was a moment of silence. During this period, Roy kept staring at the expression on the old orc's face, guessing his thoughts.

"It is impossible to give you the recipe. This is the secret passed down from ancient times by our Shichao clan." said the old orc.

"The secret of fart."

Roy complained in his heart that this damn orc clan has appeared in Mangye for two hundred years. God knows if you stolen the recipe you stole when you were a relative of a dragon, and you also talked about secrets with a shy face. It is even more hypocritical than humans.

He didn't expect that he would be so close to the truth by guessing casually.

Having said that, Roy also knew that the recipe for pulp from these orcs was not realistic and hope was quite slim, so he was not too entangled. He nodded slightly and said the lines: "I understand that I respect the customs and taboos of major clans very much."

"Although I am just an ordinary businessman, I still have many friends in northern countries. As long as you can hand over the finished product to me, I believe that through my hands, tons of food will come to the Shiyao clan in the near future."

Such a firm promise seemed to reassure the old orc Sfer. He responded and said, "How much does it take?"

How much is it?

Roy was stunned. "Sharing" is a very fashionable business model in the northern countries. It usually only appears in the economically developed southern and sea trade. In the relatively backward northern countries, merchants generally use the model of regular commissions for others.

He originally thought that once the Shiyao clan handed over the fruit pulp to him, there would be no such stupid orcs. The orcs had no idea about the situation on the market. He could hire a professional businessman to talk nonsense at will.

At that time, he can also directly embezzle the income. These dirty and low-minded orcs are only worthy of following behind and drinking some soup.

But unexpectedly, the word "dividing" popped up in the mouth of the orc who was short-sighted. The wisdom and solidity of this old guy were beyond imagination, which led to the idea that he had originally clarified was messy and needed to reconsider the plan.

Roy fell into a brief silence.

However, he was one of the heirs of the big family and he quickly clarified his clues.

"There is one thing that cannot be denied: the pulp is indeed brewed by orcs with hard work."

Soon, Roy became calculating and said tentatively: "But please let me remind you that the sales links from commodity transportation to northern countries are borne by me, and it is not easy to build commercial channels in various countries from scratch."

"So, I hope to divide it into three or seven, and the Shicao clan accounts for three. Do you agree with this?"

He finished his words in one breath, mixed with many obscure words that orcs could not understand at all. His purpose was to confuse the old wizard and thus to follow the flow of promises to his own conditions.

Unexpectedly, the old guy didn't care what he said at all, and immediately shook his head and refused: "No, 70% of the Shiyao clan."

"How is this possible!"

Roy seemed to be startled, with a frightened expression on his face: "Friend, please understand me. I am just a businessman. It is not easy to sell foreign things to the northern countries. The city guards and nobles in China are all vampires... I need at least 60%."

"70% of the Shizao clan and 30% of the human race."

The old orc was unmoved and insisted that he would never change it: "If you do not agree with this, you can completely cancel this cooperation."

At this time, it shows the role of Caesar's previous arrangement. If the Shicao clan takes the initiative to come to humans and asks to sell summer grass, they will definitely be suppressed by them. Even if the profit of summer grass is large, it will be exploited to the point of only a layer of skin.

As a result, he designed the caravan to discover the fruit pulp brewed by orcs "by coincidence", and then couldn't stand the temptation and spoke actively. When he had the request for the Stone Clan, humans were born to be at a disadvantage in negotiations and were firmly dominated by orcs.

No matter how clever Roy was, as long as Caesar didn't let go, he could do nothing.

In the end, Roy could not resist the huge interests of the summer grass and agreed to reach an agreement with the Shiyao clan that the tribe would provide the finished products of the summer grass and fruit pulp, and the caravan was responsible for selling them to the northern countries. The vested interests were divided into 46%, and the Shiyao clan accounted for 60%.

"So, let us jointly sign together under the testimony of the God of Truth."

The old orc's words made Roy's last glimmer of hope. He gritted his teeth. Considering that this was a business without capital, even if it only accounts for 40%, it would be better than having no income. So he reluctantly signed the name "Roy Brando" on the contract.
Chapter completed!