At the port outside Mombasa, forty containers are located under cranes at the dock.

Two black tribes carrying rifles stepped forward, dragged out a plastic box of ammunition from the open container, and savagely smashed the outer lock with the buttstock. Looking at the orange and yellow bullets inside, a hint of joy flashed through her eyes like mung beans, and she whistled happily.

"Twenty boxes of military funds are here, where are our people?" Without looking at the two black men, Feng Yuan stared at the Moorsi tribe messenger standing in front of him.

He noticed that when he saw the forty containers of military funds at the port, a clear greed flashed across the envoy's face. This greed was not aimed at these materials, but anyone standing here could feel it was aimed at these people.

A hostage can be exchanged for a box of arms.

This deal is really profitable.

"Don't worry, the hostages are all in the truck. I guaranteed the totem of the Steel-Tome Tribe that everyone is safe and sound." The burly Du Aman coughed, spread his arms and looked at the messenger of the Moorsi Tribe, "According to the agreement, you will release people."

The messenger bent down respectfully, and his attitude towards the great chief was obviously much more respectful to these outsiders.

Soon, twenty-two messengers walked off the truck, because the NAC people were quite ready to pay the ransom, and these people had not been abused.

Two of them were surviving private guards, and their injuries were obviously not light, and they were wrapped in bandages. At this moment, they looked ashamed on their faces and couldn't help but lower their heads.

Seeing the injuries of these two people, the NAC soldiers standing behind were angry and glared at the Moorsi tribe envoy with murderous intent in their eyes. However, whether they were too big or fearless, the Moorsi tribe envoy raised his chin slightly and glanced at the soldiers with a arrogant look.

Feng Yuan reached out and pressed down the muzzle that was almost raised, shook his head at the soldier, then greeted the medical staff, and walked towards the two wounded soldiers.

"Please raise your head, you have nothing to be ashamed of. What should be ashamed of are the cowards who have taken the deposit but left their employer behind to escape. On our side, even the most despicable mutants don't want to join in this scum. You fight with your comrades to the last moment, and even if you end up being outnumbered, you will be ashamed of your glory."

Feng Yuan did not control the volume of this sentence, but the expression on the face of the chief was not very good. After all, the tribe that escorted the NAC transport team was introduced to Feng Yuan. The Moorxi tribe is one of the most brave vassal tribes under his command, so it is normal that the mercenary did not dare to fight with them.

However, seeing the twenty containers of his own, the chief lost his dissatisfaction with this sentence and pretended not to hear the rude words.

However, the envoy of Morsey was very direct and said nothing. He gestured with contempt, and then turned around and left the port with two followers.

In their tribe, that gesture means cowards.

"You shouldn't pay the ransom." After all, they were short and sucked by people. The native wizard Lu Sangbo shook his head and reminded Feng Yuan kindly, "Did you see the expression on the face of the chief? He was so happy. He just acted as a middleman for the hostage handover and earned twenty boxes of military funds, which was even more profitable than slave trading..."

There is another sentence Lusangbo didn't say.

If the Steel-Take tribe had been dissatisfied with the vassals in the territory attacking the development zone, from now on, I am afraid that this great chief would like his vassals to rob the settlements of these Asians and then be an intermediary to make a fortune from it.

"The employees who develop in the future are not slaves. Moreover, they will soon pay the price for their stupidity." Feng Yuan smiled coldly, stared at the Moorsey tribe's back as he left, and said the last sentence word by word.

Soon, they will realize that this ransom is not so easy to get...

...

"Cheers to Mother Mother!"

"Oh oh oh!"

Mars popped up in the bonfire, and the tribes around the bonfire beating joyful drum beats and dancing weird and mysterious dances around the bonfire.

On this continent, the culture of each tribe is different. Except for the common totem worship and ancestor worship, all cultural differences are reflected in the appearance of totem, the rhythm of dance and drum beats.

The wizard recited a spell, like rap, reached out and grabbed a handful of powder in the bone vessel, and threw it into the bonfire. As the group of people screamed and cheered, the flames burst with a crisp sound, and the green flames exploded.

If you want to describe people living here in one sentence, it is to be behind the advanced coexistence.

The villages of the Moorsi tribe are large, and most of the buildings are tents. This is to adapt to the safari life on the prairie. As the deer moves and the fruits around them dry up, they will continue to migrate. However, primitive does not mean that they are absolutely backward. Like many survivor settlements in the surrounding areas of Wanghai City, they will use modern weapons and are not unfamiliar with some high-tech that only Mombasa has.

Two tribal soldiers carrying rifles led two slaves tied with hands and feet. Their skin was light and their muscles were swelling. One was probably a Central European and the other was a Slav. In this era, blood feud could almost be used to describe the relationship between the two.

"knife."

Speaking rudely in French, the black soldiers gave the two a knife each and then released the shackles on their bodies. The rest of the tribes surrounded the two, shouting strange words excitedly.

With two low growls, the two slaves pounced on them, and both sides saw despair in each other's pupils.

No one can survive.

The weak will be killed, and the strong will be used for sacrifice.

This is to celebrate the hunting harvest and to pray for the next hunt. The containers filled with ammunition were placed not far from the totem pole, before dismantling these "gifts" given to them by the ancestors of Morsey.

In order to offer sacrifices to ancestors and to obtain blessings from ancestors, every Morsey will be present at this moment.

Finally, the duel was decided, and the Central European knife had been knocked away. The Slavs pressed him under him, and the knife in his hand stabbed him in his throat.

"We are dead, all are dead," the pupils swayed with despair. The Central European grabbed the blade with both hands, watching the blood drop by drop, gasping, and said in a hoarse voice, "They will release your blood first, and then dig out your heart in front of you, and put it on which altar..."

At this moment, there seemed to be a burst of noises in the air.

Of course, the two people surrounded by thousands of tribes could not hear the sound, but many people standing outside the crowd raised their heads and looked at the dark night sky.

"Shh, listen carefully, that is the voice of the ancestors, who is teaching us."

Someone said so.

Above a height of two thousand meters, two aurora-20, one in front and one behind, cruised high in the air.

"This is Hunter-1, the signal source was detected..."
Chapter completed!