Chapter 7

When Zhao Jian took out his pistol, Singh's eyes widened immediately.

To maintain colonial rule, the British deliberately kept the local tribes divided and weakened their military strength. The local tribal forces couldn't even guarantee that every man had an old flintlock musket, let alone heavy weapons. A well-made standard rifle was far more valuable to the local natives than diamonds, which had little practical use.

"By Allah, in Tanzania... no! In all of Africa, no one would refuse this!"

"Then come and be my guide. Afterward, I'll pay you a large sum of money and give you one as a keepsake."

"No problem! From now on, I, Singh, am at your service!"

"..."

Having successfully hired Singh as a guide, Zhao Jian and his group hired a team of mules and horses early the next morning to head inland. Thanks to the British diverting most of the hostility, their yellow skin did not attract much enmity locally. The caravan avoided most towns and mines with British garrisons, heading straight for a small tribe rumored to have diamonds.

Zhao Jian did not plan to sell all 500 rifles to a single tribe, as that would not maximize profits and could upset the regional balance. He intended to sell the guns to smaller tribes, enhancing their survival capabilities. These smaller tribes mostly wanted to protect themselves, so Zhao Jian didn't have to worry about the guns being used in a way that would attract British attention.

Under Singh's guidance, they first arrived at a small tribe called "Vahuraga," with a population of around 5,000, living in a small valley. This tribe, due to its adherence to primitive animism and refusal to convert to Christianity, was not favored by the British and was often bullied by medium-sized tribes. They lived in constant fear, hiding in the valley.

The caravan stopped not far from the valley entrance. Zhao Jian, holding a telescope, walked up a nearby hill and saw a 4-meter-high stone wall at the valley entrance, with a moat dug around it. Some black men, dressed only in shorts and flip-flops, armed with spears and homemade muskets, were on guard. After observing for a while, Zhao Jian returned to the caravan and instructed his men.

"Take out 50 rifles and 3 boxes of ammunition. Besides Singh, bring 4 more who know how to use guns."

"Master, are you going to go over there yourself?" Qin Heng asked with a worried expression.

"Don't worry, with the kid here, the other side will be less wary."

After everything was prepared, six people led two mules around the hill. The guards on the other side spotted them immediately, and Singh's loud voice in the local dialect could be heard from a distance.

"Chief! Don't shoot~!"

The guards quickly recognized the postman Singh, and Zhao Jian and his group smoothly reached the gate. A man who seemed to be the head of the guards examined Zhao Jian and his group for a moment, then turned to instruct a subordinate to report back.

Soon, several figures gathered behind the creaky gate, which then opened. A large group of black men rushed out, surrounding Zhao Jian and his group. The four bodyguards immediately protected Zhao Jian, placing their hands on their gun holsters.

"Singh, tell them we're here to do business and have something that will definitely interest their chief."

Despite his nervousness, Singh clearly repeated Zhao Jian's words. The head of the guards stepped forward and asked in heavily accented, broken English.

"What is it? Let us inspect it first."

"I've brought something good, specifically for your chief. There are too many people here; can we go inside to talk? Don't worry, we're only six and won't cause any trouble."

The head of the guards pondered for a moment and agreed to let Zhao Jian and his group in.

The six people were escorted into the gate by a large group of black men, attracting a crowd of onlookers along the way. Zhao Jian observed the people's clothing and appearance; while some elderly were emaciated, most were relatively well-nourished and wore shorts, indicating a relatively good economic situation.

"You, come in with me."

The head of the guards pointed at Zhao Jian, calling him to meet the chief alone. On the way, it was clear that this child was the leader of the group. Zhao Jian straightened his collar and asked.

"Can I bring a box of samples? And I want Singh to translate for me."

"I can speak English."

"Frankly, your English accent is terrible. Wasn't your teacher Indian?"

"Hey! How did you know?"

"..."

Singh and another black man carried the lightest box and followed Zhao Jian into the chief's two-story building. The first thing Zhao Jian saw in the main hall was a massive "mountain of flesh" that must have weighed over 200 kilograms. In a continent where malnutrition was common, only a tribal chief could have such a physique.

The "mountain of flesh" ... okay! I mean the chief, after Zhao Jian entered and knelt on one knee, slowly opened his eyes and mumbled something in a dreamy, indistinct local dialect. Singh immediately whispered the translation to Zhao Jian.

"The chief asks what you want to offer him."

"Tell him it's a sale, not a gift!"

It's unclear if Singh translated the word "老子" (lǎozi, a colloquial term for "I" or "me"), but after translating Zhao Jian's words to the chief, the chief clearly snorted and mumbled a few more words, this time with a clearly displeased tone.

"The chief says you are unreasonable and wants us to leave immediately."

"Already issuing an eviction notice? Hahahaha~!"

Originally intending to laugh boldly like Cao Cao, Zhao Jian found himself laughing in the style of "Jin Guan." He quickly composed himself, stood up, and loudly said in English.

"A small tribe that can only survive in a valley, picky about others' kindness, and even wanting to drive them away. Chief, if a British merchant were standing before you, would you dare to be so rude? And my country, the Tang Dynasty, is far more powerful than Britain!"

As Zhao Jian spoke, the black man, who had evolved from a "guard head" to a "sentry head," made a move to draw his sword. But the chief suddenly snorted, making him step back, then fully opened his eyes and looked at Zhao Jian with interest, speaking in relatively good English.

"But little boy, your Tang Dynasty doesn't have any influence in Africa, does it?"

"That's true! Our emperor doesn't value this wet and hot land and has his sights set on more distant places. In outer space, we have the best colonies, and unlike those Europeans, we don't eat beyond our means."

"Enough, boy. I'm not interested in how powerful your Tang Dynasty is. Let's get to the point. What do you want to sell? If I'm interested, I'll give you a good price."

The chief, touching the yellow diamond bracelet on his wrist, smiled slightly. But Zhao Jian only glanced at it, not showing the greed the chief expected.

Turning to open the wooden box, Zhao Jian pulled out a rifle from the oilcloth. This time, the sentry head didn't wait for the chief to snort; he immediately drew his sharp sword and placed it at Zhao Jian's neck. But Zhao Jian remained calm, holding the rifle with both hands and presenting it to the chief.

"This is what I've brought. Is the chief interested?"

In fact, Zhao Jian didn't need to ask; the chief's forward-leaning head and fixed gaze already spoke volumes. In Africa, weapons were as essential as food. Without food, one might die of hunger, and without weapons, one might die at the hands of the hungry.

Seeing the rifle's effect, Zhao Jian felt a small sense of satisfaction. He handed the rifle to the sentry head, who passed it to the chief. The chief played with the rifle for a while, then tossed it back to the sentry head, who skillfully pulled the bolt and loaded it, nodding in satisfaction.

"Good gun!"

"Want to test its accuracy?"

Zhao Jian took a rifle bullet from his pocket and, with the chief's permission, handed it to the sentry head. The sentry head loaded the bullet, aimed at a nearby mango tree from the window, and fired. The reddest fruit shattered with a crisp sound. The chief nodded and turned to Zhao Jian.

"How many do you want to sell? Name your price!"

"50 rifles, 3,000 rounds of ammunition. I want ten diamonds, about the size of those on your bracelet."

"Deal."

Without hesitation, the chief took off his diamond bracelet and threw it to Zhao Jian. Zhao Jian caught it, seeing that there were more than ten diamonds, and with a flawless business smile, he bowed to the chief.

"Thank you for your patronage."

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