King Of War: Starting with Arms Dealer

Boykin's men didn't arrive on schedule, it took Joe Ga and his team three days of waiting in the jungle before a cargo ship, converted from an inland fishing boat, accompanied by three speedboats, slowly made their way to a relatively flat riverbank under the afterglow of the setting sun.

As the rainy season was over, the water level of the river had dropped considerably, and the cargo ship couldn't dock completely. It had to stop in the middle of the river. Then, a floating bridge was constructed using three rubber rafts, on top of which planks were laid for the people on the ship to transport materials.

A bald white man leapt off the ship as soon as the floating bridge was finished.

The drop between the cargo ship and the rubber rafts was only 1.5 meters, but the bald man didn't land securely. His arms flailed like windmills, trying to maintain balance, but he ultimately plunged headfirst into the muddy river water.

Watching, several black armed militants with rifles laughed, and the bald white man cursed loudly in the water before simply swimming to shore.

By the time two fully-armed mercenaries had crossed the floating bridge to reach him, the bald man had completely regained his composure. He made a threatening gesture towards the black men who mocked him, then said to the two bodyguards, "I hate this damn place. The smell inside the cargo ship makes me want to throw up."

A white mercenary with shiny hair and a big nose handed a clean set of clothes to the bald man, then said with a smile, "I think it's not bad. Boykin is a bit different from the usual anti-government leaders.

I had a pleasant time in his camp, the only pity was that he cooked a woman I liked, and it tasted terrible."

The bald man involuntarily gagged and then waved his hand, "Can we not talk about this damn thing?

That bastard tricked me into eating human flesh. If it weren't for Gold being more tempting, I should've stayed far away from that beast!

All these blacks are beasts; remember to remind me, once we've made enough money, we must hire someone to wipe them all out."

Another red-haired mercenary with the nickname Paul Scholes smiled broadly and said, "Once you've eaten it, you shouldn't be scared. But if you really want to kill Boykin, you can entrust the task to us.

500,000, under the table; we can find enough manpower to take down Boykin's camp.

That's a friendly price, but the spoils inside the camp must be ours!"

As he spoke, Paul Scholes eyed the black men being herded off the cargo ship like pigs and dogs. He licked his dry lips and said, "Actually, we could do it ourselves without sharing with Boykin.

The mine is almost ready, getting slaves isn't too hard; the jungle here is full of blacks.

Who knows if Boykin has been skimming off our harvest?

If we do it ourselves, we won't have to make trips to this godforsaken place every month, and all the Gold would be ours."

The bald man shot a glance at Paul Scholes and said mockingly, "And who's going to oversee the mine here, you? Or you?

Don't be foolish; we need Boykin, and Boykin equally needs me, but definitely not you lot."

"I pay you to ensure my safety, not to advise me on how to do business, and I'm sure as hell not planning to make you damn partners," he added. Seeing a hint of menace flash in the eyes of a mercenary nicknamed Big Nose, the bald man provocatively stepped forward and stared into his eyes, "Keep that damned look to yourself; I pay you guys 15,000 euros a month to protect me.

You're just a damned hired gun, and I've bought a significant amount of insurance from an international intermediary company's vengeance fund, so they've assured me.

If I die, not only will you be left with nothing, but you'll also face a gunman funded by a 1 million euro vengeance fund.

You see, that's the beauty of paying for insurance, otherwise why the hell do you think I dare to entrust you with my life?"

Big Nose tightened his grip on the FAMAS rifle in his hand and after a few seconds of locked gaze with the bald man, ultimately bowed his head.

There were many beasts among the mercenaries, and to gain a client's trust required additional guarantees, hence the "international intermediary companies" came into existence.

They acted both as intermediaries and as guarantors. When a novice was attempting to venture into dangerous areas and planned to use mercenaries for security, they could turn to these companies. Following their introduction, one could then sign contracts with the mercenaries.

The cost wasn't high; one only needed to buy into their funds, though the annual returns were almost nonexistent and the price of the mercenaries was higher than the market rate.

However, those mercenaries didn't care about what you were doing, and you could get safety guarantees. Moreover, as long as you lasted a year and your contract with the mercenaries ended, you could withdraw the money anytime.

It was essentially like placing a sum of money into the funds of an international intermediary company as insurance. If an employer died, investigators from the company around the globe would launch an inquiry.

If it was confirmed that the death of the employer was caused by mercenaries, that fund would automatically be activated.

Not only would the intermediary company seize the mercenaries' deposit and commission, but they would also exploit the revenge fund to its fullest.

100,000 could guarantee the execution of a mercenary; 1 million wouldn't just kill the mercenary but also their family members, and with more money, the range could expand even further.

This fully reflected the service philosophy of the international intermediary companies, "With money comes protection!"

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Of course, there's a commission for spending your revenge fund on your behalf.

This is just part of the business of international intermediary companies, but it's enough to attract many who are in need but worry about not being able to control the mercenaries.

The mercenaries collected by the international intermediary companies are usually those with a prickly nature who can't find work anywhere else and have a rather poor reputation.

The deposit and fund protection system, along with a professional investigation system for agents transitioning to civilian life, make these bastard mercenaries act like professional soldiers in most missions.

Of course, there are loopholes to be exploited however, these mercenaries who can't even find a decent team generally don't have the brains to deceive the investigators. Enough blood and death serve as a warning to most of these desperados.

The truly reputable professional mercenaries don't need to seek work through international intermediary companies.

But guys like Big Nose and Paul Scholes have no other choice; no one would mourn if they were buried along with their employer.

Of course, the revenge fund is only targeted at the contracting parties, restricting not just the mercenaries but also the employers, as the deposits paid by the mercenaries also act as a form of insurance.

In these high-risk projects, the income is not limited to the profits of the fund; the forfeited deposits, along with the employers' revenge funds, constitute a substantial revenue.

International intermediary companies have accumulated a huge fund through a niche project and a seemingly non-profit-driven yet actually exploitative model, creating a vast network that has made the profession of mercenaries accessible to ordinary people.

Mercenaries are merely weapons. Even if a mercenary is fierce and malicious, ordinary people with money can make use of them without worrying about backlash.

This is why Braune isn't afraid of Big Nose in the least!

Capital is eroding every corner of this world, and in the underworld, "rules", "reputation", and "camaraderie" are the last ramparts against it.

The day may come when none of these things exist, and you'd have to go through the capital for anything you do, or you'd have no security at all.

All capital needs to do is establish a reputable platform, attract users with seemingly cheap costs, and then rely on a bunch of college students to wield the power of this platform, turning terrifying mercenaries into tools.

In the eyes of the international intermediary company, those mercenaries who can't find work on their own are no different from delivery boys – they can face salary deductions for negative customer feedback.

Of course, there's no need to sympathize with mercenaries who are exploited by international intermediary companies.

There are many overt, legal, reputable, large PMC companies; as long as mercenaries are competent and don't have personality issues, they shouldn't find themselves without work in theory.

Unfortunately, Big Nose and Paul Scholes aren't that straightforward, so they have to endure Braune's spittle.

The debate between the three drew laughter from Boykin's men around them. Forty armed men with AKs herded sixty or seventy black men, who looked like pigs, off the boat and lined them up on the shore…

Then, an armed man with gold teeth and missing three fingers on his left hand inspected them. Apparently deeming the peaceful state of no one attempting escape as a negative, he pulled out a brand-new revolver as he reached the end of the line and shot a somewhat frail-looking middle-aged black man in the head.

The middle-aged black man's brain splattered on the face of another black man behind him, causing him to wet his pants immediately.

While the body of the middle-aged black man fell into the river and was gradually carried downstream by the current, the black man who had been splattered with brains squatted on the ground and let out a heart-wrenching wail, followed by the other captive black men starting to wipe away tears.

Experience new tales on empire

The gold-toothed man seemed satisfied with achieving his goal. He blew non-existent gun smoke from the barrel, flashed a grin at Braune, and said, "Mr. Braune, this is our style. You white folks can't do this.

Because you're afraid!

I've had my way with a few white women, and they always scream in fear in these situations. I like hearing them scream, haha…"

Braune rolled his eyes and showed the gold-toothed man his middle finger, saying, "Let's get going, make them carry the fuel and food. I want to get back to the ship before it gets totally dark.

I don't want to spend another minute in this godforsaken place. Hurry up and take the gold; I need to get back fast and have some chicks lick off this damned stench."

The gold-toothed man grinned, mimicked a courteous gesture seen on TV, put his hand on his chest, and bowed, saying, "Yes, my master. We will take these people through the process, teach them to obey orders.

But don't wet your pants later on, or I'll have to kill a few more to keep them scared for longer, hahaha…"

After hearing this, Braune cursed and said, "Whatever you're doing, make it quick, shit, this place reeks to hell."

As they drove a group of laborers loaded with goods into the jungle, 10 meters upstream on the pontoon bridge, a figure with jungle camouflage paint on his face emerged.

'Viper' from Sri Lanka watched the procession with cold eyes. Once they had all entered the jungle, he pressed his communicator and said, "The package has entered the jungle, 43 armed men, 65 captives."

Immediately after, Joe Ga's voice came through the channel…

"Keep the white Baldy alive; I want to gut the thief myself. Kill all the rest."

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