Zhu Wencong, accompanied by Su Yanqiao, followed Malik's pace and arrived at his convoy of horse-drawn carriages surrounded by crates of munitions.
Every carriage was loaded with such goods, and around them stood burly white men armed with guns, guarding the cargo.
The scars on their faces and bodies revealed that they were a group of veterans who had faced the battlefield and survived life and death situations.
One wouldn't know better than to assume they were some military unit on a secret mission here, with an attitude that screamed 'keep out.'
"You're sending me munitions? I'd rather pay for them, considering I need quite a lot, and don't need you to cover the costs.
Isn't that right? What's the meaning of these people?" Zhu Wencong said as he went to the back and saw a large group of people.
Their desolate expressions made it clear that their recent lives had been poor, and their once lofty status had been reduced to slavery.
