This Game Is Too Realistic

Due to planning needs, he stayed in the blue-coated people’s camp for one day. It was now the next afternoon, and just a few hours ago, he had lunch together at the invitation of the man.

He was very impressed by that lunch. The main course was steamed Crackleclaw Crab, and the side course was mushroom soup + shofar potatoes.

To be able to kill a Crackleclaw Crab, it seemed that the strength of this group was stronger than he had imagined. They were at least equipped with anti-armor firepower.

And the shofar potatoes were also sprinkled with soy sauce for flavor.

Well armed, and well supplied, Bloodhand Clan indeed provoked a terrible opponent, and it was understandable that they lost two teams in their hands!

Hein was a merchant, and merchants were very realistic people.

He would always be on the side of the victor... at least, the side with the highest possibility of victory.

In fact, when Chu Guang persuaded him, he could tell that the man didn't know the rules of the Horseshoe Firm very well.

Even if he performed well in front of the boss, it was impossible for him to stop living a dangerous life.

Although he was nominally a "salesman" of the firm, in fact, the nature of the salesman was closer to that of a partner.

They were active in the southern part of the River Valley Province, using the Horseshoe Firm relationship to do business, and then get a share of each transaction.

Hein made a rough calculation.

Even if two teams were lost, Bloodhand Clan still had fifty or sixty strong laborers. If he counted cannon fodder and prisoners, there would be nearly a hundred people.

If he could take even a third of them back, it would be enough to make him a legend to the Horseshoe Firm—to even the entire Red River Town.

Those who could still work could be sold to mine owners, and those who lacked arms and legs could be sent for organ harvesting and sold to Boulder City or other large survivor settlements in the northern part of the River Valley Province, with a profit of 1000%.

No matter how he thought about this business, it was a great deal.

As for whether these people in the blue coat could win?

To be honest, he never considered the possibility that they would lose.

These people could work diligently like cows and hunt as fiercely as wolves. They even ambushed him who had traveled to many places in the wasteland for many years.

Both tactically and strategically, they had amazing advantages.

And the leader of these people was an unfathomable man.

This group is really scary!

Hein's instinct told himself that if he had a good relationship with these people, he would definitely make a lot of money in the future. Maybe he would make more money than working in the firm!

...

After walking northward along the viaduct wreckage out of the city and bypassing several collapsed ruins, Hein soon saw the tire factory occupied by Bloodhand Clan.

The concrete outer walls were placed with spiked stakes and steel bars as obstacles, and the walls were smeared with unidentified and chilling graffiti painted with blood.

A headless corpse was abandoned in the drain on the side of the road and was being eaten by a few fat rats. It was probably another hapless slave who could not make the barbarians happy.

Hein smashed his lips and felt pity rise in his heart. Holding the wooden box in his hand, Hein kept walking towards the wooden gate.

"It's me, Hein, open the door!" The bandage on his leg had already been removed, the wound not bleeding anymore. Hein pretended to shout and waved to the guard on the wall.

Recognizing Hein's face, the man with a shaved head and scarlet paint on his face walked to the steel winch and stretched out his muscular arm to pull it.

Accompanied by the dull sound of moving chains, the wooden door slowly opened.

Hein didn't stop for a moment and quickly walked into the stronghold of Bloodhand Clan, led by a marauder sentry, to Bear's tent.

Putting the box on the ground, he pressed his forehead against the ground.

"Dear honorable leader! Those people are a bunch of barbarians. I'm sorry, I have tried my best, but I can't communicate with them at all."

Looking blankly at the man kneeling on the ground in front of him, Bear, who sat on the chair resting his chin on his fist with a lazy expression, spoke. "You didn't bring my people back."

"Yes... because there were no prisoners at all."

"No prisoners?"

Bear sat up straight, his small eyes—which were almost squeezed by the tight flesh on his face—becoming two small dots.

"You said there were no prisoners. What do you mean by that?"

He was very certain about the characters of his subordinates.

If they encountered those who were extremely vicious, they may fight to the death, but in a fight against the people in blue coats... even if they couldn’t win, there was no possibility of them having a bloody fight to the end.

20 chips for a prisoner was not a bad deal. After resting for a period of time, he would still be able to gather his men again.

As for those who lacked arms and legs, he could directly let the slave trader in front of him take care of them.

He even suspected that the man in front of him was lying, negotiating in his name, but actually sent the prisoners elsewhere.

Hein had a keen intuition.

Even if he couldn't see the expression on Bear's face, he could still guess what the muscular idiot was thinking, so he quickly assumed an expression of grief and anger, and said the words he had prepared.

"Those people are just a bunch of scumbags, rodents, maggots in blue coats! They have no humanity, justice, or morality in them at all. Every cell in their bodies is engraved with the word scheming."

"They pretended to accept the surrender of your subordinates, but after your men put down their weapons, they cruelly hanged your men at the door!"

With that, Hein opened the box in his hand, which contained finger bone necklaces.

Bear's eyes shrank to two points in an instant, and his right fist slammed on the arm of the chair.

"I'm going to chop off the limbs of these rodents and throw them into the dungeon to feed the cockroaches!"

The furious roar echoed in the camp, and the flames on the brazier swayed. The veteran marauders on the side clenched the knife and axe around their waists as their eyes grew colder.

As long as the leader gave an order, they would step forward and chop the person who had offended the leader into pieces.