I Have a Mansion in the Post-apocalyptic World Chapter 1567: Ritual of sacrifice and hunting

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For the port outside Mombasa, forty containers are located under the crane at the terminal.

Two black tribesmen carrying rifles stepped forward and dragged a plastic box of ammunition out of the open container. They savagely opened the outer lock with a rifle but looked at the orange-yellow bullet inside. There was a flash of joy in his eyes, and he whistled with cheers.

"Twenty boxes of military capital are here, what about our people?" Without looking at the two black men, Feng Yuan's eyes fixed on the Moorish Western messenger standing in front of him.

He noticed that when he saw the military assets of the forty containers in the port, a trace of obvious greed flashed on the messenger's face. This greed is not directed against these supplies, anyone standing here can feel it, this is directed against them.

A hostage can change a box of arms.

This sale is too profitable.

"Relax, the hostages are on the truck, I guarantee with the Tooth of the Gangfang tribe, everyone is safe." The burly Duaman coughed, opened his arms, and looked at the west of Moore. Messenger, "According to the agreement, you let go."

The messenger bowed respectfully, with a much more respectful attitude towards the chieftain than to these outsiders.

Soon, twenty-two messengers walked off the truck, because the NAC people paid the ransom fairly smoothly, and these people did not suffer any abuse.

Two of them were surviving personal guards. The injuries on his body were obviously not light, and they were wrapped in a bandage. Seeing Feng Yuan at the moment, the two of them were ashamed and looked down.

Seeing the injuries of the two men, the NAC soldiers standing behind flared with rage, staring into the eyes of the Moorish west messenger with killing intent. However, it was not known whether he was big-hearted or fearless. The messenger of the Moorish West lifted his chin slightly, and glanced at the soldiers with arrogant eyes.

Feng Yuan reached out and pressed down the muzzle that was almost lifted up next to him, 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. The shameful are those cowards who took a down payment but left their employers to escape. On our side, even the most despicable mutants disdain this It ’s a scumbag. You fight with your comrades at the last moment, even if you are outnumbered at the end, you are worthy of the glory of you. "

In this sentence, Feng Yuan did not control the volume, but the expression on the chief's face was not very good-looking. After all, the tribe escorting the NAC transport team was introduced to Feng Yuan by him. Moore Xiluo is one of the most courageous tribes of his men. It is normal for that mercenary to dare not fight them.

But seeing the twenty containers that belonged to him, the great chief emptied his dissatisfaction with this sentence and pretended not to hear the rude word.

It was the messenger of Morsi who was very direct, said nothing, gestured contemptuously, and then took two followers and turned and left the port.

In their tribe, that gesture means a coward.

"You should not pay the ransom." After all, short-handed and soft-mouthed, the native shaman Lu Sangbo shook his head and reminded Feng Yuan in good faith, "Did you see the expression on the chief's face? He Dole has blossomed. Just acting as an intermediary for the hostage handover, you have earned twenty boxes of military money, which is more profitable than slave trading ... "

There is another sentence Lu Sangbo did not say.

If the Gangya tribe used to be dissatisfied with the vassals in the territory attacking the development zone, from now on, I am afraid that the chieftain would not like his vassals to rob these Asian settlements and then become intermediaries. Make a fortune.

"The employees of future development are not slaves. Moreover, they will soon pay for their stupidity." Feng Yuan smiled coldly, staring closely at the back of Moore's west. The last sentence was spoken.

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

......

"Cheers for the mother of Morsi!"

"Oh oh!"

The bonfire popped out of Martian seeds, and the tribesmen around the bonfire struck the drums of joy, dancing a strange and mysterious dance 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 totems, the rhythm of dancing and drumming.

The sorcerer chanted the spell, like rapping rap, reaching for a handful of powder in the boneware and throwing it in the campfire. In a group of people screaming and cheering, the flame banged crisply and exploded the green flame.

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

The villages in the west of Moore are very large, and the buildings are mostly tents. This is to adapt to the safari life on the prairie. As the herds move and the surrounding fruits deplete, they will continue to migrate. However, primitive does not mean that they are absolutely backward. Like many survivors in the surrounding areas of Wanghai City, they will use modern weapons, and they will not be unfamiliar with some high-tech only in Mombasa.

Two tribal soldiers carrying rifles brought two slaves tied to their hands and feet. The two have light skin and swollen muscles. One person is probably a Central European, and the other is a Slav. In this era, the relationship between the two can almost be described by blood feud.

"Knife."

Rawly speaking in French, the black soldiers gave each of them a knife, and then released their shackles. The rest of the tribesmen circled around the two, screaming weird words in excitement.

With two growls, the two slaves threw up, and both sides saw despair from each other's pupils.

No one can survive.

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

This is to celebrate the harvest of hunting and pray for the next hunting. The containers filled with ammunition were placed not far from the totem poles, before the "gifts" given to them by the Moorish ancestors were taken apart.

In order to offer sacrifices to the ancestors and to receive the ancestors' blessings, at this moment, every Morsi will be present.

Finally, the duel is divided, and the knife of the Central Europeans has been knocked out. The Slavs pressed him under him, and the knife in his hand pierced his throat.

"We are dead, we are dead," the despair swayed in the pupils, and the Central Europeans grabbed the blade with both hands, watching the blood dripping drop by drop, panting, speaking in a hoarse voice , "They will let go of your blood first, then dig out your heart in front of your face, on which altar ..."

At this moment, there seemed to be sounds in the air.

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

"Hush, listen carefully, that is the voice of the ancestor, he is teaching us."

Someone said that.

Two thousand meters above sea level, two Aurora-20 cruised in high altitude one after another.

"This is Hunter-1, the signal source is detected ..."