The Memoirs of Cultivating Immortals

Chapter 384 Crowe
Off the coast of Africa, ship breaking yards.

At this time, the tide was falling, and dozens of dilapidated ships were moored on the dry shore. The red light from the setting sun shrouded the ships, making them look like dying titans in fairy tales.

Most of these ships are freighters, which have been in disrepair for a long time and cannot find a next home to receive them, so they have to face the fate of being dismantled.

Of course, among these ships, one was special.

The Churchill, a giant freighter belonging to the United Kingdom, once had an extremely glorious history. It once carried steel through the Red Sea Strait, and crossed the coast of the Cape of Good Hope with a full load of oil barrels. decades of vicissitudes.

And now, even though it is old and moored on the ship breaking yard, the Churchill is still full of vitality.

Hundreds of black employees in dirty shirts were standing inside the not-so-spacious ship, busy working.

They either use mechanical cranes or go shirtless to carry rows of short-range missiles, military radar components, automatic rifles, grenades, and individual rocket launchers, and seal them into wooden boxes and rivets on the outside of the boxes. Put them together in the container.

These containers containing military items will be sent to all over the world, from the self-respecting guerrilla organizations in South Asia, to drug lords in South America, from warlords in African melee areas, to mafia in Europe, all over the world. There are arms buyers all over the place.

The strong smell of sweat was fermenting inside the Churchill ship. Under the dim light, those sweaty African employees almost blended with the environment. Can't see people and cause production accidents.

Hundreds of thousands, millions, tens of millions, and even hundreds of millions of dollars worth of munitions flowed from the Churchill ship to all parts of the world, but these were not even the most valuable wealth on the Churchill freighter.

On the second floor of the Churchill, in the safe surrounded by the super-giant vault door, there are some metals.

Vibrating gold, also known as sound-absorbing steel and nirvana steel, is one of the rarest and most special metal materials on earth.

The reason why it is special is that the special molecular structure of vibration gold makes it have unparalleled solid properties, and it can also directly absorb heat energy and kinetic energy and store them in the metal structure.

Not only that, the vibrating gold that has absorbed energy is like a fully charged spring that can bounce back energy at any time - Captain America's shield is doped with a small amount of vibrating gold during the casting process.

These particularities make Zhenjin an ideal special metal, which has been flocked to by various organizations, and has also commanded sky-high prices on the black market.

And its scarcity is due to the fact that the annual production of Zhenjin is very small. Even a giant state machine of the Wuchang level can only be used for small-scale research by top laboratories, and it is impossible to use Zhenjin for weapons. Produce.

The demand for vibration gold produces huge economic benefits, and huge economic benefits, like fresh meat with blood, can always attract those fortune hounds who write "adventurers" and read "mercenaries".

Ulysses Crow is such a mercenary. Rather than saying that he is a fortune hound, it is more appropriate to call him a "hyena".

In the face of excessive greed for wealth, brutality and tyranny in the face of the weak, and timidity and humility in the face of the strong, the blood called "crazy" is rolling in his veins.

For Ulysses Crowe, the tropical rainforest where bloodthirsty flies fly endlessly and anacondas and crocodiles lurk in the dark is better than the presidential suite of the Hilton Hotel; the primitive wilderness where lions and cheetahs roam leisurely and giant elephants and wildebeests gather in groups , better than the most expensive strip club in New York City.

He is the owner of the Churchill, the owner of the vibration gold in the vault.

"Arms dealers supported by world powers, independent warlords in remote and backward areas, and ambitious multinational security companies all like to cooperate with me. Do you know why?"

Ulysses Crow was sitting in a narrow workshop, holding a sharp Swiss Army knife, carving a wood carving in his hand, and at the same time resting his feet in dirty military boots on the desk lazily, Talking to an Einstein doll with a big head on the table.

He was a middle-aged man who wasn't tall and mighty. Compared with the big and three thick mercenaries under him, Ulysses was shorter and thinner.

He has a square face full of flesh, gray-black beard with a light layer, untidy yellowed teeth, dirty shirt, and old and hideous scars on his forehead and cheeks. Especially annoying.

"Tell me, do you know why?"

Ulysses pointed the blade of a Swiss Army knife at Einstein's big-headed doll, which continued to shake its head unconsciously, making regular clicking noises.

The working room is filled with an inexplicable strange smell, mixed with oil, sweat, and body odor. With the dull air and high temperature, the whole working room is like a football player's greasy wet socks that have not been washed for three days.

"Because I am a qualified businessman, whoever bids the most, I will serve him. It is fair, just, open, innocent and affordable."

Ulysses was talking to himself, and suddenly pressed the half-carved humanoid statue on the table, bounced up from behind the desk, and took out a pistol from under his buttocks at an extremely fast speed. The door of the workshop was approved.

The clock was ticking, ticking, ticking, and Ulysses moved back very slowly, trying to see the situation outside through the crack of the door with peripheral vision from the corner of his eye.

Thanks to the extremely thin thickness of the bulletproof glass in the workshop, Ulysses can hear the outside noise.

The noisy African dialect, the muddy and weird English, and the loud yelling all explained to Ulysses that everything inside the Churchill was normal.

"Something's wrong."

The mercenary scratched the back of his neck, his slightly flat eyeballs were rolling around, and his dirty shirt was soaked with sweat.

The fear of the unknown gripped his heart—and this made him even more excited.

squeak
The door of the workshop suddenly opened, and Ulysses subconsciously pointed his gun down, and fired several shots at the door frame—no matter who was standing outside the door, the other party should be kneeling on the ground at this time, hugging the person who was shot. The worn kneecap screamed.

However, there was no scream in the ear, and the bullets that passed through the door panel seemed to be missing, leaving only three black holes.

"It's not a good habit to shoot as soon as you meet, Mr. Crowe."

Orolo Monroe, a female African-American mutant codenamed "Storm" who once belonged to the X-Men, was standing outside the door of the workshop. Before the bullets shot by Ulysses touched her body, she It was twisted into pieces by the ubiquitous thunder net, and fell on the iron floor, making a crisp clanging sound.

"My boss wants to see you." Storm looked at Ulysses slowly and expressionlessly. The stench of the mercenary in front of her made her frown. Spray some perfume on yourself."

"Your boss" Ulysses narrowed his eyes all of a sudden.

(End of this chapter)