Road to becoming the wealthiest: Starting From Treasure Hunting in the Cabinets
Chapter 975 - 537: What the Hell is This Thing?_2

Chapter 975: Chapter 537: What the Hell is This Thing?_2

"Mr. Hassan, what you’re talking about is ancient history! The situation now is that you’ve brought so much stuff, if you don’t sell it cheaply to everyone, I’m afraid no one will be able to stomach it!

You wouldn’t want to return home with unsold goods, would you?"

"Exactly, exactly, if we don’t buy, you definitely won’t be able to sell these things!" someone piped up in agreement.

"Mr. Hassan, we few control sixty percent of the market share here! If we don’t buy, you won’t possibly be able to sell..."

"Threatening me?" Mr. Hassan chuckled coldly. "Ferguson, you a hyena picking up scraps behind the Lion also have the nerve to threaten me? Let me tell you, today our tribe’s goods, we’re not selling to you——even if we haul it all back, I won’t sell!"

After finishing his speech, he paid no further attention to these people, pulled out a fully charged loudspeaker from the car, and started shouting:

"Come take a look, everyone! Brand-new rifles, brand-new American food packages, full sets of tools, all just like they’ve come straight out of the factory, selling cheap! Come take a look, there won’t be any left if you’re late!

Come on, everyone..."

The sudden loudspeaker noise directly attracted the attention of everyone else in the marketplace.

At the sound of Hassan’s shouting, many people quickly ran towards Hassan’s pickup truck.

They immediately pushed aside those few who were complaining but not buying.

In the face of survival, what are these people? Nothing!

Once the market disperses, who cares about anyone else?

Mr. Hassan looked smugly at the few people who had been awkwardly shoved aside, then lifted the loudspeaker once again and shouted loudly:

"No pushing! Whoever dares to push, I’ll shoot! Line up, look at the cards, queue up in front of the card for the item you want! The price for the barter is on the card, no haggling!"

The mountain people who had come with the tribe had already set up cards, marked with the local language displaying the prices for exchanging various items.

Of course, they also accepted barter, usually for food, gemstone ore, and similar local produce.

Someone brought over some black Soil, but was driven away by Mr. Hassan’s people:

"We don’t take this harmful crap!"

The most popular items were weapons, food, and tools. Watching these items being sold or bartered one by one, those few who had threatened Hassan earlier got anxious. They scattered like birds and beasts and quickly joined the crowd fighting to buy, hoping to secure necessities before everything was gone.

Seeing Mr. Hassan’s business booming, Sean Knight smiled and, with his face covered by a headscarf along with Elijah Hastings, left the area and started wandering through the marketplace.

As Mr. Hassan had said, there were indeed a lot of things here, all kinds.

Some had simply spread a cloth on the ground and placed a couple of old AK rifles on it, setting up a stall.

Others didn’t even have rifles; they just laid a few clips and a couple of hand grenades on an old piece of felt to make a stall.

There were also stalls with a stack of pies next to half a bag of food.

And some were even selling a few sheep they’d brought along.

Most of the stallholders here didn’t bother to hawk their wares; they just waited to see if anyone would come by and purchase something.

With Mr. Hassan using a loudspeaker to hawk his wares, it’s no wonder that he attracted so many people.

The deeper one went, the more bizarre the items one saw.

James Ross even spotted a stall where a chubby man, wrapped in a headscarf and a face scarf sat, with a row of girls ages ranging from about twelve to eighteen seated beside him.

The girls, also covered with headscarves and face scarves, had expressions of confusion, shame, fear, or curiosity.

There was nothing in front of them.

It took Sean a moment to realize, this chubby man was most likely trying to sell these girls.

This kind of business could be done here too?

Seeing Sean pause, the chubby man quickly stood up and greeted them eagerly.

However, he was immediately stopped by Zack Watson, the tribe’s translator that Hassan had provided for James and his group. Zack, holding a gun, said a series of words, and after giving Sean a look, the chubby man sullenly sat back down.

He was still somewhat unwilling, and after sitting back down, he kept making forceful eye gestures towards Sean and his group.

A few steps later, Zack explained:

"This fatty is called Victor Johnson. Even before the Americans came, he was in the flesh trade.

Everyone looks down on him! The people he brings are most likely girls whose families were killed by the Americans during the war, left with no home to go to.

Don’t be deceived by their young age; some of them have already been in the flesh trade for a few years.

They are sick!"

Sean shook his head and continued walking.

He had thought Zack objected due to religious doctrine, but it turned out Zack was worried about him catching a disease.

One stall caught his attention. The items being sold at the stall seemed familiar to Sean: plastic toy cars with packing boxes, toy guns, and various stuffed animal plush toys.

These items frequently appeared in some domestic night markets!

It was unexpected that someone would extend their business here!

And indeed, there was a fair crowd gathered around this stall.

But Sean could instantly tell that the quality of these items was poor, the craftsmanship rough. For instance, the plush toys had threads that weren’t trimmed and would easily come undone with a squeeze or a knock, revealing the stuffing inside.

And those hard, jagged plastic toys seemed to be made from substandard materials, likely to break with a little force.