It seemed that the attitude of the buyers who originally stayed there towards Adam and the others had become increasingly intriguing.

One of them stood up and addressed the tribal chief, "This year's goods are good, and the pulp is very full. So according to the old rules, 30 percent of the quantity must be mine." A typical Mexican with a fierce beard declared, "There's not much time left before the ceremony begins. No more outsiders are coming. So what's the distribution method? Hurry up and give me an answer!"

When he said "outsider," his gaze deliberately swept toward Adam, his face full of provocation.

At this point, another group of buyers stood up, their tone equally unfriendly, "Thirty? Are you kidding? The market is extremely short on supply this year. If you take that much, what are the rest of us supposed to sell? And you want to buy at last year's price? Ha! You think the chief's new to this?"

Their words, filled with mockery, were clearly aimed at Adam. Though unfamiliar with the intricacies of this trade, he could sense the hostility woven into their words.

"Stop this noise," the tribal chief scolded. "Morning and night, you argue endlessly. Now there are guests, and still you shout. Can't you show some manners?"

Despite his worn-out tone, the chief's body told a different story—scars, thick calluses, and a commanding presence hinted at his hard life and strength.

After rebuking the others, he turned to Adam with a half-smile. "I'm sorry, strange guest from afar. These men love to brag. One minute they offer $500,000, the next it's $100,000. They bring us great amusement. But tell me—what is your purpose here?"

Adam frowned subtly. This mountain elder was more cunning than expected. Without directly addressing anything, he had already started posturing. But Adam had been invited here through No. 1—there was no need for veiled games.

"On the way here, I noticed your homes were roofed with banana leaves that neither shielded from rain nor sun. Some chimneys had birds nesting in them—clearly unused. And I saw children running through fields with bloated bellies, likely due to parasites. The situation doesn't seem promising."

The chief blinked, confused, unsure what Adam was trying to say.

"Do you look down on our land?" the chief asked, his tone darkening. "Or do you think this place is your playground for casual ridicule?"

Before Adam could respond, several muscular tribesmen stepped forward, machetes at their hips and murder in their eyes.

But Adam stood firm, his tone calm and steady.

"On the contrary, dear Chief, I've come to offer friendship. Outside your home, my caravan has brought building materials, life-essential salts, and medicines to treat disease. I hope these can be the foundation of a bridge between us."

The chief was momentarily stunned. After whispering with an aide who had gone to confirm the delivery, his expression changed. He stood up silently and walked out, leaving behind a tense room.

'Idiot!', Adam thought, watching him go, unaffected by the wary stares in the room.

With the chief gone, only a few idle villagers and curious onlookers remained. The atmosphere was awkward. Many glanced at Adam with a mixture of suspicion and disbelief.

"We're all insiders here," one buyer suddenly said. "With international bans tightening, this may be the last spot in the country to buy goods. So we can't afford to miss out on this batch. I'll give you $10,000—take it and head back. Be smart."

Adam smiled politely and shook his head. "If, as you say, shortages are getting worse, then prices will only climb. And $10,000? You give that to beggars, not businessmen."

His words lit a fuse. One hot-headed man stood and jabbed a finger in Adam's face.

"Fuck! Who do you think you are? We're being kind offering you money. Don't push your luck. You think you can compete with everyone here?"

"Oh?" Adam's tone was still cool. "Maybe I'm not as rich as you, or maybe I am. But if I were to step back and just help the tribe raise their price instead… what then? Suppose they were going to sell at $300,000, and I helped push it to $400,000? In a tightening market, that's worth a lot more than your tantrums."

He knew exactly what he was doing. It was a classic price-raising tactic—like the Brooklyn Nets under Billy King, jacking up the value of free agents just by making offers they never intended to follow through with. It destroyed budgets and messed up everyone else's plans.

But this wasn't the NBA. These men didn't play fair. Adam's words only fanned the flames.

"If you try that, we'll skin you alive!!" someone shouted.

Tempers exploded. Several men jumped to their feet, fists clenched, ready to pounce.

But before anyone could lunge, the man standing silently at Adam's side stepped forward.

Click.

Two pistols appeared in his hands, drawn in the blink of an eye, barrels aimed dead-on at the furious crowd.

Click.

Safety off. A crisp mechanical snap echoed through the tense air, louder than any shout. It was a warning.

No one moved.

Every man's guard and every hired thug froze. The speed of the draw had stunned them all.

There was only one man in this part of the world who could shut down a room with a single movement like that.

Deadshot.