The black van rattled along the empty Langfang industrial road at 2:17 a.m. Headlights cut through thick fog. Old Huang sat upright in the passenger seat, ears forward, occasionally emitting a low warning growl at passing shadows.
Old Ghost waited alone beside the rusted warehouse door — mid-fifties, deep scar across his left cheek, cigarette glowing like a tiny ember in the dark.
"You're younger than your money suggests," the man rasped, exhaling smoke.
"Money doesn't age," Li Wei replied evenly. He unzipped the duffel just enough to reveal neat stacks of red notes. "Twenty Type 03 suppressed rifles, fifty thousand rounds of 5.8mm, twenty fragmentation grenades, ten sets of Level IV ceramic plates with helmets. 12.8 million RMB. Cash, as agreed."
Old Ghost studied him for several seconds, then jerked his head toward the interior.
Two silent helpers wheeled out four heavy wooden crates marked with faded export stickers. Li Wei inspected each item methodically: serial numbers matched, barrels clean, magazines springy, grenades fuses intact. Satisfied, he began handing over banded stacks.
The final note left his fingers.
[Ding! Expenditure detected: 12,800,000 RMB]
[Cashback triggered! +1,280,000,000 RMB deposited to anonymous account #3]
Old Ghost's eyes narrowed at Li Wei's complete lack of reaction.
"Most men tremble handing over that much cash. You didn't even blink."
"Normal men die screaming in five years," Li Wei said quietly. "I stopped being normal a long time ago."
He loaded the last crate himself. His shoulders and arms — strengthened by months of brutal daily training — handled the weight without strain.
Back at the villa compound before dawn, Li Wei spent three hours organizing the new armory. Rifles racked in rows, ammunition sorted by lot and caliber, grenades locked in blast-resistant cabinets. Old Huang circled the room once, sniffed every corner approvingly, then lay down directly in front of the door like a living sentinel.
While wiping down a rifle barrel with slow, meditative strokes, his phone vibrated — encrypted PI update.
"Li Jian Guo lost 2.3 million RMB at underground tables last week. Li Na posted photos of a new Hermès Birkin bag on WeChat Moments two days ago — already deleted. Zhang Mei called her cousin in Henan asking to borrow 500,000 RMB 'for an emergency.'"
Li Wei's lips curved into a thin, cold smile.
They were devouring the 100 million faster than even he had predicted.
Excellent.
Let the hunger begin.