Chapter 126
Chapter 126
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 126
Chapter Title: Great Escape (1)
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A fake promise with no intention of keeping it. And a fake blank check with no intention of cashing it.
This insane deal, straight out of some shady secondhand trading platform, was sealed over a lavish drinking session.
“I should’ve come to see you sooner, Secretary Pu. No point stewing in narrow little Korea…”
“Ha ha. Better late than never. Here, down this shot. All the way.”
A crudely drawn mask with a smiley face. Looked like the kind meant for a backstab.
Even as we both tossed back this potent baijiu, Secretary Pu and I were sizing each other up, probing for the perfect moment to betray.
Of course, I’d already betrayed him from the start, in the form of that advance payment.
“Yeah, sure. Public Security Director. It’s me, Secretary Pu. Pull back all the siege forces and get the men out now.”
He cradled the blank check—stuffed with eight-figure promises—like a sacred relic.
Afraid even a breeze might snatch it away, he clutched it tight and made his first move: calling the local public security chief to hand over the advance.
“Pull them if I say pull! What’s with all the backtalk? You think you can defy orders from above? I’ll take the heat—just lift the siege, now!”
Was this showmanship for his “customer”? The secretary even staged a tirade at the director.
Blinded by riches, seeing the world in stacks of eights, he had no clue what he’d just done.
“Oh, Chairman Han. As you saw, I kept my end. So… when’s that deposit coming?”
Secretary Pu rubbed his palms together. I smirked, checking my watch instead of answering.
Nine PM already. Right on schedule, the bundle traders wouldn’t hit the factory till three AM.
So my job? Keep this fat old bastard tied down till then.
Drunk enough that every drop of blood reeked of booze, out cold.
“We at Ammunition Group have a rep back home for being the flashiest in corporate image.”
Thud. I slammed a fresh bottle on the table.
Cue for Uncle Kim Won-cheol and Aide Yoo Se-na to loosen their belts and drain their glasses.
From here on, we’d pickle this old timer till sunrise. In the kind of hospitality booze he loved so much.
“Let’s get wild tonight. By morning, the first news from your underlings will be about that deposit hitting.”
* * * *
A luxury hotel just outside central Beijing. James Wang, director at Ammunition, woke to the sunrise and the chirps of nameless mountain birds.
He smeared white shaving cream over his square jaw, then pressed his trusty straight razor to his face.
“Sharp as ever.”
Scrape, scrape—the familiar sting of the cream as whiskers fell away.
Staring at the highway-straight path down his face, James Wang grinned in satisfaction.
“No nicks, clean as can be. Ammunition Group. That punk Han Seo-jun.”
He rinsed the whiskers down the sink, washed away the emotional scruff with cold water, and strode out.
Light steps. A far cry from his usual Beijing visits—fueled by confidence in his Fuzhou triumph.
At Zhongnanhai, the heart of central power near the Forbidden City, he glanced at his reflection in the glass and muttered.
“If the semiconductor investment on this great mainland goes up in smoke, he won’t be able to focus solely on the Kra Canal.”
Not just the numbers. Ammunition Electronics’ cutting-edge tech in those precision machines would end up with a CCP state-owned giant.
Emboldened, James Wang clenched his fist.
If it went as planned… the old powerbroker at Zhongnanhai’s core would back him fully. A taste of raw favoritism he’d never known.
“Minister Zhang.”
“Chin up. No need to grovel.”
Beijing’s old monster was in high spirits today.
After a quick report on Fuzhou, he set down his long-stemmed pipe amid curling smoke.
“Your room to maneuver’s widened.”
“So it has, sir.”
“Perfect timing. Don’t waste it. So, while Ammunition stumbles, you’ll toss a stone down south?”
“Bringing in outside Islamist extremists seems wisest.”
The elder wore the look of a master playing invisible chess.
His eyes gleamed through the hazy, irritating smoke.
“Strike while the iron’s hot. No way those puny eastern honey states will embarrass us again.”
“I won’t disappoint you, Minister.”
“Enough. Handle the accounting. Hm?”
Minister Zhang turned. A nervous attendant hovered by the door, peering in.
He beckoned the boy.
“What is it?”
“Minister, call from the Fuzhou Party Secretary.”
“A mere city-level secretary?”
The direct line irked him—levels mismatched. The attendant bowed, catching the sour mood.
“It’s urgent, so he called straight through. Forgive the breach.”
“Fine. Hand me the phone.”
Zhang snatched it like prey.
James Wang’s spine prickled with an indescribable chill. A gut punch.
That ironclad schedule. One cog in the center grinding to a halt.
‘Fuzhou Party Secretary…? What the hell’s going on for him to ring Minister Zhang direct?’
Oblivious to his panic, the elder answered calmly.
“You wanted me? What’s this about?”
Tick-tock—the clock hands marched, and so did Zhang’s expression.
Narrow eyes bulged round. Bloodless white cheeks flushed wild.
“What! You saying that’s real?!”
Unable to contain his rage, Beijing’s monster bellowed.
‘Going mad. What’s unfolding?’
James Wang met the minister’s fury head-on.
The old man’s jutting lower lip looked ready to unleash a torrent of curses.
And that’s when James Wang knew—his jacket pocket buzzed with a text.
-My lord, Ammunition’s Fuzhou semiconductor plant is empty. Tracing logistics suggests…
“Ambushed…!”
Arm hairs stood on end as blood surged to his brain like a tsunami.
Trembling, he scrolled down. There—the dagger through his plan’s gap.
-Bundle traders smuggled it to Hong Kong, we suspect. Awaiting orders.
* * * *
Just past 3 AM.
I slipped from the booze-soaked scene—everyone koala-drunk—using a bathroom break as cover.
Inside, the forced revelry had peaked.
“Sticks! Sticks! This really sticks! Splash!”
God knows where Uncle Kim learned it, but he slapped salmon sashimi on his gleaming forehead to amp the mood.
That broke the ice, loosening even Secretary Pu’s tension.
He’d eyed Aide Yoo Se-na sidelong since we met. Now he slid next to her, making his moves.
“Ahem, miss… any secrets? Got a boyfriend?”
“…Not seeing anyone right now.”
She slammed a fist under the table, etching ‘endure’ thrice on her heart.
‘Looks just like my wife in her young days.’
‘…….’
“Ah, ‘gone’ doesn’t mean dead—just divorced. You’re my type, miss. Ha ha ha.”
She bit her lip, eyes steady—not lost, fixed on me the whole time. That was the issue.
“Marry her! (Clap!) Marry her! (Clap!) Hope it works out!”
Uncle Kim whooped and clapped like it was hilarious.
In this sacrificial feast with Aide Yoo Se-na as the lamb, Secretary Pu crashed first.
Half-mad, proposing to her, eyes long unfocused.
“Secretary, Secretary.”
“Uh… Aide Yoo Se-na? Love you.”
“No, it’s Han Seo-jun, Chairman. Heading to the bathroom.”
“Uh, yeah. Hurry back. Grab me ice cream… Love you, Aide Yoo Se-na.”
Promised melon ice cream on return, then bolted. Joined security and headed to the plant.
Could’ve left it to the bundle traders, but a chat with President Michelle changed that.
“Can’t fully trust their side, Chairman.”
We’d dismantled to the screws, but reassembled, these precision machines oozed tech.
Needed an overseer.
Uncle Kim or Michelle could handle it… but I wanted to fire this opening shot myself.
Past [Shanghai Capital]. The signal flare against the CCP itself.
“Bundle traders arriving soon, Chairman,” reported the security chief.
Guards around the packaged gear packed heat—pistols at least.
As if proving the need, a click of the light switch and a low mutter.
“Those goods? No biggie if we divert ’em from Hong Kong.”
“Yeah, who’d notice…!”
“Michelle’s out of it anyway, and the cash hits at dawn. No higher-up watching us… Huh?”
I whipped out my nuclear bat from my waist, smirking like I knew it.
Nodded once. Order to the hundred security men.
“Take down their command post now. Control the bundle traders. Execute!”