Blind Spot (7)
Last year, a man named Zhang Qi, who held the positions of Standing Committee member of Hainan Province and secretary of the Haikou City Standing Committee, was arrested by the Central Commission for Discipline Inspection on corruption charges. In the basement of his mansion, gold bars worth 800 billion won and foreign currencies along with RMB equivalent to 45 trillion won were discovered.
In the same year, Chen Gang, then mayor of Beijing, was caught with 20 tons of gold, over 2,000 artworks, and RMB and overseas bonds worth 27 trillion won stored in his residence. Others, like Guo Boxiong and Xu Caihou, former vice chairmen of the Central Military Commission, had also stockpiled tons of gold bars and cash in their home basements before being hauled in by the Discipline Commission.
And these were the cases announced publicly—standard practice was to drastically reduce the amounts out of consideration for the Party and the nation's prestige. Who in their right mind would take the Communist Party's announcements or Chinese media reports at face value?
Even if we conservatively estimate just seven provincial Standing Committee-level victims, the total stolen would exceed 100 trillion won. This was assuming every secret vault of those cadres had been perfectly cleaned out, but if it was the work of Awakened Ability Users, an incomplete theft seemed even less realistic.
Factor in similar incidents in other regions, and the Black Sea Party's funds could amount to around 2% of China's GDP. If that money flooded the market indiscriminately or leaked overseas, it would spell literal disaster for the Chinese economy. Above all, a sudden surge in RMB circulation would be the problem. If hedge funds worldwide caught the scent and took simultaneous short positions against the yuan, China would suffer massive short-term losses it couldn't avoid.
In the current state where China's economic indicators were far from stellar, that loss could become the first domino toppling into massive turmoil.
I grew curious about how the chinks would respond.
"What's the Communist Party's reaction?"
"No official public stance yet, but internally, they're propagandizing that 'Western forces trying to contain China have infiltrated superpowered individuals who are colluding with anti-state elements to commit crimes and exaggerating the scale of the stolen funds to smear the Party.'"
"Anything else?"
"Censorship is a given, and they've announced rewards from 1,000 yuan up to 100 million yuan based on contribution for anyone helping capture the culprits, with the option of fast-tracking into Public Security Bureau cadre positions if desired."
Not enough.
"They've also issued orders to the Triads to bring in Black Sea Party members. Prove it's one of them, and they pay 10 million yuan per severed head, 20 million for live captures as base bounties. Cadre-level gets bonuses into the hundreds of millions."
"And?"
"That's the end of the surface-level measures."
"Hah."
Ten million yuan was about 1.7 billion won; 100 million yuan around 17 billion. Objectively not insignificant as bounties, but...
"Impressive. Pinching pennies even in a crisis like this."
If I were a bounty hunter, even catching Black Sea Party members, I'd first covet finding and claiming their stolen loot myself.
A professor named Huan Gang, former director of the Tsinghua University Institute for National Policy Studies, had published research claiming that around 1 trillion yuan vanished annually into bureaucratic corruption during Jiang Zemin's chairmanship. Meaning 13-16% of GDP flowed into the pockets of Party cadres and public officials. Likely a regime-approved hit piece to trash predecessors, but I believed the current regime was far more rotten.
Anyone could see Xi Jinping was primed to gorge more than Jiang Zemin, right?
In Italy, a single mafia outfit skims 3% of GDP; naturally, the Communist Party should do even better.
Assuming the same evaporation rate as before on China's current GDP, last year's figure would easily top 2 trillion dollars annually. Over 2,200 trillion won. Thus, the Chinese Communist Party was a criminal syndicate raking in 2,200 trillion won a year. Embezzlement, bribery, cronyism, and selling offices were blatant crimes; a gathering of criminals was a criminal organization. That was why I called the CCP the world's largest.
In such dire straits, those grand criminals masquerading as a party had no time to be choosy about methods. Fail to snuff out the spark early, and all the pent-up disorder would engulf their entire enterprise.
Yet they blinded themselves with shortsighted greed, mounting insufficient responses. All to my benefit, of course.
"What do you think? Does the Black Sea Party really have backers?"
Suyeon shook her head—not denial, but uncertainty.
"Not enough clues yet to judge. I'll report back once the investigation advances further."
"What about the backgrounds of the robbed cadres?"
She dipped her head slightly at my follow-up.
"...I'm sorry. That's under investigation too."
"No need to apologize. I rushed the report."
"I'll order additional probes into the possibility of intra-Party factional power struggles. May I allocate budget at my discretion?"
"Post-approval as always."
"Thank you."
She'd pinpointed my intent from the question, so I figured the Black Sea Party's backers might be a specific CCP faction.
Sacrificing a goat to an angry populace is always a valid strategy.
The Party was on edge from karmic debts piled up over years. That karma? Imperialism, ultimately. China's current prosperity was built by stratifying the people by class and exploiting the many by the few.
In essence, China had caught or surpassed imperial pioneers by building internal colonies—a deviant strategy.
Many thought they knew China, but their shallow knowledge was like claiming to understand North Korea from Pyongyang alone. China had four classes: first-class Party members, second-class urban dwellers, third-class peasants and migrant workers with inferior hukou, and bottom-tier black children without even that, denied basic human treatment.
700 million peasants, 250 million migrant workers, and uncountable black children—over a billion total, the subjugated masses of modern China's worst colonial empire.
But now, primitive magic—superpowers, in their populist terms—was awakening in those overwhelming hordes of "cicada larvae."
For fake communists ruling through brainwashing, agitation, gun barrels, surveillance, and repression, it was fire at their feet. They must feel like carrying untimed bombs.
How noisy would it be when over a billion larvae, surviving on filth in sunless sewers, finally metamorphosed and cried out? Their initial cacophony might be discordant, but over time, it would converge into layered harmonies.
In such times, political human sacrifice was an effective escape. Crown Prince Party, Tuanpai, Shanghai Gang—pin corruption on one faction, purge it, and calm the boiling pot of people.
In short, the Black Sea Party was a perfect pretext for such purges. A fine strategy to vent gas before explosion.
My thoughts branched elsewhere.
Or maybe this is the Round Table's handiwork...
Not absurd fantasy. Like me, they could reliably awaken primitive magic users. Dispatch one Master, and they could puppeteer unrest anywhere.
I'd once planned similarly. But an intelligence gap yawned between us and the Round Table. Their rabble could tap the famed British SIS; I had only my organization and flimsy guanxi.
In China's labyrinth of counterintelligence and spy agencies, building something like the Black Sea Party myself meant serious risks. Crucially, I faced choices of focus. I was the only true mage in my camp.
Codes, weapons, money, troops, submarines. Too many paths lay before me; which led best to the Round Table's ruin remained elusive despite endless deliberation.
Thus, I'd considered direct theft as an emergency move—for urgent funding.
That was the situation. But with chaos afoot, riding the wave for profit was fair game. High expected returns versus effort and risk. Even if I hit another high official's home, who could tell if it was me or the Black Sea Party? Dispersed responses meant sharply reduced risks.
Suyeon voiced the same thought.
"You might need to visit China soon, sir."
I replied, eyes forward.
"Likely. Can't ignore a hunting ground where scraps alone yield trillions."
Well played, it could fund the entire London war in one go. My cursed eyes would grant unmatched edge there too—though not purely for profit.
I issued spaced commands.
"Plenty of Public Security and counterintelligence bureaucrats will be cornered by this. Some will sell their souls for results, so build networks there if feasible to source intel."
"I'll do my best."
"Just in case: only when conditions allow. No forcing it and getting our tails stepped on. Judgment's yours."
"Yes."
Aim: premium guanxi cracking China's intel net. Turn desperate cadres with favors and results; given the stakes, feasible.
If Round Table scum wielded state resources, I needed counterparts for balance.
Conversation lulled. Seemed we'd covered it.
"Other reports later."
"Yes," Suyeon replied.
Rising, hands behind back, I left the shade for sunlight. Those who've deeply pondered know: some thoughts narrow the more you dwell, trapped in inertial logic and evidence, blind to alternatives.
Thus, clearing the mind repeatedly was essential for major reviews. Time alone didn't boost efficiency.
Why I approached the waves: to wash cluttered thoughts with crashing white foam. After hearing, touch helped. On this southern beach presaging winter, cool breezes no one disliked swept sunset-hued sands.
Overloaded sight hindered least, but wasn't bad. I immersed remaining mind in senses, halting thoughts.