839: Chapter 834: You can only look, you can't touch.

France.

The nation filled with romance and art.

To Shen Yan's eyes at this moment, however, it was a gold mine waiting to be excavated.

"deep blue heart."

The name alone was enough to drive any industry insider insane.

The system's intelligence indicated that besides him, other forces were also eyeing those containers.

Although they didn't know what was hidden inside.

But at such a chaotic auction, any variable could occur.

Shen Yan took out his tablet and pulled up documentation regarding the French customs auction process, which he had asked Ning Ke to compile overnight.

The auction used a hybrid model of sealed bids followed by open bidding, and the Saint-Jean port warehouse area was far from simple.

It was a place teeming with riffraff and rife with gangs.

Many smuggled goods would pass through there for transshipment.

To successfully secure that container, money alone wouldn't be enough; he needed means.

Shen Yan's gaze fell upon a small line of text in the documentation.

[Actual Controller of Saint-Jean Port: The Corsican Mutual Aid Society.]

That was a tough character.

It seemed this trip to France wouldn't be too peaceful.

But that suited him perfectly.

Life that was too peaceful would cause one's bones to rust.

The plane soared into the clouds.

Shen Yan closed the tablet and rested his eyes.

Ten hours later.

He would stand on European soil to reclaim something that rightfully belonged to the future.

Marseille, France.

This was a Jinghai caressed by the Mediterranean sea breeze for a thousand years.

Ancient, chaotic, yet brimming with vitality.

When Shen Yan and David Chen stepped out of the airport, a light rain was falling outside, the cold dampness seeping in everywhere.

David Chen pulled his jacket tighter and sneezed.

"This cursed weather is colder than Jinghai."

A black mercedes-benz Viano was already waiting by the roadside; this was the ground transportation Ning Ke had arranged.

The driver was a Chinese man in his forties, with a shrewd look on his face.

"Mr. Shen? I'm Old Zhang."

Old Zhang eagerly took the suitcase from David Chen's hand.

"President Ning gave me all the instructions. The hotel is booked at the Sofitel near the Old Port."

"Feel free to ask for the car whenever you need it these few days."

Once in the car, Shen Yan looked out the window. The streets of Marseille were somewhat dilapidated, covered in graffiti.

Groups of various ethnicities could be seen gathered by the roadside, looking warily at passing vehicles.

"Old Zhang,"

Shen Yan suddenly spoke up.

"How much do you know about the auction at Saint-Jean Port?"

Old Zhang, who was driving, paused and glanced at Shen Yan through the rearview mirror.

A hint of surprise appeared in his eyes.

"Mr. Shen is also going for that?"

"Also?"

Shen Yan caught that word.

"It seems quite a few people are going."

Old Zhang gave a wry smile.

"More than quite a few."

"Marseille is going to be turned upside down these few days."

"I don't know how the news got out, but they're saying there are good things in that batch of stranded containers."

"Yesterday, I drove several groups of people. There were people from Eastern Europe, the Middle East, and even a few tech geeks who looked like they were from Silicon Valley."

"Everyone is keeping an eye on those few special boxes."

Shen Yan's brow furrowed slightly.

Had the news leaked?

That was exclusive information.

If those people were also after the containers, it meant two possibilities.

First, besides the "deep blue heart," there were other valuable items in those containers.

Second, someone was intentionally spreading rumors to muddy the waters.

"Is there any movement in the Chinese circle too?"

Shen Yan asked.

"Yes, there is."

Old Zhang said while turning the steering wheel.

"I heard a big boss from the Wenzhou Chamber of Commerce brought five million Euros in cash, saying he wants to sweep up everything."

"And a few people who do cross-border e-commerce also want to pick up bargains."

David Chen clicked his tongue in amazement.

"Wow, this is going to be a battle of the gods."

"Brother Yan, do we have enough money?"

Shen Yan didn't reply.

His fingers lightly tapped the edge of the car window.

Money?

In this game, money might be the least valuable thing.

If those people were truly after the "deep blue heart."

Five million Euros?

Even five hundred million Euros might not be enough to buy the ticket to that future.

The car passed through a narrow street.

A huge archway appeared ahead.

In the distance was a container dock stretching as far as the eye could see.

In that mountain of steel forests,

A box numbered CN-779 was quietly waiting for its owner.

Shen Yan's gaze pierced through the curtain of rain.

His eyes became sharp.

Since everyone wanted a piece of the pie.

Then let's see whose teeth are sharper.

"Old Zhang, we're not going to the hotel."

Shen Yan suddenly said.

"Huh? Where to then?"

Old Zhang was a bit bewildered.

"Straight to the port."

"I need to see that warehouse first."

Shen Yan's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an irrefutable command.

The intelligence provided by the system wasn't just location data.

There was also a detail.

The seal on that container seemed to have been tampered with.

He had to confirm before the auction started whether that thing was still inside.

If it wasn't, then this entire auction was a complete trap.

And he, Shen Yan, never jumped into a pit he was destined to lose.

Old Zhang's hands gripping the steering wheel trembled slightly.

The windshield wipers swung like the arms of a crazed old man, emitting a harsh scraping sound.

Ahead was a restricted area enclosed by barbed wire.

Saint-Jean Port.

This was Marseille's gray zone, where the light of the law could not penetrate the gaps between the mountains of containers.

"Mr. Shen, going further in is the Corsican territory."

Old Zhang slammed on the brakes, his voice shaky.

"They don't recognize tourists; they only recognize passes and US dollars."

Shen Yan sat in the back seat, his gaze passing through the rain to the massive gantry cranes in the distance.

They resembled steel behemoths lurking in the darkness.

"Guang Ke, give him two thousand Euros."

Shen Yan's voice was calm.

David Chen didn't hesitate. He pulled out a wad of colorful bills from his carry-on bag and tossed it onto the center console.

Old Zhang swallowed hard.

He was greedy, but this money felt hot in his hands.

"Wait outside."

Shen Yan pushed the car door open.

A gust of fishy, salty, cold sea breeze instantly flooded his collar.

David Chen followed closely behind, casually opening a folding umbrella to shield Shen Yan's head.

"Brother Yan, this place looks really creepy."

David Chen scanned their surroundings.

Several burly men in work uniforms with tattooed arms were squatting by the gatehouse smoking, their eyes like hooks fixed on the two of them.

Shen Yan ignored the gazes.

He walked straight to the gatehouse.

The bald, sturdy man in the lead stood up, a half-smoked cigar dangling from his mouth, blocking their path.

He didn't speak, just extended a dirty palm.

There was a ferocious knife scar across his palm.

Shen Yan took an envelope from his inner pocket and slapped it onto that hand.

It had a moderate thickness.

The bald man squeezed it, his mouth twitching slightly, and he shifted his body half a step to the side.

"Half an hour."

The bald man said in broken English.

"Look, but don't touch."