889: Chapter 884 Shark Pool

Hanging up the phone, Shen Yan took out the deep blue passport he hadn't used in a long time from the safe. He changed into an inconspicuous gray windbreaker, slung the severely worn backpack over his shoulders, and looked like any ordinary down-and-out backpacker.

Looking at himself in the mirror, the scholarly elegance of a businessman was obscured by seven or eight parts by this attire, replaced by a sharpness hidden deep in his bones.

The next morning, as the first ray of sunlight spilled onto the runway of Pudong Airport, Shen Yan was already seated on an old Boeing aircraft bound for the transit country.

After nearly twenty hours of winding turbulence, upon landing at the capital airport of Country Q, a heatwave mixed with dust, spices, and a faint smell of gunpowder washed over him.

There were no neat jet bridges here, only mottled concrete and fully armed patrolling soldiers.

Shen Yan pulled down his baseball cap and walked out of the airport, blending into the sparse crowd.

According to the intelligence provided by the System, he first needed to find a middleman named 'Old Blind Man'.

The streets of Kabala Port were narrow and crowded, with colorful Tuk-Tuks careening wildly over the potholed road surface.

Shen Yan stopped in front of a hardware store with a rusty sign.

The shop was dimly lit, where a one-eyed old man was sitting amidst a pile of scrap parts, wiping down an old-fashioned revolver.

"Buying something or selling your life?"

The Old Blind Man asked in broken English without even lifting his head.

Shen Yan took out a neatly folded US dollar bill from his bag and gently placed it on the counter.

"Buying information, specifically about tonight's 'Deep Sea' auction."

The Old Blind Man's hand paused. His turbid, single eye shot up, staring intently at Shen Yan.

"An Asian? That's not a place you should go. That's a shark tank."

"I came here to fish for sharks."

Shen Yan placed another bill down, this time a thick roll of Franklin portraits.

In this place, US dollars were more useful than God.

The Old Blind Man grinned, revealing his toothless mouth, and swept the money into the drawer.

"It's by private invitation only. You need an entry ticket."

He fumbled under the pile of junk parts and pulled out a black titanium alloy badge, tossing it to Shen Yan.

"It turns out the buyer was throat-slit in an alley last night. You're lucky."

Shen Yan caught the badge; it felt cold in his hand. A ferocious trident pattern was engraved on it.

"Thanks."

Night fell, and the clamor of Kabala Port gradually receded, replaced by a suffocating silence.

The auction was held in an abandoned submarine base beneath the port.

The giant blast door opened slowly, revealing a hall so luxurious it was almost absurd.

Under the crystal chandeliers sat people of all complexions—white men in full suits, and local warlords wrapped in headscarves. Each was flanked by bodyguards armed to the teeth.

Shen Yan, alone, looked completely out of place.

However, the steady aura emanating from him made a few guys who intended to approach him hesitate and retreat.

The auction proceeded quickly. The first few items were smuggled diamonds and gold, which Shen Yan didn't even bother to look up for.

This continued until the final lot was brought out.

It was a silver briefcase, no larger than the palm of a hand, placed inside a bulletproof glass case.

"This is what we came for."

The auctioneer was a fat man in a tailcoat, his voice trembling with excitement.

"The swan song of the former Soviet Union's 'Ruby' Design Bureau: the complete technical data for the 'Deep Sea Phantom.' Starting bid: fifty million US dollars."

The hall immediately fell silent, followed by a chorus of heavy breathing.

"Sixty million."

A burly white man raised his paddle. He was the leader of an international mercenary organization.

"Seventy million."

An elderly Asian man sitting in the corner spoke calmly. His demeanor suggested he was an agent for some East Asian conglomerate.

"One hundred million."

Shen Yan raised the paddle in his hand. His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a stone dropped into a calm lake.

All eyes instantly focused on the young man in the windbreaker.

The white leader turned, his gaze fierce enough to devour someone, and he made a throat-slitting gesture with his finger across his neck.

Shen Yan ignored him, calmly staring at the silver briefcase on the stage.

He wasn't here to see who could shout the loudest; he was here to throw money around.

One hundred and twenty-eight billion in liquid assets was the equivalent of a nuclear weapon in this dark underworld.

"One hundred and ten million!"

The white man roared through gritted teeth.

"Two hundred million."

Shen Yan raised his paddle again, without any hesitation, doubling the bid directly.

A collective gasp echoed through the hall.

This method of increasing the bid was simply treating money as nothing.

The elderly Asian man frowned, seemingly assessing the young man's background, and finally put down his paddle.

The white leader suddenly stood up, his hand already reaching toward his waist, but he was firmly held back by the bodyguard behind him.

Making a move here was tantamount to declaring war on everyone present.

"Two hundred million for the first time, two hundred million for the second time..."

The auctioneer's hammer fell heavily.

"Sold!"

The moment Shen Yan swiped his card, the System's notification sounded in his mind.

[Congratulations Host, you have successfully intercepted S-class strategic material.]

[Hidden mission triggered: Safely transport the material back to the country and hand it over to the relevant departments.]

The moment he took hold of the briefcase, Shen Yan felt a heaviness he had never experienced before.

This was not just a hard drive; it was bargaining chip in the great power game.

He didn't rush to leave. Instead, in front of everyone, he took out a seemingly complex electronic lock from his bag and clicked it onto the briefcase.

"Everyone, this case is equipped with a self-destruct device. If it leaves me by five meters, or if anyone tries to forcibly dismantle it, the micro-bombs inside will burn the hard drive to ashes."

Shen Yan surveyed the surroundings, his gaze sweeping over those greedy eyes.

"I don't want trouble, and I hope none of you want to cause trouble for yourselves."

With that, he picked up the case and strode out of the hall.

Outside the door, the hot wind of Country Q burned his face.

Shen Yan knew that the real danger had only just begun.

The road from here to the airport would be a life line bristling with thorns.

He took out his satellite phone and dialed the only secure number he had in this country—the Consular Protection Hotline of the Embassy of Country H.

"Hello, I am Shen Yan, a citizen of Country H."

"I have something here that I believe the country will be very interested in."

"I am currently in Kabala Port. I need a national flag."

The other end of the line was silent for three seconds, then a steady, powerful voice came through.

"Please stay on the line and remain where you are."

"The motherland is coming to pick you up."

After hanging up, Shen Yan leaned against the wall in the shadows and lit his first cigarette since arriving in Country Q.

Amidst the swirling smoke, he seemed to see the future vision of the Shenyan Group standing tall in the East of the world.

Atop the skyscraper of the Artificial Intelligence empire that was about to rise, a bright red flag would be planted.