13: Chapter 13 Thugs Block the Door and Search for People, Oil Prices Bring Devastating News

The chopsticks in Lin Chen's hands fell to the cold concrete floor with a "clang," making a sound so clear it was piercing in the deathly silent warehouse.

Marcus's voice, from the front Grocery Store just one wall away, was like a thunderclap exploding right against his ear.

His whole body instantly stiffened, his blood ran cold, every hair on his body stood on end, and even his instinct to breathe was frozen. He instinctively and silently shrank backward, squeezing himself deeper behind the mountain of old cardboard boxes and torn sacks in the corner of the warehouse, his hands tightly covering his mouth and nose, his fingertips ice-cold.

The warehouse was dimly lit, with only a little light from the front Grocery Store seeping through the door crack and a small vent high on the wall, illuminating the suffocating dust dancing in the air. The enamel mug he had only half-finished was still at his feet, the hot water inside long since gone cold.

"Bang! Crash—!" A harsh noise came from the front as a shelf was violently pushed over, and bottles and jars shattered. Immediately following was Marcus's roar, violent to the extreme: "Search! Turn every rat hole inside out for me! That bastard is definitely here!!"

Heavy boot steps, crude shouts, the sound of rummaging through boxes and cabinets... each sound was like a heavy hammer, smashing ruthlessly against Lin Chen's nerves, which were stretched to their limit. He bit his lower lip hard until he tasted blood, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"Creeeak—" The warehouse's thin wooden door was pushed open just a crack. Uncle Zhao slipped in and quickly closed the door. In the dim light, his face looked a bit pale, but his eyes were unusually calm and composed. He signaled to Lin Chen with his mouth and an extremely faint whisper: "Don't move. Don't make a sound. I'm here."

Then, he took a deep breath, straightened his clothes, and instantly switched his expression to that of an ordinary old man with just the right amount of panic and confusion. He turned around, opened the warehouse door, walked out, and pulled the door shut behind him, but didn't latch it.

Lin Chen's heart jumped into his throat. He held his breath, his ears pressed tightly against the cold wall, trying to catch every movement from the front Grocery Store.

The front of the store was a mess. A shelf had been overturned, and biscuits, soap, and cheap cosmetics were scattered everywhere. The lightbulb was swaying, causing the shadows to dance chaotically. Marcus stood in the center of the wreckage like a furious grizzly bear, clutching a table leg he had broken off from somewhere, his face twisted in anger. Two thugs stood on either side, rudely rummaging through the counter and the remaining shelves.

Uncle Zhao walked quickly behind the counter, his face showing suppressed anger and fear: "Marcus! What... what are you doing! By what right are you smashing up my store!"

"You old geezer, stop pretending with me!" Marcus strode to the counter, slamming the table leg onto it with a loud "thud" that made the change jar jump. "Where is Lin Chen? That yellow-skinned rat who owes me money, is he hiding here? Speak!"

"Lin Chen? What Lin Chen?" Uncle Zhao frowned, his eyes showing just the right amount of confusion and a hint of annoyance at being trashed for no reason. "This is a Grocery Store, there are many customers coming and going, how would I remember who is named Lin Chen? Marcus, I, Old Zhao, have been doing business on this street for decades and have never caused trouble. You smashed my store for no reason today; you must give me an explanation!"

"An explanation? I am the explanation!" Marcus sneered, leaning forward abruptly until his face was almost touching Uncle Zhao's, the thick stench of smoke and sweat hitting him in the face. "Someone saw him run towards your place! Old thing, I'm warning you, you can't afford the consequences of harboring someone who owes me money! If you don't hand him over today, I'll tear down this dump of a store and rip off one of your arms, believe it or not?!"

"Boss, why waste time talking to him! I think this old thing is being dishonest!" One of the thugs spat and kicked a tin biscuit box at his feet.

Uncle Zhao's body seemed to sway from fear, leaning back slightly, but his voice tried to maintain composure, even carrying a hint of ingratiating urgency: "Don't, don't do anything! Marcus, I really haven't seen the person you're talking about! But..." He seemed to suddenly remember something, lowered his voice, and gestured towards the door, "Just now... about ten minutes ago, I think I saw a dark figure run past my store entrance in a panic and dive into the alley to the west. It was dark, I didn't see the face clearly, but judging by the build... it was a young guy, he ran really fast."

"The west?" Marcus narrowed his eyes, staring suspiciously at Uncle Zhao.

"Yes, the west, that abandoned alley behind the old fire station." Uncle Zhao nodded affirmatively, speeding up his speech, carrying an urgency to get rid of the plague god quickly. "I was wondering when I heard the commotion, who would be running so fast in the middle of the night... Could it be the person you're looking for?"

Marcus stared at Uncle Zhao for a few seconds, seemingly judging the truth of his words. Uncle Zhao tried hard to maintain a calm expression, even a fine layer of sweat seeping from his forehead—in the dim, swaying light, this looked more like fear than lying.

"You'd better not be lying to me, old thing." Marcus withdrew his oppressive gaze, cursed, and turned to yell at his men, "Did you hear that? The western alley! Get after him! That bastard can't have gone far!"

"Yes, Boss!" The two thugs immediately dropped the things they were rummaging through.

Marcus walked to the door, turned back, pointed at Uncle Zhao with the table leg, and said viciously: "If I find out you're playing tricks, I'll come back and skin you alive! I'll burn your store to the ground!"

Uncle Zhao hurriedly waved his hands, his voice trembling: "I wouldn't dare, I wouldn't dare... How could I dare..."

Marcus let out a cold snort and rushed out of the Grocery Store with his men. The broken pickup truck let out a harsh roar, tires grinding over the road as it sped towards the west, the black smoke from the exhaust pipe rolling in the halo of the red lantern.

The Grocery Store instantly quieted down, leaving only the mess everywhere and the dust floating in the air. Uncle Zhao stood in place, and only when the sound of the engine outside completely disappeared into the night to the west did he seem to have his strength drained, stumbling a step and supporting himself on the edge of the scarred counter. He closed his eyes, raised his hand to wipe his face hard, wiping away the cold sweat on his forehead, and also wiping away all the disguise on his face.

He quickly walked to the door, stuck his head out to look left and right, then quickly closed the door and bolted it. After doing all this, he turned around, walked quickly to the back storage area, and gently pushed the door open.

"Little Chen, they're gone, they went chasing to the west." His voice returned to stability, but carried a hint of imperceptible fatigue.

Lin Chen crawled out from behind the pile of debris, using both hands and feet, his face pale as paper, his clothes covered in dust and cobwebs. He rushed to Uncle Zhao, looked at the old man's similarly pale face and the messy store, his lips trembling, unable to say a word, only bowing deeply, almost ninety degrees, to Uncle Zhao. When he straightened up again, his eyes were already red.

"Uncle Zhao... I'm sorry... I... I ruined your store like this..." His voice was choked with sobs.

"Silly child, why say these things. If the store is smashed, it can be tidied up; the most important thing is that you're okay." Uncle Zhao stepped forward and patted Lin Chen's thin, trembling shoulders firmly; they were ice cold to the touch. "Quick, don't stand here, they might turn back. You... go back and hide in the back first, I'll go get you something hot."

"No need, Uncle Zhao, I... I'm not hungry." Lin Chen shook his head; at this moment, how could he have any appetite to eat.

"Nonsense, you definitely didn't eat well just now, and then you were scared on top of that." Uncle Zhao pushed him towards the backyard without giving him a choice. When passing the counter, his steps paused almost imperceptibly, his gaze sweeping over an inconspicuous corner under the counter, then immediately moving away as if nothing had happened.

Lin Chen was half-pushed by Uncle Zhao back to the small storage room in the backyard. Uncle Zhao had him sit down, turned and went out, and soon brought back a cup of freshly poured hot water and a meat bun wrapped in a clean towel that was still warm. "Eat something to tide you over, I'll check the front."

Lin Chen took the bun and hot water, the warmth coming through the towel, but it couldn't warm his still cold hands and feet. He sat blankly, the feeling of exhaustion from surviving a disaster and the guilt towards Uncle Zhao intertwined.

Uncle Zhao took one look at him, didn't say anything more, and gently closed the door as he left.

The storage room returned to dim silence. Lin Chen mechanically took a bite of the bun, which tasted like wax. After a long while, his wildly beating heart gradually calmed down. Remembering something, his trembling hand fished out his phone from his inner pocket. The screen lit up, the fluorescent light reflecting his still-shaken face in the darkness. He habitually unlocked it, preparing to check that futures account which brought him both hope and endless risk, to see if those numbers were safe...

Just at the moment his fingertip was about to touch the app icon— Buzz!!! The phone in his palm violently shook! It wasn't a message notification, it was a near-alarm, continuous vibration!

At the same time, the bottom left corner of his vision, synchronized with the phone screen, was suddenly completely submerged in an unprecedented, blood-dripping deep red light! The red was so dazzling, so urgent, even carrying a certain heart-palpitating flickering frequency!

A huge, red warning box with constantly pulsing edges popped up forcibly, occupying almost his entire consciousness and visual interface:

[Highest Level Alert!!!] [Market has experienced an extreme reversal!] [Detected sudden massive panic selling of NYMEX crude oil futures!] [Price is in a cliff-like dive!] [Current real-time quote: 19.41 → 18.05 USD/barrel!] [Your floating profit on positions has shrunk sharply: $30,712.50 → $8,245.80 USD!] [Warning: Downward momentum is extremely strong, no signs of stopping the decline!] [Emergency recommendation: Immediately execute position reduction or close all positions! Repeat: Immediately execute risk control operations! Otherwise, you may face the risk of profits being completely wiped out or even losing principal!]

A cliff-like dive! Profits shrank from over thirty thousand dollars to over eight thousand in an instant! And it was still falling crazily at a speed visible to the naked eye!

Lin Chen's head went "buzz," as if struck hard by a heavy hammer! His vision went dark, and his ears were ringing!

The crumbs of the bun still in his mouth, mixed with the metallic sweetness suddenly surging up his throat, made him cough violently. He gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles making an overloaded "creak" sound, veins popping on the back of his hands.

The brief relief of having just escaped pursuit was instantly torn to shreds by this cold, cruel financial market slaughter.

From the front, the faint, subtle sounds of Uncle Zhao cleaning up the aftermath could be heard. In the backyard storage room, only his suppressed, broken coughing sounds remained, along with those shocking, bright red numbers on the screen that kept jumping deeper into hell.