57: Chapter 57 Undeterred Overseas Channels

He glanced at his father beside him and continued typing: "Just let Mr. Adebayo handle it as he sees fit; it's best to delay the product reveal.

That piece of junk can't beat our Power Max, let alone our Smartphone."

Hearing that there would be no price cuts, Huang Tianya offered a slight reminder: "Mr. Shen, if their new phone is priced at over 60 USD, there will be a huge gap compared to our Power Max.

It's basically a two-fold difference, which will definitely impact sales."

"It's not a huge problem. Our T85 is holding down the 30 USD price segment. Although it doesn't have as good battery life as theirs, its signal strength is clear.

The impact on sales won't be that significant, and they can't enter many markets anyway.

Just let Mr. Adebayo focus on promoting our Smartphone."

Huang Tianya thought about it and didn't say anything more.

Overall, the boss was right!

...

Lagos, the first day of July.

At 5:00 AM, before dawn, over a dozen vans quietly entered the Marina district.

The doors opened, and over 100 young men wearing orange work uniforms printed with the "TECNO" logo jumped out, carrying paint buckets and brushes.

The leader was a black man in his thirties named Cayote. Six months ago, he had been a small-time thug in Bal Market, but now he had been recruited and was the operations captain for Transsion's Nigeria marketing department.

"Brothers, hurry up," Cayote shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth to form a makeshift megaphone.

"This street has already been negotiated. Before dawn, every blank wall on this street needs to be painted with the S1 advertisement."

"Guaranteed to complete the mission."

The team members quickly dispersed, working in pairs—one applying the base coat, the other spraying the pattern. The orange TECNO S1 advertisement and the corresponding phone outline gradually appeared on the dim walls.

This was the excellent promotional method Mr. Adebayo had come up with earlier.

Many places in Nigeria lacked electricity, so TV ads and outdoor billboards weren't very effective, but wall paintings were different; they could be secured for a small amount of money.

The cost was low, the coverage was wide, and most importantly, no one could tear them down. With the previous experience of the T1 and Power Max, they could basically just say hello and start spraying the advertisements.

But just as the operations team was painting the advertisements, an unexpected event occurred.

"Hey. What are you doing?"

Suddenly, seventeen or eighteen rowdy black thugs emerged from the alley, carrying clubs. Leading them was a man with a scar on his face, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Cayote saw it and immediately understood what was happening—they were here to pick a fight—so he signaled his brothers. He then stepped forward: "Transsion Company, we're doing promotions. All procedures are compliant. Is there a problem?"

"The problem is huge," the Scar-faced man spat out his cigarette butt. "This is Boss James Wang's territory! Painting advertisements here, did you ask Boss Wang? Did you pay?"

Hearing the familiar name "James Wang," Cayote's eyes instantly turned cold. Originally, he had just intended to beat them up and chase them away. But now... as long as they didn't die, it was fine.

After all, it was this guy who, when Transsion first entered the Nigeria market, had started off talking nicely only to later try and extort Transsion with a 70% profit share. The boss had rejected him directly, and the feud between the two sides was established.

Later, Transsion opened direct-sale stores, stealing a lot of their business. This guy held a grudge and would cause trouble every time they did promotions. The feud only deepened...

"What if we don't pay?" Cayote asked.

"Don't pay?" The Scar-faced man grinned hideously, waved the mace in his hand, and pointed at the paint buckets.

"Then you'll have to ask the tools in our hands. Either you drink all this paint, and maybe if I'm in a good mood, I'll spare you."

Cayote waved his hand again, and the brothers who went to get their tools surrounded them. Seeing his team in formation, Cayote felt a boost of confidence.

But because it was still dark, the Scar-faced man thought they were backing down: "Or you can just pay the money, 5,000 USD, consider it our brothers' attendance fee. After all, it's not easy for the dozen of us to supervise your work."

Cayote shook his head silently again. It wasn't out of helplessness, but...

"Brothers, do you remember what President Mr. Adebayo said during training?"

The team members replied in unison: "We are a legitimate business, not thugs, so we must be kind. Negotiate first, then paint the advertisements, but if anyone causes trouble, then fight! Fight until they submit! If they are James Wang's men, don't treat them specially—just make sure they stay alive."

"Do it."

The Transsion team members with clubs immediately rushed forward, and those who had been standing next to Cayote put down their paint buckets and drew telescopic batons from their waists. Compared to the tools they had just picked up, the batons were the company-issued self-defense tools. After all, Africa was chaotic; carrying some self-defense tools was very reasonable.

What followed was a one-sided beatdown. These employees were no ordinary staff. When Mr. Adebayo recruited the promotional team (guards), there was an unspoken rule: prioritize hiring people who had been soldiers, trained in boxing, or... fought on the streets. After joining, there was twice-weekly combat training, with instructors who were professional "security" experts brought over from China.

Those thugs were fine at bullying ordinary people, but against a professionally trained team, they didn't stand a chance. A few minutes later, all eighteen thugs were lying on the ground wailing. While fighting, Cayote realized that because it was dark, he had miscounted by one. But it didn't matter; they were all steamrolled just the same.

The Scar-faced man was particularly bruised and swollen, with three teeth knocked out, including two front teeth, making him lisp when he spoke.

Cayote crouched in front of him and tapped his face with the baton: "You must be new, right? Go back and tell James Wang: Transsion in Nigeria now has hundreds of direct-sale stores, and we have over 5,000 promotional team members just like us. He still wants to collect protection money?"

He leaned in closer again, waving the baton in front of his eyes: "Ask my 5,000 brothers if they agree to that? And you're stupid enough—James Wang has been beaten how many times now, and he still dares to come?

If he wants to use other methods, we'll play along to the end. But I'll tell you this: we are a legally operating, legitimate enterprise, and we pay a lot of taxes every year. If he wants to keep fighting us, we're ready to handle it through both legal and underworld channels. We welcome him to keep making his moves."

At this moment, the Scar-faced man was trembling with fear. He was indeed a new recruit, and his village was very backward, so he had never heard of the grudge between the two sides.

"And another thing," Cayote stood up.

"You wasted 20 minutes of our time just now. Cleaning fees, emotional distress fees... we won't overcharge you, we'll give you a discount. 100,000 Naira (approx. 650 USD). Deliver it to the Transsion store in the Marina district tomorrow. For every day late, it increases by 100,000. When that time comes, we'll go find you ourselves."

After saying that, he waved his hand: "Brothers, back to work. We must finish before dawn."

The team members picked up their tools again and, as if nothing had happened, continued painting the walls.

All that was left were the seventeen thugs, wailing endlessly on the ground.