373: Chapter 373 The Three Hundred Million Dollars Behind the Empty City Strategy

Old K clicked his heels together: "Yes."

On the outskirts of Phnom Penh, in the Poreigosa District.

The "Prince Holding Group" headquarters stood tall beside Highway 5, twelve stories high, its glass curtain wall reflecting a cold, metallic sheen under the setting sun.

Three flags hung above the main entrance—the flag of Cambodia, the group's corporate flag, and a cultural flag printed with the words "Integrity · Win-Win · Future."

The receptionists in the lobby wore well-tailored uniforms, answering calls interchangeably in fluent English and Japanese.

Visitors had to pass through airport-grade security—metal detectors, X-ray machines, and a visitor registration system—before they could enter the elevators.

This was a standard international corporate headquarters. At least, the part above ground was.

The first to fourth basement levels were not on any architectural blueprints.

These four levels were connected by an independent air filtration system, backup generators, and hydraulic lifting platforms, with the entrance hidden behind a fake bookcase in the President's office.

Inside were 1,200 workstations, each equipped with a computer that could not connect to the external network, a VoIP phone with a forged caller ID, and a set of "talking scripts" purchased from the dark web.

This was the true core business of "Prince Holding"—a telecom fraud command center.

Chen Feng sat on the Italian leather sofa in the top-floor President's office, his fingers rhythmically tapping the armrest.

On the wall hung a photo of him with Hun Sen—in the photo, the two had their arms around each other's shoulders, and Hun Sen wore that relaxed smile that never appeared at press conferences.

On the coffee table sat a cup of untouched Lapsang Souchong; the tea had gone completely cold, with a thin layer of oil congealing on the surface.

He was on the phone.

"Minister Soka, this is Chen Feng. Yes, I know the front line is tight—but what about my industrial parks? I can evacuate this command center in Poreigosa myself, but my people are still inside the seven parks in Poipet, Pursat, and Pailin—"

On the other end of the line, the voice of Deputy Minister of the Interior Ken Soka sounded somewhat distracted. In the background, there was the rustling of paper and the sound of hurried footsteps.

"Mr. Chen, these are extraordinary times. The army is gathering in Pursat Province, and I need to prioritize arranging military and police forces to secure strategic passages and maintain order in downtown Phnom Penh. As for your parks—I suggest you evacuate them in place and transfer the core data."

"Evacuate?" Chen Feng stood up. "Minister Soka, there are over eight hundred workstations in the Poipet park, and the Pursat park houses the VIP group of diamond-tier clients, with over 300 million USD in unsettled earnings on the books! You say evacuate, so I just evacuate? Where am I supposed to move these people? If they fall into the hands of Thailand—then nobody gets that 300 million, and Prime Minister Hun Sen's share goes down the drain too!"

Soka's voice turned cold. "Mr. Chen, are you suggesting that the Prime Minister should mobilize the army to act as security for your parks at a time like this?"

Chen Feng opened his mouth but couldn't say a word.

"Transfer the core data first." Soka's voice returned to that steady, business-like tone peculiar to officialdom. "As for the personnel—evacuate as many as you can. For those you can't, deal with them on-site—"

He didn't finish that sentence.

Chen Feng hung up the phone and slammed it onto the sofa.

He walked to the window and, through the bulletproof glass, could see the Phnom Penh skyline shrouded in a layer of gray smoke and dust.

That wasn't smog—it was smoke rising from burning fuel and rubber forests in the direction of Pursat Province.

The smoke was dyed a reddish-brown in the setting sun, like a torn flag.

"Someone come in!" he shouted.

The secretary pushed the door open, her face pale. "Boss, the stock market has triggered a circuit breaker again. The central bank just announced a suspension of foreign exchange. The airport is packed with foreigners—dozens of our 'financial advisors' have also bought tickets—"

"Let them buy!" Chen Feng waved his hand. "Now is not the time to worry about people. Notify the Network Department to activate the server encryption protocol—place double encryption locks on all data, split the key into three parts, you take one, I take one, and send the other to my private email. Then notify the Poipet park—tell them to transfer all those 'special clients' in the basement."

The secretary's voice dropped. "Transfer them where?"

"If you can't transfer them, then—" Chen Feng paused for half a second, "you know what to do."

The secretary turned to leave, but Chen Feng suddenly called her back: "Wait—the helicopter. The Bell-407 on the roof, fill it with fuel and keep it preheated. Notify the pilot to stand by on the roof."

After the secretary left, Chen Feng sat alone in the office.

In the photo on the wall, his and Hun Sen's smiles remained bright.

He reached out to take the frame down, wiped the glass surface with his sleeve, and then put it into the Louis Vuitton suitcase at his feet.

He opened his computer and pulled up the surveillance feed of the fourth basement level.

On the screen, 1,200 workstations were busy.

The "operators" wearing headsets were speaking the same line into their microphones in various languages: "There is an abnormal overseas transaction on your credit card this month; we need to verify your social security number."

Their fingers tapped rapidly on the keyboards, and the tables on the screens scrolled with the names, nationalities, social security numbers, bank card numbers, passwords, dates of birth, and names of relatives of the victims.

Every line of text was a blood trough being drained.

Some people had been locked up for two years—if they didn't complete their daily quota, they would have a meal deducted.

On the walls of the dormitory on the third basement level, scratches gouged out with fingernails recorded the number of days they had been trafficked there.

Chen Feng didn't look at the scratches. He was looking at the data summary box in the corner of the screen.

"Cumulative settled funds: 9,482,231,447.56 USD."

He turned off the monitor. He transferred the 300 million USD of unsettled data to his private encrypted hard drive. Then he dialed Hun Sen's private number.

"The user you are calling is currently on another call."

Chen Feng hung up the phone. He picked up his suitcase and walked into the corridor leading to the secret door behind the bookcase.

At the end of the corridor, the fake bookcase slowly slid open, revealing the hydraulic elevator leading to the underground area.

His finger hovered over the elevator button—hesitating for a second—then he didn't press it, turned around, and walked toward the stairs leading to the rooftop helipad.

The rotors of the Bell-407 had already begun to turn.

At this moment, in the night sky outside the building, a matte black, unmarked stealth rotorcraft was hovering at an altitude of three hundred meters.

It wasn't driven by an engine—the rotors were driven by an electric propulsion system, and the blades adopted a low-noise design, emitting a decibel level equivalent to a breeze in a forest at night.

Inside the cabin sat twelve soldiers wearing "Shadow Dancer-3" optical camouflage combat suits.

Their captain's code name was "Night Owl."

On Night Owl's helmet visor, a 3D holographic map had already projected the internal structure of the entire building.

This map wasn't surveyed by satellite—it was "scrubbed" out layer by layer over the past seventy-two hours by two Intermediate Death Soldiers who had infiltrated the building's cleaning company.

The map marked the locations of all load-bearing columns, the layout of ventilation ducts, the distribution of power lines, the models and blind spots of surveillance cameras, the timing of security shift changes, and the precise dimensions of the secret passage behind Chen Feng's private bookcase.