Chapter 37: Opening the Blind Box, Dark Turbulence Lurks

The house was eerily quiet, and I could hear my own heart thudding in my chest. Li Ping'an had a door plank pressed against his back, while outside Yan Bu Gui's snoring roared like thunder, making the interior seem even quieter.

He exhaled a long breath, spitting out the bloody and cold air he had brought back from the dock. After all the running on the roof just now, his heart was pounding harder than ever.

Calming his mind, he thought a single thought, and his body entered that little realm.

The space was still warm and quiet, the items piled like a mountain, giving a sense of solidity. The three newly acquired large wooden boxes stood there awkwardly, exuding a strange, ominous vibe.

"Time to open the treasure chest," Li Ping'an said, rubbing his hands, a hint of excitement in his eyes, like a child awaiting the New Year, though he knew whatever was inside could be deadly.

Instead of opening a box first, he walked to the water tank, ladled some Spirit Spring Water and gulped it down with a gurgle. The cool, sweet water soothed his stomach and throat, easing the unease from the recent killing. After the body‑tempering, his mind hardened considerably, though it was still not made of stone.

After drinking, he approached the first box. The box was heavy and tightly sealed. Too lazy to fetch a tool, he summoned a bit of that chilling energy and slid his fingertip along the seam of the lid.

Click.

The wooden joint snapped softly. Using internal force to open the box proved convenient.

He lifted the lid. Inside were piles of oil‑paper wrappers. He opened one; it was a black lump with a peculiar smell.

"Big tobacco?" Li Ping'an pinched the small piece, rubbed it, held it under his nose and sniffed, his brows furrowing. "Or maybe premium goods. Those scumbags of the Luocha Sect are truly worthless."

The item was valuable, a hard currency, but also a harmful trick. He shook his head, shoved the oil‑paper wrapper back as it was, and moved the box and its contents to the farthest dusty corner of the space. "Leave it for now; it can't be taken out to harm anyone."

Next he opened the second box. This one was heavier. Upon opening, he saw neatly stacked long wooden boxes inside. He pulled one out and lifted its lid.

Yellow‑ish bullets were packed in a cork pad, glinting with a cold light. All brand‑new 7.92 mm rifle rounds!

Li Ping'an's gaze hardened. He picked up a few, weighed them—heavy. The quantity and caliber weren't something a petty thug would deal with. He muttered to himself, "The Luocha Sect dealing in arms? Where did they get them? Who are they selling to?"

These were hotter than the tobacco, but also… more useful. After pondering, he carefully stored the box of rounds in an easily reachable spot. Maybe they'd come in handy someday.

Finally came the third box. It looked the most ordinary, sealed the tightest. He had to exert some effort to pry it open.

Its surface was ordinary cotton‑silk, as if a cover. He peeled back the fabric, revealing several thick oil‑felt packs underneath.

Li Ping'an's heart raced inexplicably, a half‑beat faster. He carefully opened the first oil‑felt pack.

Inside were several glass syringes and a few small glass bottles, the bottles containing clear liquid, their labels bearing looping foreign characters.

"What is this?" he lifted a small bottle to the light, feeling the unease in his gut intensify. It didn't look like medicine, nor anything good.

He hurriedly opened the second oil‑felt pack. At that moment, his breath suddenly stopped!

Inside were several notebooks, a thick stack of papers. The notes were handwritten in Japanese, interspersed with chemical symbols and bizarre scribbles! The pages bore Japanese headings, and beneath were red stamps reading "Top Secret" and "Special High Section"!

Li Ping'an's hand trembled slightly. He flipped through the papers rapidly; although he couldn't read all the Japanese, he understood the Chinese characters and diagrams—these were test data and methods for a new poison gas bomb used by the Little Devils! It was the Japanese Spy's dossier!

"What a bastard…" he inhaled a sharp breath of cold air, plummeting onto the ground, feeling his back suddenly drenched.

He finally understood why the Luocha Sect was so nervous, why, besides Leopard Lord, professional gunmen were watching! This wasn't a gang loot—this was the Little Devils' lifeline being transferred! He felt like a blind cat striking a dead rat, stumbling into Yama's Hall!

Stealing big‑tobacco arms would at most draw gang retaliation. Stealing this… is like poking a massive hornet's nest! Special High Section, the empty Musashi… they'd go crazy, searching the whole city. Even digging three feet down they'd have to uncover it!

A rush of cold surged from his soles to the heavens' crown, scarier than when he faced the empty Musashi! Placing this in the space is truly stable, but the item itself is lethal!

What to do? Hand it over? To whom? Those people? Who knows how many second‑rank Japanese are inside? It might be returned to the Japanese at a moment's notice! Destroy it? How? This thing probably can't just be smashed or burned…

His mind was a tangled mess, his temples throbbing. The earlier thrill of "made a fortune" had vanished, leaving only a cold pour of icy water.

He forced himself to settle his spirit, taking deep breaths; the chilling internal breath began to circulate on its own, at least suppressing his panic a bit.

The more panicked, the faster one dies.

He picked up those papers and notes again, his gaze hardening. Can't read everything? No problem; there's time in the space! In the books he had collected before, there seemed to be a Japanese dictionary and a chemistry text!

He put the other items away, leaving only those deadly papers. He dove into the stack of books, rummaging.

Time seemed to stand still in the space. He stared at the dictionary, guessing and muddling, using his sliver of chemistry knowledge to chew through those arcane Japanese texts and formulas. The more he understood, the heavier his heart grew.

This poison gas seemed more toxic than any he knew, acting faster and harder to defend against…

After an indeterminate amount of time, he slammed the notebook shut, his eyes blood‑red, both from exhaustion and anger.

"Damn little devils…" he spat through his teeth. If this thing were actually produced, how many civilians would die?

Destroy! It must be destroyed completely! But not haphazardly.

He stared at the few bottles of clear liquid, his gaze flickering. They were probably samples or something crucial? He wasn't sure. If he smashed them outright, would they leak? In the space it might be fine, but… what if?

He thought it over, fetched several sturdy earthenware jars, carefully placed the glass bottles inside, sealed them with compacted thick earth, and tossed them into the farthest corner of the space. He would deal with them once he found a safer method.

As for those papers and notes…

A ruthless resolve flashed in his eyes. He couldn't keep them! Every extra moment increased the risk! Yet he couldn't just waste them… perhaps, before destroying them, let them serve a final purpose?

A daring, reckless idea surfaced. Could he… use this thing to set a trap? Stir the water, directing the disaster to where it should go?

For example, make the Japanese suspect a traitor among their own? Or cause the factions colluding with the Japanese to take the blame?

The thought made his blood boil. It's truly risky, but if it works, it's worth it! If executed well, he could not only temporarily extract himself but also watch the dogs turn on each other!

He calculated carefully, his eyes brightening, a rough plan gradually forming in his mind. He needed a chance, details, and… a "credential" from the Japanese Spy.

He suddenly recalled the iron badge he had taken from the gunman! The badge engraved with an eagle and a serial number!

He quickly retrieved the iron badge, feeling its icy surface. This item might serve as a drug catalyst?

It's a gamble!

He stopped overthinking, fetched paper and pen, cross‑referenced the notes and documents, selecting the most crucial, most illustrative yet truncated data and conclusions that could mislead, and copied a few pages. He deliberately mimicked the Japanese handwriting on the paper, writing hastily.

After finishing, he piled the original notes and documents together, his gaze icy.

A sudden impulse, a barrel of kerosene appeared beside him. He didn't hesitate, pouring it all over.

Then, he struck a match.

An orange‑yellow flame leapt up, greedily licking the paper, quickly igniting it, devouring the harmful words and diagrams, turning them into drifting black ash and a sharp, burnt smell.

The firelight illuminated Li Ping'an's face, alternating bright and dark. He watched everything turn to ash, then let out a long, drawn breath.

It was like burning a huge bundle, but a heavier burden settled on him—those few copied papers and the iron badge in his hand became a new, more precarious asset.

He carefully wrapped those papers and the iron badge in oil‑paper and tucked them close to his body.

After finishing, a wave of fatigue rose within him. Not physical tiredness, but mental exhaustion.

He slumped beside the pile of supplies, watching the perpetual dim glow of the space. Outside, the sky should be bright now, right? After the dock incident, today Beiping City would be turned upside down again.

And he himself, right on this wind‑sharp wave‑mouth, carried a secret capable of blowing up the heavens.

He closed his eyes, yet the corner of his mouth slowly drew a cold, slightly crazy smile.

Let it be chaotic, the more chaotic the better. Since we can't dodge it, let's stab a hole in this heaven and take a look!

We must hurry out and listen to the wind outside. This grand performance has just begun.

He inhaled, shifted his mind, left the space, and returned to the cold, slightly dusty little hut.

Outside the window, the sky had indeed grown dimly bright.

A new day, a new wave is coming.