Chapter 38: A Gathering of Heroes

Just as Cao Chuan's brain was desperately searching for the term "Saint Kitts," Xia continued, "The focus is freedom — tax avoidance is secondary, don't mix those up. After that, remember to hire some commercial lawyers, investment advisors, that sort of thing. Don't be afraid to spend money; money will roll in. Don't forget you have an entire world's resources behind you."

"Third step: use those people to help you build an international business organization. This organization needs a series of above-board counterpart industries — like a furniture factory — to absorb the resources you bring back and procure the supplies we need. The remaining shadow portion will be used to select and recruit transmigrators, and to erase traces in the aftermath."

Hearing this, Cao Chuan considered for a moment. "I generally understand what you mean. Once I head back this trip, I'll start the concrete operations. Wait for my news."

Xia Xianze, still uneasy, added further instructions: "Remember, the department that transports people — fire a few shots then change locations. Make secrecy the guiding principle in everything. Also, right now is the hardest opening phase, so for the time being, absolutely no one with a family in tow. The type who's lost both parents, a lone star of calamity — that's ideal."

Cao Chuan burst out laughing. "Like you, for example?"

Xia Xianze sighed helplessly. "After you go back, it'd be best to acquire some property in Africa. There are over a million Chinese there who've come out to make their way with their heads in their hands. It's perfectly normal for those poor bastards to end up as lion food — dead with no body to be found. Quite suitable for our purposes here." He shook his head again. "Ah, I'm nothing but a chang ghost now, helping you scheme against my own countrymen. It weighs bitter on the heart."

"You're about to become a Sphere Lord — what's with the sighing? I'm making the call: once our great revolution succeeds in the future, we'll divide up New Zealand and give it to you for your retirement."

"Six can only make one round trip, and only twenty-two cubic meters per trip. With that piddling transport volume — tch — if I can topple the Great Ming before I die of old age, that'll be good enough. Hmph, and forget New Zealand. If we're dividing, make it the Maldives. At least that gives me something to look forward to."

"Haha, fine, fine, you decide. The Maldives — the Maldives it is."

Laughing heartily, Cao Chuan stood up and with a swing of his hand released the empty carriage from his ring. "Since everything's clear, let's get moving. First, help me fill this up with the furniture we bought yesterday."

Xia Xianze: "..."

Half an hour later, looking at the carriage stuffed to the brim with rosewood furniture, Xia wiped the sweat from his head and turned to Cao Chuan. "Remember to have some twenty-two-cubic-meter sealed containers custom-made after you go back. Next time you come, the cargo volume needs to be calculated in detail. If there are many people, use compressed oxygen canisters to hold out for three minutes. Not a single inch of space can be wasted."

"Oh, then what goods are most urgently needed right now?"

"Nothing's particularly urgent. Use your own judgment. The main thing is to fill it completely. Even if you just throw in some steel bars, cement, and lighters, that's better than coming back empty."

"Understood."

As Cao Chuan reached out to stow the carriage into his ring, he turned his head. "Well then, hold the fort from here on. Next time I come, the team will certainly have grown stronger."

"Hurry up and get out of here. I'm planning to go for a spin around Hangzhou City this afternoon."

"Oh, so bold? You don't need me to explain things again to Chu San?"

"Enough. With that immortal-cultivation-level acting of yours, I understood it after hearing it once. Isn't it just about fooling ancient people? Don't worry, I'm definitely better than you at that."

"Oh. Well then, bye."

After saying this, Cao Chuan waved at Ma Xianze, and then vanished before his eyes.

Over a month after the two villains who had labored tirelessly across dimensions to overthrow the Great Ming parted ways.

Western calendar, May 29, 1627. Lunar calendar, the fifteenth of the fourth month.

Emerald waves surged, the sea stretched to the sky, and scattered slants of setting sun filtered through the cloud scales onto the Qiantang River. The afterglow reflected upon the scattered Chinese fishing ships, and a scroll of oil painting — blue base with floating gold — was instantly traced out by nature itself.

A flat-bottomed sand ship was riding the evening glow, heading upriver, straight for the mouth of the Tang River.

At the bow stood a burly, six-foot-five giant of a man, gazing into the distance against the headwind. The lines of his face were hard and angular, and he was dressed entirely as a boatman: a blue cloth wrapped around his head, a front-buttoned short jacket, and a pair of calf-nose trousers below, his feet bare — the very image of a water bandit or pirate. Only, inadvertently, the M9 pistol in the holster at the small of his back betrayed his identity — yes, this fellow was a transmigrator.

Liu Zhe stood at the bow, sighed, and habitually touched his newly installed implant teeth. This habit had only recently formed; every time he did it, he would recall the moment he had just finished getting those implants.

Liu Zhe was from Weihai. Born into a single-parent family, he entered military academy at nineteen. In between, he experienced the blow of his old father dying of illness, and a divorce. He stayed in the army until he was thirty, finally transferring to civilian life with the rank of Captain.

Lacking connections, after leaving the military he was kicked by the local government into a state-owned enterprise to work as a security company manager. A year later, he was dumbfounded — the factory had been demolished by developers. Just when he was at his wit's end, he happened to see an online recruitment ad.

The ad was simple: A certain enterprise expanding its market in a certain African nation, now openly inviting all kinds of talented individuals domestically. Not afraid you lack ability, only afraid you can't endure hardship. Once hired, monthly salary starting at four thousand, in parentheses (dollars).

Perhaps the fire in his chest had not yet died out, or perhaps he wanted to change his current broke-ass situation of having no house and no car — Liu Zhe, as if guided by spirits, clicked open that webpage.

What followed was a natural progression. After receiving his information, the other party quickly arranged an online interview, and then, not two days later, a prepaid medical examination card from a local hospital was first mailed to him.

Operating on the simple thought of "decide whether to go or not later, first score a free checkup," he eagerly ran off to the hospital — physicals were very expensive these days.

However, when he stood at the hospital entrance a few days later, stroking the two expensive Nobel implant teeth in his mouth, he felt deeply: in this world, there was still such a thing as genuine feeling.

A company that hadn't even signed a contract yet was generously willing to arrange a forty-thousand-yuan physical exam plus an "Africa common vaccine package" for a future employee, and throw in implant teeth at nine thousand a pop — what kind of spirit was this? What kind of ambitious company was this? How could an enterprise that cared for and cherished its employees so much not harvest a desperate devotion from its subordinates?

Filled with simple gratitude, Liu Zhe cast aside all his misgivings. Even though the company repeatedly emphasized that Africa was dangerous and that in the future he might be unable to contact his family or the country, the bachelor resolutely mailed out his signed contract.

After receiving the twenty-thousand-US-dollar settling-in allowance that was subsequently deposited to his card, he treated his two scant friends to a huge feast, mailed some money to his ex-wife, then packed his bags. With an excited heart, holding the first-class air ticket the company had mailed him, he boarded the flight to South Africa.

At the South African airport, he met the other four new employees from this recruitment wave. Five people, full of expectation, full of longing, believing they had joined the next Huawei and would surely become owners of the enterprise in the future, made their winding way onto the road to a certain East African nation.

After a long journey of dirt roads, broken-down buses, and lions, the group finally arrived at the manor the company's Old Chief had set up on the East African shore. The manor's name was tacky, but had a Chinese flavor: "Return-to-Ming Manor."

The next few days had a slightly bizarre taste. Under the guidance of the mercenaries in the manor, the five of them thoroughly indulged their gun craze. Liu Zhe even took the boss's Type 28 private sailboat out to sea and circled around a few times. Just as everyone was privately starting to mutter, they finally met the travel-worn "Cao Zong," who had rushed back from abroad.

After that — there was no after that.

Young, wealthy, and approachable, Cao Zong received the few of them inside the villa. All smiles, he personally rose and poured half a glass of Bordeaux for each person. Then, to Cao Zong's toast of "Fight for the realm, share the wealth and glory," everyone drank together in unison.

After this, the group bustled about, loading their luggage onto a "truck." The next moment, the cargo door suddenly slammed shut, and everyone went floating in the air. Fortunately, the carriage was full of cardboard boxes at that moment and rather cramped, so no one got their head smashed by being thrown around.

When the five people stepped out of the carriage again, they were already in the rear garden of Tangzhuang. A strange old man with disheveled shoulder-length hair, wearing a T-shirt inside and a brocade robe draped outside, was bent over, scrutinizing them carefully. Beside him stood the grinning "Cao Zong." Seeing this bizarre scene, Liu Zhe's stern tightened: "This isn't some faggot organization's trap, is it?"