Chapter 368: Arriving at the Port

Lingnan City is actually no different from other places.

This place also has a pigeon market and a black market.

And this city's black market has a local news that other places don't have.

That is the smuggling ticket.

Surprising or not, expected or not?

It's the kind of smuggling ticket that is delivered straight to the Harbor City urban area.

One ticket costs ten small yellow fish, about ten thousand.

It also allows you to bring a lot of stuff, almost like moving house.

Of course, if you think spending that much money guarantees safety, you're oversimplifying.

If you have many people with you, the goods you carry aren't exposed and aren't valuable, then you're probably fine.

If you flash wealth, have few people, and bring no weapons, getting ripped off by other criminals isn't uncommon.

Yang Qing didn't buy this; the money he had, at most, was less than a thousand.

He came here to get a weapon.

Talking is useless; better to have a gun in hand.

At this time, Harbor Island is very chaotic, with many lackeys.

If you look unfamiliar, your behavior and attire are off, people will come up to swindle, bully, and extort you—this is quite common.

(Those who have experienced the train station twenty years ago will probably understand what I mean.)

In Lingnan, Yang Qing fumbled around for three days and roughly figured out where the black market was.

At night he covered his head and entered the black market.

As usual, entering requires a fee.

Yang Qing paid the fee, wandered the black market for a while; there were plenty of illicit goods, and many people exchanging money or gold.

There are also antiques for sale, but the prices are much higher.

Yang Qing paid no attention to these things, just kept wandering, looking for the person he wanted to find.

Yang Qing approached and made a gesture.

That person immediately knew what he wanted.

"Want the shell removed?"

Yang Qing shook his head.

"Give me something reliable."

That person made a gesture.

"A barrel?"

Yang Qing felt it was okay.

"That kind? How's the condition?"

That person said quietly.

"Gun barrel, seventy percent new, maintenance is decent."

Yang Qing also spoke softly.

"Can I inspect it?"

That person gestured to the other side, and soon someone brought over a gun.

Yang Qing took it, disassembled it in a few moves; the mechanism was fine, maintenance was thorough.

The wear is severe; the accuracy might barely be enough. But for intimidation, it should suffice.

"How much?"

That person flicked his hand.

"Eight hundred."

Yang Qing widened his eyes.

"Are you robbing me?"

That person was dissatisfied and immediately put the gun away.

"I feel this is a loss; over there, two thousand would have people fighting to buy it."

Yang Qing said disdainfully.

"Are you trying to fool a fool?"

"With this junk, if you could sell it for two hundred over there, I'd call you impressive."

"For two thousand you could buy two AKs; who'd want your junk?"

Seeing that his bluff hadn't worked and that Yang Qing was an expert,

that person also became much more sincere.

"Three hundred, no haggling—take it or leave it."

"You're buying this now, probably because you want to go over there but fear the other side might play dirty, so you're getting insurance."

"With a weapon in hand, you might even make a fortune on the road."

Yang Qing didn't want to continue arguing with him.

"Three hundred is fine, with fifty rounds of ammunition."

"Impossible; fifty rounds of ammo, I could sell for a hundred."

Yang Qing turned to leave; the gun seller isn't the only one.

Seeing Yang Qing about to leave, that person hurriedly grabbed him.

Here you go, here you go.

Never seen you so sneaky.

Yang Qing reached out and took the gun.

Money, I'll give it to you when we go out to exchange the bullets.

That person was helpless.

Fine, you're the boss.

Yang Qing went around again, changing a watch, a belt, a set of clothes, and leather shoes.

Everything was fully prepared.

The person beside Yang Qing kept urging him to hurry.

Yang Qing, resigned, bought a few packs of cigarettes and a lighter.

Only then did they walk out of the black market.

After collecting the bullets, Yang Qing then handed the money to that person.

After a few steps, Yang Qing quickly loaded the bullets into the magazine, the crisp click carrying far.

He was warning the enemy not to act rashly.

Being careful is never wrong.

Only after leaving the city did Yang Qing relax.

Then he began heading toward Nanshan.

Another week later.

Yang Qing's preparations were nearly complete.

He shouldered several bundles of bamboo tubes and walked into the sea under night's cover.

He slowly swam south.

When tired, he'd lie on the bamboo tubes to rest; when hungry, he'd open a tube and sip sugar water.

The night was hazy, and he bobbed up and down.

Guided by the stars, Yang Qing kept swimming toward the right place.

Sometimes he wondered how many people lay buried in the sea below.

In the future, how many more will disappear here?

If ghosts truly exist, this sea should be called the Nether Sea.

After a night of tossing, Yang Qing was soaked and wrinkled, his body having shrunk considerably.

He looked wrinkled and pallid.

He crawled ashore like a dead dog.

Then he rested a long time among a reef.

Only then did he change clothes, put on his watch, and put on his leather shoes.

The pistol was tucked at his waist, covered by his clothing.

Just like that, arrogant.

Yang Qing smoked, walking with a duck's gait step by step toward the main road.

He found a shady spot by the road and waited for a vehicle to pass.

At this time, ox carts were common here, believe it?

Yang Qing then hopped onto one.

Halfway along, he encountered a freight truck.

Yang Qing simply stood in the middle of the road, arrogantly beyond belief.

Even being a freight truck driver then wasn't easy.

Pressing the horn, it rushed toward Yang Qing.

Yang Qing wasn't nervous at all; he just rested his hand on the gun grip, and the truck meekly stopped.

Only then did the driver soften a bit.

Hey, those who ply that road, is there any order left?

Yang Qing pulled open the door and got in.

Just hitching a ride with you, what's the problem, still need to show off?

When we reach Tuen Mun, let me know.

Saying that, he lay down and closed his eyes.

The driver glanced at the item at his waist and muttered inwardly.

Just hitch a ride, what's the fuss? I even thought you were going to hijack the vehicle.

My truck carries only some farm produce, not worth much money.

That cargo kept grumbling on and on, noisy enough that Yang Qing couldn't rest.

He had to resort to broken Cantonese to deal with him.

Everyone passing through here are bastards; if I don't show my weapon, they treat me as if I don't exist.

Still, you kid understand things.

The driver felt offended.

Buddy, where do you hang out? So arrogant.

Yang Qing retorted.

Hanging out for nothing, I'm not a porter.

Where are you going, loser? You're clueless—I gave you a chance and you're useless.

The driver was left speechless by the retort, wanting to curse but not daring to.

We're in Tuen Mun, we've arrived—where do you want to go? Take a boat.

Yang Qing gave him a contemptuous glance and a smile.

I'm calling you a loser, and you still aren't convinced.

Why do I have to take a boat? Can't someone come pick me up?

Not conspicuous at all.

Find a place with a phone, let me off—I'll have someone come pick me up.

Kid, you may be unlucky, but you've met a benefactor—wait for me to give you some money, so you can also live it up.

The driver didn't believe it.

Really or not, don't mess with me.