Chapter 37: The Heart of the Wasteland's Arsenal

"This is my munitions factory. Hundreds of workers labor here, crafting those small metallic marvels destined for the hands of heroes or villains. Let's skip the tour inside—it's unbearably hot in there, not fit for humans."

That statement seemed a bit contradictory, Jiang Chen mused.

Zhao Chenwu gestured toward the bustling facility with a proud grin. The sight reminded Jiang Chen of developers back in the modern world, exuding the same mix of enthusiasm and ambition.

"And over here," Zhao added, pointing to a smaller facility nearby, "we produce the high-end stuff—like .50 caliber automated sentry guns. Most of the gear on the inner perimeter walls? Built right here."

As they reached the second building, noticeably smaller but brimming with precision, Zhao tapped the air with the hand holding his cigarette.

In the apocalypse, cigarettes were far from rare. Alcohol production suffered from grain shortages, but tobacco thrived. The intense, spicy aroma of wasteland tobacco was an acquired taste—not everyone could tolerate it. Radiation had mutated life forms worldwide, yet not all mutations were detrimental. Wasteland tobacco adapted seamlessly to the harsh soil, requiring minimal cultivation effort, making it widely affordable. Many survivors grew it near their homes for both medicinal and recreational use.

Jiang Chen winced slightly at the cigarette's acrid scent, drawing a hearty laugh from Zhao. "No worries, my friend. If you can't handle it, toss it." Zhao himself wasn't entirely accustomed to the mild flavor of Jiang Chen's "Zhonghua" cigarettes either, grumbling they lacked the punch he preferred.

"I must say, automated weaponry piques my interest," Jiang Chen commented as he observed a technician in a white lab coat using a tablet to calibrate a waist-high turret. The weapon swiveled with surgical precision, spewing rounds at a target in the test chamber.

"Of course, but here's the thing—production's slow. The Sixth District is upgrading its northern checkpoint, and orders are backlogged for two months," Zhao explained with a casual shrug.

"That's fine," Jiang Chen replied, smiling.

As they strolled through the technologically advanced factory, Jiang Chen's astonishment grew. The facility housed magnetic levitation drones no larger than a frisbee and partially assembled two-meter-tall power armor.

But as Zhao had mentioned, production was painstakingly slow. Military-grade equipment was prioritized during the war, leaving post-apocalyptic scavengers with scant hope of finding intact assembly lines.

Most of the work here relied on manual craftsmanship. Jiang Chen watched a laborer meticulously hammer a glowing piece of armor plating into shape, while another carefully installed minuscule electronic components inside the suit. Tasks once performed by automated precision machines now fell to human hands.

Mass-producing bullets was relatively straightforward, but assembling advanced gear like power armor was an entirely different story.

Even so, the survivors' firepower was undeniably impressive. Zombies could be taken down with a single well-aimed shot, and even the razor-sharp claws of Deathclaws had their match in tanks.

Yet, despite humanity's formidable arsenal, they had failed to reclaim the cities overrun by bloodthirsty mutants and the undead. The thought left Jiang Chen somber. What horrors still lurked in the city center?

"These weapons? Some go to my private militia, some to the Sixth District's army, and others to interested buyers. But things like power armor and heavy weaponry—spider tanks, for instance—are off-limits unless approved by the Sixth District Council," Zhao explained. His tone carried a note of preemptive caution, as though Jiang Chen might be tempted to request forbidden gear.

"So, you're essentially an arms dealer?" Jiang Chen teased with a grin.

"Half-dealer, half-entrepreneur," Zhao chuckled. "I also own a pharmaceutical plant and dabble in real estate within the inner district. If you're ever looking to buy property, come find me!"

With a hearty laugh, he picked up a circular gauntlet from a nearby table and tossed it to Jiang Chen.

"For a man who's always on the move, this nitrogen shield is my gift to you."

"Then I'll gratefully accept," Jiang Chen replied, strapping the device to his arm. He glanced at Zhao, silently asking how it worked.

Zhao beckoned to a nearby soldier, who quickly saluted and stepped into the test chamber. The soldier activated the shield, releasing dense waves of shimmering nitrogen that formed a bowl-shaped barrier.

A mounted heavy machine gun fired at the shield, its bullets ricocheting harmlessly. The soldier crouched behind the protective dome, unfazed by the onslaught.

"Damn, it's like a personal force field!" Jiang Chen exclaimed.

"Exactly," Zhao said with a grin. "It works through an inert atom vortex effect, creating a high-pressure nitrogen flow. Or something like that—leave the theories to the scientists. I only care about results. Satisfied?"

"Very much so. Are there any limitations?" Jiang Chen asked as he examined the gauntlet.

"Well, it guzzles power. One shard of A-crystal gives you a minute of use, and the core overheats after ten seconds of continuous operation. Plus, it's not very effective against lasers or particle weapons, but it does a great job against kinetic attacks," Zhao explained, blowing a smoke ring.

"I'm impressed your factory even has research capabilities for equipment like this," Jiang Chen remarked.

"Of course! Though honestly, there's not much demand for it—too expensive for most folks. My scientists are working on integrating the tech into power armor, but that's their headache, not mine."

－

After leaving the munitions factory, Zhao took Jiang Chen to a smaller pharmaceutical plant. The facility wasn't large, but it produced gene therapies that dominated 30% of the Sixth District's market. Other popular products included adrenaline shots and blood stimulants, essential in the wasteland.

Their final stop was the gates of the slums.

There, a bald, overweight man named Wang Yi rushed out to greet them, bowing so deeply it seemed comical. His obsequious demeanor should have been irritating, but it was oddly tolerable—perhaps a testament to his survival skills. Flattery alone wouldn't keep someone thriving in the apocalypse.

Zhao spared him only a brief glance before resuming his conversation with Jiang Chen. Meanwhile, Zhao's secretary, Su Lei, handed Wang a document from her bag. After nervously accepting it, Wang scurried off to his office, soon returning with a stack of papers.

Chapter 26: The Middleman's Game

"Welcome, you must be Mr. Jiang Chen, the mysterious friend from the East," a Caucasian man with golden curls greeted Jiang Chen with a hearty laugh as he entered. He awkwardly performed a martial arts bow, a move seemingly learned from some Chinese kung fu movie.

Although Caucasian, Roberts didn't have particularly pale skin; his rough complexion looked like it had rolled in sand. However, his neat appearance and polite manners conveyed a sense of respect.

"A pleasure to meet you. You must be Mr. Roberts. Bruce has told me a lot about you," Jiang Chen responded with a peculiar expression, returning the bow with a smile.

Honestly, seeing a foreigner greet you with what they thought was a "Chinese greeting" was somewhat comical, no matter how you looked at it.

"Bruce is a good guy. He once took a bullet for me in the Middle East. I'm delighted to meet him again here. Haha, there's a Chinese proverb, isn't there? A friend of a friend is a friend of mine. Am I right?" Roberts extended his hand.

"Absolutely correct. Your Chinese is impressive, Mr. Roberts," Jiang Chen said, shaking his hand and genuinely admiring his language skills.

Well, he wasn't entirely sure if it was a proverb, but...

"Haha, of course! I've always been fascinated by this mysterious Eastern country. There are opportunities everywhere here," Roberts said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm as he invited Jiang Chen in with a gentlemanly gesture. "Please, come in, my friend. I have a bottle of '82 Lafite just waiting for us to enjoy."

"Then I shall not refuse," Jiang Chen replied, bowing once more.

Unlike the new wines in the villa, this dark red liquid had a rich, aromatic scent. Even Jiang Chen, who wasn't much of a wine drinker, couldn't help but secretly marvel, "Good wine indeed!"

A man standing by, like a statue, gave off a wild, beast-like aura, though he remained motionless. His Slavic features were evident through his sunglasses, with high cheekbones and a prominent nose, exuding the air of a "bear" from a combat nation.

"My bodyguard, Nick Kaczynski, from Belarus. We met in Ukraine. He's a good guy, responsible for my security," Roberts said, noticing Jiang Chen's gaze. "Although Bruce is nice, Blackwater International isn't always so... ethical. They're too close to the FBI, so I've switched business partners."

Even while being discussed, the statue-like bodyguard showed no change in demeanor.

"Your business sounds dangerous," Jiang Chen said, leaning back in his chair with a casual tone. "Bruce mentioned you're a famous middleman in America. Oil and gold?"

"That's right. Besides relatively safe commodities like crude oil and gold, sometimes I have to deal with more... dangerous items like weapons. Once you touch these things, someone always wants your life."

Roberts lit a cigar and offered one to Jiang Chen. "Your country has strict gun control. Here, it's like a vacation for me. But good times are fleeting; I have a flight to South Africa at three."

"Isn't that a bit tight?" Jiang Chen glanced at the clock; it was already eleven.

"Not at all," Roberts waved it off with a smile. "I'm very interested in Mr. Jiang Chen's business. Is there any way I can be of service?"

Jiang Chen paused, flicking ash off his cigar. "I hope you don't mind, my friend, but I accidentally overheard your conversation with Bruce at the banquet. It was purely by chance. But don't business opportunities always arise from chance? You know, I've always been interested in business with the Far East, though everything is still in the exploratory stage... My intuition tells me we can definitely find common ground for cooperation."

"Oh?" Jiang Chen, rather than condemning the eavesdropping, raised an eyebrow with interest. "For example?"

"Mr. Jiang Chen, you likely settle your transactions in gold, right? But as I understand, your country's laws and tight regulations mean selling large amounts of gold would surely attract government attention, especially if it's undocumented."

"It seems Mr. Roberts knows quite a bit about our situation. But isn't selling gold in the U.S. problematic too?" Jiang Chen chuckled, neither confirming nor denying.

"It is, but we deal with laws and evidence, not politics. I have a professional team to handle such issues. Even with a small dispute with the FBI recently, I'm still free, aren't I?" Roberts flicked cigar ash, smiling mysteriously. "Let me give you an example. I registered a shell company in Saudi Arabia. I brought crude oil from Iran, which is illegal under embargo agreements. But if I route that oil through my shell company in Saudi, it soon appears legally on the international market."

Aren't you worried about being bugged, telling me all this?

But then Jiang Chen realized that with such a formidable bodyguard, counter-surveillance measures would surely be in place.

Jiang Chen immediately understood what Mr. Roberts meant.

So, this middleman also deals in illicit goods. Interesting.

"It seems we do have potential for cooperation," Jiang Chen said with a smile.

"I'm an honest businessman," Roberts said, beaming as the deal was made. "No matter the quantity, I can handle it. Your gold can go through a process at my mining company in South Africa and appear legally on the international market. Of course, you don't need to worry about the specifics; you can sell the gold directly to me. I only charge a 9% service fee."

Jiang Chen pondered for a moment.

A 9% service fee wasn't too high, considering his gold came at no cost. While small amounts could be sold at regular gold shops, selling tens of tons would be too risky. Even selling in batches would increase the risk of scrutiny. And that Liu Anshan guy... he had an uneasy feeling about him. Likely not clean, but he hadn't acted yet due to uncertainty.

Caution was key, although smuggling large amounts of gold out of the country was technically illegal, Roberts seemed to have ways to deal with such issues.

Seeing Jiang Chen's silence, Roberts was unsure. Maybe the 9% fee was a bit high, but his business wasn't without risk. Just preparing the funds was a hassle. If the transaction exceeded twenty million dollars, even selling all his assets wouldn't cover it. To make this deal, he'd have to scramble for private loans, which wouldn't be cheap.

However, if Jiang Chen's gold was in significant quantities, there was room to negotiate the fee down by a point.

Just as Roberts was about to offer a lower price, Jiang Chen spoke up.

"No problem, but I have a condition."

Roberts was initially surprised, then delighted.

"The quality of the gold I can guarantee, it's 24K, pure gold. I'm sure you have experts to verify that." Of course, fake gold would be sold, not stored in bank vaults! "But, you'll handle the logistics. I'll only get the gold to a specific location within the country. And the gold will be exchanged for cash on the spot; once it leaves my hands, its safety is your responsibility."

"No problem! My friend," Roberts agreed promptly. "Looks like we've got a deal?"

"Indeed, pleasure doing business with you," Jiang Chen extended his right hand.

"Pleasure doing business," Roberts shook Jiang Chen's hand, both standing up.

"Here's my card. Call me when you're ready to set up a time. Also, it might be convenient to have a Swiss bank account."

"Of course, and best wishes for your business," Jiang Chen accepted the card.

"May I ask in advance? How much gold do you have, so I can prepare the necessary funds?"

"Oh, no rush. I'll call you around July 15th. As for the quantity, it's roughly a few tons."

Jiang Chen left the room, leaving Roberts in a state of shock, his expensive cigar unnoticed on the floor.

A few tons? How many tons exactly?

At current market rates, one ounce of gold was worth $1,350. A ton of gold would be $43,402,500! At a 9% service fee, three tons would net him millions! This was going to make him rich!

The possibility of lying down and making money was overwhelming.

A few tons of gold... even at 7% fee, he'd do it. What level of wealth would make someone not even bother to bargain? It confirmed his suspicion that this gold was indeed illicit.

What kind of business could produce so much gold? Did he rob the Shanghai Gold Exchange?

"...Hiss, God," Roberts finally snapped out of his daze, taking a sharp breath. "Good heavens, this is going to make us rich."

Flipping ten thousand tons of crude oil would net only around $500,000, with the risk of being seized by the US Navy or investigated by the FBI. Yet Jiang Chen had just committed to a transaction worth billions.

"Nick, do you think this Eastern friend is reliable?" Roberts asked softly, as if in a dream, knowing Nick didn't understand business matters. He just needed someone to ground him.

"Sorry, boss, I'm not very knowledgeable," Nick shook his head as expected. After a moment, he added, "But this Eastern man... he's dangerous."

"Oh? Is he a kung fu master?" Roberts chuckled, striking a Bruce Lee pose, not believing in such things.

Nick watched his boss's antics, shaking his head. He knew Roberts; whenever he was excited, he'd do something odd to express it.

"With a soldier's instinct, he might be tougher than Bruce," Nick said seriously, his duty being Roberts's safety.

Roberts paused, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Isn't he just a businessman? ...No, I must have misjudged."

Nick hesitated, then continued.

"He might be a businessman, but his skills are not to be underestimated. My gut tells me, if he's unarmed, I'd have only a fifty percent chance of winning."

Roberts was stunned. He'd seen Nick in action before. During their time in Ukraine, when they were ambushed by insurgents while selling arms to the government, Nick had grabbed a gun from a fallen officer and, with just nine bullets, fought his way out, saving Roberts. He'd taken out over a dozen insurgents.

Now, Nick was suggesting Jiang Chen might be on par with him in hand-to-hand combat?

Suddenly, Roberts burst into laughter.

"The East truly is a mysterious place. Maybe we should visit Egypt next time? Hahaha..."

No wonder Jiang Chen didn't hire bodyguards; his own strength was formidable. In a country where guns were banned, being able to fight was enough.

But did Jiang Chen's fighting prowess matter to their deal?

Roberts was an honest businessman, believing in the long-term benefits of trust. He would never do anything that jeopardized his reputation.

Even when he saw children in African refugee camps with diamonds, he'd choose candy over bullets.

After all, a bullet was far more expensive than candy.

Roberts had no doubts about Jiang Chen's possession of several tons of gold or the ability to investigate him in China. What was business without risk?

He was willing to gamble. Jiang Chen's confident demeanor suggested he had the gold to back it up.

Besides, deceiving him would gain Jiang Chen nothing.