Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

In other words, the value of those gleaming, heavy blocks of metal piled up in the vaults of the Global Bank is equivalent to one-fifth of Hong Kong's total annual economic output! This is beyond description; it's as if a gold mine has sprung up out of nowhere in the heart of Hong Kong!

Central, top floor of the Jardine Matheson Building.

Outside the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows lay the densely packed buildings of Central and the shimmering Victoria Harbour in the distance. But at this moment, this bustling scene seemed shrouded in a veil of gloom in William Jennings' eyes. He was a typical Englishman, around fifty years old, with slicked-back hair, a meticulously trimmed mustache, and a perfectly pressed, dark suit. He held a glass of amber whiskey in his hand, the ice cubes clinking softly against the glass, but doing nothing to cool the restlessness within him. His gaze was sinister, fixed like a hawk's as he stared intently at the five-story building on Queen's Road in the distance, as if he wanted to burn two holes in it. As a senior partner at Jardine Matheson and a key figure in the British-owned Hong Kong Chamber of Commerce, he was accustomed to being in control, accustomed to the subservience of Chinese capital before them.

"Two hundred tons of gold," he muttered to himself, his voice low and hoarse with disbelief. "How could a Chinese man who's only been in Hong Kong for less than a year have so much gold? It's simply unbelievable!"

Behind him stood his secretary and intelligence chief, Jensen. Jensen was a man in his forties, slender, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes behind the lenses always gleaming with shrewdness and vigilance. He wore a well-fitting gray suit, appearing capable and understated.

"Sir, we've used every connection we have to investigate." Jason's voice was low and cautious. "This He Damin came from the mainland last year with his entire family. According to the fragmented information we've gathered from there, he previously ran a car repair shop in Beiping, and business was indeed quite good; he was a wealthy businessman. But..." He paused, his tone becoming even more certain, "It's absolutely impossible for him to have accumulated this much wealth. That's two hundred tons of gold, not two hundred silver dollars!"

"Where did all this gold come from?" Jennings whirled around, his whiskey glass trembling slightly in his hand, the liquor nearly spilling. His eyes were sharp as knives, as if he could see right through Jensen.

Jason shook his head helplessly, his brow furrowed behind his glasses. "I don't know, sir. We checked all his entry records, customs declarations, and even the transaction records of all his bank accounts in Hong Kong, but we found nothing. This gold is like... like it just appeared out of nowhere."

Jennings walked to the massive mahogany desk, downed the remaining whiskey in his glass in one gulp, the fiery liquid burning his throat. He turned around, his gaze so dark it seemed to drip water.

"Appeared out of nowhere? Humph!" He let out a cold laugh, filled with disdain and anger. "I don't care if he was dug out of the ground or fell from the sky! All I know is that a yellow-skinned monkey holding so much gold and daring to announce it so blatantly is a naked challenge to the status of our British-owned banks! It's a provocation against the order of the entire Hong Kong!"

He picked up a thick document from the table and slammed it down hard, making a dull thud.

"HSBC, Standard Chartered, and Yulin Bank—these three British-owned banks firmly control 80% of Hong Kong's deposit business and remittance channels. Now, suddenly, a Chinese-owned bank management company appears out of nowhere, claiming to have 200 tons of gold reserves. Guess what those foolish depositors will think?"

Jason remained silent; he knew perfectly well what was going to happen. In these turbulent times, gold was the hardest currency and the safest guarantee.

Seeing that he remained silent, Jennings sneered and answered for him: "They'll think that Chinese-owned banks are safer! They'll think that depositing money in a bank backed by two hundred tons of gold is much more secure than depositing it in these 'empty shells' like us! They'll withdraw their money from us and flood into that Chinese bank like a tidal wave!"

He pulled a large Cuban cigar from his cigar box, lit it with a gold-plated lighter, took a deep drag, and thick smoke billowed from his nostrils, blurring his face, which was contorted with anger.

"This kind of thing absolutely cannot be allowed to happen!" His voice was firm and decisive, carrying an unquestionable tone of command.

In an inconspicuous old building in Kowloon City.

Unlike the glitz and glamour of Central, Kowloon City appears crowded and chaotic. A complex mix of smells permeates the air: the aroma of cheap food, the fishy smell of the sea, and the stench of rotting garbage. This old building is tucked away deep in a narrow, damp alley. There are no signs at the entrance, only an inconspicuous wooden door with peeling, faded red paint.

Inside the building, the air was thick with smoke, making it almost impossible to open one's eyes. In the dim light, several greasy square tables were haphazardly placed, with playing cards and empty bottles of cheap liquor scattered on them.

Chan Yiu-hing, the head of the "Wo Shing Wo" triad, sat with his legs crossed, exuding an air of authority, in an old-fashioned rosewood armchair. In his early fifties, he was exceptionally muscular, like a black bear poised to pounce. A black silk jacket clung tightly to his body, outlining his strong muscles. His face was covered in thick, fleshy features, with particularly striking triangular eyes that revealed the shrewdness and ruthlessness honed by years of experience in the underworld. At that moment, he held a crumpled copy of the *Hong Kong Evening Post* in his hand; the front page headline was about the global bank's gold reserves.

"Two hundred tons of gold..." Chen Yaoxing slammed the newspaper down on the greasy table with a loud thud, the sound so loud it made the empty wine bottles on the table shake. He looked up, his triangular eyes sweeping over the trusted men standing before him. "Brothers, do you know how much that is?"

The leaders of the other branches exchanged bewildered glances, their faces filled with shock and greed. They were all seasoned veterans of the underworld, having seen much of the world, but the figure of "two hundred tons of gold" still made them feel dizzy.

Chen Yaoxing held up five short, stubby fingers and waved them in front of everyone: "This number!"

"Five million?" A greenhorn who had just taken office and whose face still showed signs of naivety blurted out, his tone full of uncertainty.

"Five million my foot!" Chen Yaoxing slapped him hard on the back of the head, making the hothead stagger. "Have you ever seen money before? It's five hundred million! At least five hundred million Hong Kong dollars!"

"hiss--"

Gasps of astonishment filled the air. Five hundred million Hong Kong dollars! This was an astronomical figure they couldn't even imagine. Although Wo Shing Wo was one of the top gangs in Hong Kong, with numerous henchmen and a vast territory, their main sources of income were protection money, running gambling dens, and operating a few shady entertainment venues. They were lucky to earn a few million a year, working themselves to the bone. Five hundred million—that was a sum Wo Shing Wo couldn't earn in ten, even twenty years!

"Boss," a middle-aged man with a hideous scar on his face said in a deep voice. He was Chen Yaoxing's right-hand man, in charge of the gang's operations, and was known as "Scarface Six." His voice was hoarse but steady. "That Global Bank, I heard their security is extremely tight. I sent people to scout it out. The vault in their headquarters building has walls over a meter thick, all reinforced concrete, and the door is a specially made blast door, supposedly weighing eight tons! Ordinary explosives can't break it open. Plus, they keep a lot of thugs inside, each one a highly skilled fighter."

"Of course I know!" Chen Yaoxing narrowed his triangular eyes, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table, making a "tap-tap" sound. "If it were that easy to succeed, would we be here discussing this? So, we can't rely on brute force; we have to outsmart them!"

He stood up and began pacing in the cramped space. His steps were heavy, and with each step, the wooden floorboards creaked and groaned as if they could not bear the weight.

"I've already had someone find out. The big boss behind that bank is called Ho Ta-ming. He lives in a mansion on Victoria Peak and rarely goes out. He has many bodyguards and is very difficult to approach." He paused, a sly glint in his eyes. "But he has an older brother named Ho Ta-ching. He recently bought a building in Wan Chai and seems to be planning to open a restaurant, something like... 'Ta-ching Restaurant'."

He stopped, turned to look at his men, a fierce glint in his triangular eyes: "Sixth Brother!"

"Boss!" Scarface Six immediately stepped forward and bowed in response.

"Take a few men and go to that 'Daqing Restaurant' and cause some trouble for me," Chen Yaoxing ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Remember, the bigger the commotion, the better. Ideally, you should lure out that He Damin. Doesn't he dote on his older brother? He can't just ignore something happening to his brother!"

Scarface Six nodded, a cruel smile creeping across his face: "Understood! I'll make sure this gets out of hand!"

"Remember!" Chen Yaoxing suddenly raised his voice, warning, "Don't actually hurt anyone, especially that He Daqing. He's still useful! If he's going to cause trouble, make him cause as much trouble as possible! Make his business fail, make him anxious and frustrated, let him know how powerful Wo Shing Wo is! Make him unable to hold on any longer, and he'll naturally go after his rich younger brother, He Damin. Then..."

He didn't continue, but just smiled sinisterly, a smile full of greed and calculation.

"...Let's talk to him about the two hundred tons of gold later!"