Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

Shen Hanzhou is an interesting person.

One person turned the entire underground world of Guangyang City upside down.

Hunted by three parties, he ran all night, then turned the tables and killed six of Fang Li's men, arranging their bodies in a show of defiance.

This is the first one in so many years.

Old Yan stubbed out his cigarette in the enamel mug and lit another one.

He began to wonder what this chaos had to do with him.

He was an information broker.

With limited resources, they couldn't possibly conduct a province-wide manhunt like larger forces.

He has nothing.

But he also has something that the three major powers don't have.

A network of intelligence built up over twenty years. Sources of information from the bulk cargo distribution channels.

I have a relationship with Shen Hanzhou.

Old Yan tapped his fingers on the counter more slowly.

What if Shen Hanzhou needs intelligence? He's been hunted for four days and four nights; he's definitely lacking information.

The Five Mountains Society's deployment, the Xiongbei Society's movements, and the blind spots in Chiji's surveillance—these are all things that intelligence brokers can provide.

What if Shen Hanzhou needs raw material sources? He hasn't finished making that batch of medicine and needs specific raw materials.

He can't get involved in bulk sales channels, and he doesn't dare to touch legitimate lawyers and suppliers, but he knows at least five suppliers who can ship goods privately through the bulk sales channel.

What if some broker gets hold of the clues and tries to resell them? With 80 million in front of them, someone is bound to dig something out of it.

The person who gets caught won't go directly to the three major powers; instead, they'll find a middleman, a trusted broker in an encrypted channel to act as an intermediary.

The more Lao Yan thought about it, the more he felt there was a place for him to intervene in this chaotic battle.

We just don't know where that location is yet.

It's unknown who Shen Hanzhou will contact first, which clue will surface first, and whose pocket will ultimately receive the 80 million.

Old Yan decided to disregard everything else and focus on making thorough preparations.

He pulled out a pistol from under the counter, removed the magazine to check it, loaded it with bullets, and reloaded it.

The crisp snapping sound was particularly clear in the quiet repair shop.

He placed the gun on his right, within easy reach.

He then took out a spare phone from the drawer, plugged it in, and switched the screen to the shortcut dialing interface for contact points with other forces. He could make a call with a single press.

One last thing he did was turn the new message notification sound on the encrypted channel up to the maximum.

From now on, he will be able to know about any news or developments immediately.

After doing all this, Lao Yan leaned back in his chair, feeling a little more at ease.

He didn't know if he could get a piece of the pie in this chaotic battle, but he knew one thing—whoever was prepared first would get ahead of the others.

With 80 million hanging in the balance, the opportunity is only for those who act quickly.

Old Yan placed the gun beside him, his spare phone screen lit up, and the encrypted channel's new message notification sounded every now and then.

With nothing else to do, he started to think about his interactions with Shen Hanzhou over the past few years.

A thought popped into his mind—if someone else were worth 80 million, he wouldn't even blink.

It just so happens to be Shen Hanzhou.

Three years ago, Lao Yan received a private message on a private channel.

Signed Shen Hanzhou, he requested a logistics route map that could bypass the Five Mountains Association's inspection.

Old Yan had never heard of this person before, but he quoted a price according to the rules.

The other party didn't argue, paid in full on the spot, and the transfer record was clean.

Old Yan thought to himself, "This guy is either stupid or he's really rich."

It was later discovered that it was the latter—Shen Hanzhou synthesized prohibited drugs for the Five Mountains Alliance, and he was efficient and never delayed payment.

We collaborated five or six more times after that, all for information on the sources of prohibited drug ingredients.

Shen Hanzhou never minces words when placing orders. He clearly states what he wants, how much he wants, and when he wants it in just three sentences.

They pay quickly, use the intelligence as soon as they get it, and then pretend it never happened, never revealing the source of the intelligence after something goes wrong.

This is what the old smoker is most satisfied with.

In the underground world of selling intelligence, the worst thing isn't that the customer won't pay, but that the customer will implicate the source of the intelligence after something happens to them.

In the past twenty years, he has seen too many people confess their connections because they couldn't withstand torture, and in the end, the whole group of people were ruined.

Shen Hanzhou wouldn't. This guy knows the rules, and his mouth is tighter than an old smoker's.

Old Yan knew very well that there were few people like that in the underworld.

You might not meet one in three years; if you do, you've struck gold.

On one occasion, the old smoker deliberately raised the price significantly.

That time, when Shen Hanzhou needed a list of suppliers for regulated solvents, Lao Yan quoted a price that was 30% higher than usual.

What I was thinking was to test whether this person was easy to manipulate. If he was, I could keep him as a valued customer and slowly take advantage of him.

Shen Hanzhou replied with just five words: "Quote the actual price next time."

His tone was neither angry nor polite, and then he paid as instructed.

After reading the message, Lao Yan understood immediately—this person saw through his tricks, didn't bother with him, and only cared about whether the matter could be accomplished.

Consider the extra money you paid as a lesson learned.

From that time on, Lao Yan mentally labeled Shen Hanzhou as someone who could achieve great things.

As the number of transactions increased, a superficial familiarity developed between the two.

Once, Shen Hanzhou placed an order late at night, after 2 a.m.

Old Yan was working overtime organizing a batch of logistics information when he casually asked in the chat box, "Don't you Five Mountains Society members sleep?"

Shen Hanzhou replied, "You weren't asleep either."

That's the level of friendship we have.

They weren't exactly friends, but they were more than just customers.

You can chat casually outside of the transaction, without having to be polite to each other. Just get straight to the point and call it a day once it's done.

Old Yan had described the relationship as follows: Shen Hanzhou was his long-term client, well-mannered, never late on payments, and tight-lipped. He admired the man, but owed him nothing.

Business is business.

The memory ends.

Old Yan looked up and glanced at the wooden sign on the wall that read "Twenty Years of Honest Business Practices".

That sign has been up for ten years, and everyone who has seen it says that Lao Yan is reliable.

Police have come to investigate, and competitors have come to test him. New customers always ask "Can this old smoker be trusted?" before their first transaction. The answer is always the same: "Old smoker keeps his mouth shut, expensive but worth it."

Old Yan stared at the sign for a few seconds, but his heart remained completely unmoved.

He mentally reviewed his reputation over the past twenty years.

When people talk about him, they all say the same thing—"He's a heavy smoker, expensive but worth it."

He hasn't caused any trouble in twenty years, and I've never heard of him betraying any employer in twenty years.

This is the signboard of his restaurant; it's valuable, very valuable.

He knows best how he built up this reputation.

It's not because of his good character.

He never considered himself a good person; someone who had been in the underworld for twenty years couldn't possibly be associated with the word "good person."

He's just waiting for a price high enough.

Previously, the highest bounty I handled was five million, but five million isn't worth ruining my reputation.

His signboard is worth at least five million. Smashing the signboard to exchange for five million is not a worthwhile deal.

But 80 million is different.

Eighty million is sixteen times the price of the signboard.

Old Yan told himself a profound truth.

They kept quiet because the price wasn't right.