Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

Gravitational waves spread globally from the abandoned airport.

This time, the coverage area far exceeds that of the group that only targeted one hideout in Mengka a few hours earlier.

There are 650,000 main karmic threads, which in turn lead to more than 400,000 branch threads.

Those wicked people who sheltered them, the officers waiting for their paychecks in military camps across Myanmar, the middlemen shuttling between Yangon and Bangkok, the money laundering experts managing offshore accounts in Dubai and Singapore...

Those technicians who change the prefixes in the operator's data center, the moles who pull out immigration records in the express delivery department, the programmers who write phishing website code in office buildings, the middlemen who collect bank cards from door to door in rural areas...

One after another, figures rose up from all over the world.

Every minute and every second, their figures are indistinct in the darkness of the night, only dark outlines rising from all directions on the horizon, crossing borders, crossing oceans, traversing the night sky of different time zones, converging towards the same center.

Even late at night, the cyberspace remains bustling with activity.

"Over a million! A whole million! What are we going to do about this?!"

The first reaction of netizens in Da Yang was very pragmatic: the scale is too large, and it is highly likely that they can only be dealt with leniently.

Some immediately questioned: "Lighter treatment? Impossible! How much money have these people swindled? How many families have been bankrupted by them? What about those who were kidnapped, abused, raped, or beaten to death in the park? Are we just going to let it go like this?"

Opposition aside, the reality is what we face.

Someone posted data from the past few years with a sense of helplessness: It's not like Da Yang hasn't cracked down hard before; tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands, have returned in several batches, either repatriated or surrendered, and almost all of them received lenient sentences. It's not that they didn't want to punish severely, but they simply couldn't handle it. Where would they put tens of thousands more? Prison beds are limited, detention centers are already operating beyond capacity, and court case files are piled higher than people. They couldn't even handle hundreds of thousands, let alone over a million now.

Immediately, people followed up with specific questions: Where is the largest prison in Dayang? How many people can it hold?

Soon, someone explained that the largest prison in Da Yang is Xining Prison in Qinghai Province. The prison covers 1200 acres and cost over 200 million yuan to build, with a maximum capacity of approximately 4500 people. Even if Xining Prison were demolished and rebuilt into a hundred-story dormitory, it wouldn't be able to hold even a fraction of the more than one million inmates.

The total inmate capacity of the national prison system is approximately between 160 million and 190 million, and the 681 prisons across the country are operating at almost full capacity.

With this group of people already crammed in, how are other cases across the country supposed to be handled?

What's more troublesome is that among these more than one million people, there are a large number of foreigners, involving the jurisdiction of dozens of countries. Just going through the procedures of identifying nationalities, verifying identities, and notifying embassies and consulates would take several years to complete.

After screening, there is still interrogation, trial, transfer, and repatriation. Each step involves an astronomical amount of work.

The barrage of comments was filled with indignation, and various civilized terms poured out.

At this critical moment, our American friends stepped forward: "Give it to us! Our private prisons aren't afraid of having too many people, they're afraid of not having enough clients." Two judges in Pennsylvania, in order to recruit more children for their private prisons, accepted bribes from the prison operator and imprisoned over two thousand minors—the youngest being only eight years old—for "insulting the principal on social media."

Some people are curious: what are some successful solutions for dealing with criminal groups of this size in history?

Of course!

Netizens, always eager for drama, immediately compiled a list:

Soviet Siberia, the bathhouses of Auschwitz, imported sugarcane knives in Rwanda, the de-urbanization of the Khmer Rouge...

As long as the mind does not slip, there are always more solutions than difficulties!

--------

Tengger Lake.

The engineering command center for the Tengger Lake Hub is a row of temporary prefabricated houses with gray corrugated steel exterior walls and blue roofs. A national flag hangs on the flagpole in front of the door, fluttering in the grassland wind.

The prefabricated house is surrounded by a newly leveled open space, piled with steel pipes, precast cement components, and several rows of unopened diesel generators.

The night at the construction site is not dark.

Sixteen searchlight towers are lined up along the southern edge of the rift valley, each topped with four sets of LED lights. The snow-white beams of light crisscross and pierce the night, illuminating the entire construction area as bright as day.

Under the light, the excavator's bucket rose and fell, each turn casting a dark shadow in the light screen.

The bulldozers advanced side by side, their tracks grinding over the gravel, producing a continuous, low grinding sound.

Dump trucks lined up on the temporary access road, their headlights forming a flowing ribbon of light that stretched from the excavation area to the spoil heap several kilometers away.

The roar of engines, the clanging of metal, and the hoarse dispatching voices from walkie-talkies mingled together, rolling in the night wind of the grassland.

Further away, deep within the rift valley, on a 500-meter-high cut surface, countless waterfalls continue to cascade down day and night.

The water mist was illuminated from below by spotlights at the bottom of the valley, making the entire rift valley look like a burning white abyss.

The scene inside the prefabricated houses is quite different.

The meeting room was small and filled with smoke.

A folding table, a few plastic chairs, and a site plan of the project nailed to the wall, marked with dense symbols in red and blue pencils: red for completed, blue for in progress, and black for not yet started.

Old Deng stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

The ashtray was a cut-open aluminum can, already stuffed with seven or eight cigarette butts.

He was the head of the human resources group at the project command center. He was 45 years old and had half of his hair left, half of which was white.

On the table in front of him was a staff attendance statistics sheet. He had looked at the numbers on it no less than twenty times today, and each time they hadn't changed.

"As of 8 p.m. tonight, the staff attendance rate is about 60%. At the current pace, the earthwork and foundation pouring can barely hold on, but next week formwork and rebar binding will be fully rolled out, at which time at least 8,000 people will be needed on site."

"There is currently a shortage of about three thousand people."

175 is not enough, I'll ask for more.

“Three thousand is not bad,” said Engineer Sun from the materials team, sitting on the right. “Our materials team has a bigger shortage. We can still rely on the railway for cement and steel bars, but we have been without sand and gravel for two days. The nearest sand and gravel yard is fifty kilometers away from the construction site. The road is a dirt road, and with the rain these past two days, vehicles can’t get in at all.”

"Don't bring up supplies," Old Deng waved his hand. "Today is a recruitment meeting. If you want to bring up supplies, you can apply for another meeting."

Mr. Sun took off his glasses, wiped them with the corner of his clothes, put them back on, and remained silent.

"Have you checked the nearby villages?" The one who spoke was Old Ma, the captain of the construction team. He was in his fifties and had spent most of his life working on construction sites. He was one of the most qualified people in the room to speak.

“They’ve run away.” Old Deng opened his notebook, which was filled with various numbers. “They’ve gone to every household in the seventeen villages within a radius of fifty kilometers in the four directions of east, west, south, and north. There are about two hundred people who are willing to come, and most of them are already at the construction site.”

"More than two hundred?" Old Ma frowned. "More than two hundred people were recruited from seventeen villages?"

“The situation is different.” Old Deng turned a page in his notebook. “We inlanders have an old impression that the grassland area is economically backward. In fact, only the industry is backward. The herders themselves are not poor… A family has several hundred sheep. At the current sheep price, they can make a steady income by selling cashmere and mutton and growing some hay. They have their own pastures, livestock, and houses. Their lives are much more comfortable than those of the workers on our construction team.”

As he spoke, Old Deng took a sip of water: "The wages we pay are considered high in the engineering industry... National-level projects have ample budgets, and the wage standards are at least 20% higher than those of ordinary infrastructure projects. But compared to the income of herders themselves, there's no significant advantage. Asking them to leave their pastures and livestock at home to come to the construction site to carry steel bars and pour concrete, only to be able to go home a few times every two or three months, is hardly something they'd be willing to do for that little extra money."

"Where did these two hundred or so come from?" Old Ma asked.

"It was all done through hard work," Old Deng put down his cup. "The cadres from the Sumu and Gacha went door-to-door to talk to people. They talked about national projects, strategic passages, and how the completed canal and lake would benefit the grasslands and future generations. People came because of the country and the future. An old herdsman told me that more than a dozen people from their Gacha came this time, all young people, to broaden their horizons and, incidentally, to help out at home. Listen carefully: incidentally! They don't rely on this salary to support their families at all."

“Then… recruit from the mainland,” Old Ma said again.

"You think they didn't go?" Old Deng flipped through a page of his notebook. "The labor service company issued a notice, and recruitment information was posted in talent markets in several provinces. It was also sent to WeChat groups, but the effect wasn't very good."

"what reason?"

“They couldn’t adapt to the climate,” Old Deng closed his notebook and leaned back. “We recently recruited a group of about two hundred people from the coast, but a third of them left after a week. They couldn’t stand the climate; it was too dry, with strong winds and sandstorms, and a large temperature difference between day and night. They also couldn’t get used to the food… We have rice and noodles here, but the flavors are strong. The workers from the south turned green as soon as they saw the pickled vegetable and dumpling soup.”

"What's wrong with the soup?" Old Ma asked.

“Salted vegetable and dumpling soup,” Old Deng said, “They thought it was soup with salted vegetables, but it was actually salted vegetable soup with dumpling dough.”

"That's edible too."

"Look at what you're saying, edible? You think this is pig feed!"

There was a moment of silence in the conference room.

The food problem was a real issue. The construction site had tried various methods, but the communal meals were difficult to satisfy everyone's tastes. The southern workers complained that the food was too salty, while the local workers complained that it was too bland. Every time it was mealtime, you could hear some complaints at the canteen entrance.

"Also, we can try to solve the food problem as much as possible," Old Deng put down his enamel cup. "Extreme weather is the one thing we really can't do anything about."

Upon hearing this, the faces of the construction team leaders all darkened.

“It’s the height of summer now, and it’s a bit hot during the day, but at least we can get some work done. Once October is over, the winds on the grasslands won’t be so pleasant,” Old Deng said, flipping through his notebook to a page with a folded corner.

"Last winter, a weather station less than 100 kilometers from our construction site recorded an extreme low temperature of minus 42 degrees Celsius. The average temperature in December is around minus 25 degrees Celsius, and January is even colder. There are an average of seven or eight days a month with gale-force winds of level 10 or above."

"In this kind of weather, let alone people, even diesel engines need preheaters to start, and the hydraulic oil in excavators is frozen solid. Tower cranes have to stop when the wind speed exceeds level eight, concrete pouring requires insulation measures, and even steel bars have to be preheated, otherwise they will crack as soon as they are welded."

“Minus forty degrees Celsius,” Engineer Sun pushed his glasses up, “our equipment can withstand low-temperature conditions, but people can’t.”

“Those southerners really can’t come,” Old Ma said, taking his hand off his stomach. “Back home, people have to wear down jackets in the winter, except when they’re sleeping… It’s a problem…”

“That’s exactly the point.” Old Deng flipped to the last page of his notebook and pointed to a line of numbers. “So we have to grab the window of opportunity to hire people right now. From now until the end of October, there are about a hundred days left in the golden period for construction. In these hundred days, we must finish all the concrete pouring that can be done.”

"After winter sets in, we can only do indoor installations and equipment debugging, which are still barely possible in low temperatures, but the efficiency is reduced by at least half. By December and January, apart from necessary maintenance and inspections, we basically have to stop working."

"In other words, the three thousand people we are currently short must be in place before winter. Even if we have to let them rest during the winter and only pay them basic wages, we must get them here first. Otherwise, if we have to recruit again next spring, it will be too late."

At the far end of the conference table, Xiao Zhao, who hadn't spoken until now, suddenly coughed.

Xiao Zhao's full name is Zhao Zhiguo. He had only been out of university for a few years and was assigned to work as an assistant under Lao Deng. He rarely spoke in meetings.

"Brother Deng, Captain Ma, I have an idea." Zhao Zhiguo gestured angrily to the north, "Isn't Mongolia right across from our construction site?"

Old Deng looked at him.

“We’re short-staffed right now, and they’re short of jobs,” Xiao Zhao said quickly. “I’ve done some research; Mongolia’s economy hasn’t been doing well in recent years. Neither exports nor domestic consumption have seen any particularly strong growth. Those young people there have nowhere to work. If we could open a door and let some foreign workers in to do manual labor…”

"Are you crazy?" Old Hu's voice was half an octave higher than usual. "We finally managed to get a big project done, and you're giving the extra jobs to foreigners? How many people in our country are still looking for work!"

Old Hu is the captain of the second construction team. He is 48 years old this year and has been working on construction sites for more than 20 years. He doesn't talk much, but when he does, he's very stern.

“I’m not saying we should give them all the jobs,” Xiao Zhao quickly explained. “It’s the most basic manual labor. Digging earth, moving steel bars, clearing rubble—these are the hardest and most tiring jobs, and they’re the ones we’re having the hardest time recruiting for right now. If there were any other way out in China, who would be willing to come all this way to do this? But it’s different on the other side… They’re poor, and as long as they can make money, they don’t care about the hardship or the fatigue.”

“Even if we’re poor, we can’t hand over our livelihood to outsiders,” Old Hu stubbed out his cigarette in the soda can, pressing it so hard it tilted. “How many of our own people are idle at home? There are so many places in Northeast China and North China, there’s plenty of labor. If you have trouble recruiting, I’ll have the labor agency go to more provinces. If 300 isn’t enough, we’ll offer 350, if 350 isn’t enough, we’ll offer 400. There will always be someone willing to come.”

“The problem is time,” Xiao Zhao’s voice rose a bit. “We’re rushing to meet the deadline. It’s not that we can’t find people, it’s that we don’t have enough time! Even if you go to every job market in every county in the country, will you have any results in three months? Can we wait three months for the project to be completed? The other side has plenty of labor. They can probably bring a whole truckload over by just wandering around the border.”

"you……"

Just as Lao Hu opened his mouth, a rapid ringing sound suddenly came from his pocket.

Soon, the cell phones of Lao Deng, Lao Ma, Engineer Sun, and others also rang.

Old Deng glanced at the caller ID and answered immediately.

The person on the other end of the phone said a few words, very briefly, and Old Deng's eyebrows went from furrowed to raised in less than three seconds.

"What do you mean by picking someone up?" he asked, then fell silent and simply listened.

A moment later, the call ended.

Old Deng looked up and found everyone in the conference room holding their phones and looking at each other blankly.

Everyone received the same notification: get ready to pick someone up.

"Who are we picking up?" Engineer Sun asked on behalf of everyone.

Before Lao Deng could answer, his phone vibrated again.

This is a video sent to a group.

There wasn't enough time to explain, so headquarters sent the same on-site footage to each engineering subsystem.

The picture shows a transfer station construction site under construction.

Old Deng recognized the construction site. It was about 300 kilometers west of the Tengger Lake Hub, a planned node for material transfer and personnel rest. Currently, only the site had been leveled and a few rows of temporary prefabricated houses had been erected.

Now, a huge shadow hangs over the construction site.

A massive abandoned airport.

The video was taken by a drone, with the camera shooting from an angle looking down. It clearly shows the massive concrete structure, which is over 5 kilometers long, suspended less than 200 meters above the construction site.

Along the edge of the runway, more than thirty ladders hang down densely, like gray waterfalls cascading from the sky.

People were descending each of the ladders, their steps synchronized and their pace uniform.

A dozen minutes later, the airport slowly turned and flew towards the northeast, disappearing into the clouds.

The video ends with a shot of the empty space at the transfer station construction site: the once deserted area is now filled with people.

Old Deng squinted, relying on his instincts honed over years of human resource management, and mentally calculated the area and population density of the open space: at least ten thousand people.

A few minutes later, another group video was sent.

The screen switched to the next project node.

This is a construction site for a supporting railway, laid out in an east-west direction along the south bank of the rift valley, which will eventually connect the hub to the nearest national railway trunk line.

The scale of a railway construction site is not comparable to that of a bridge construction site. The labor force required for just a roadbed that is tens of kilometers long is several times that of a bridge construction site.

The video shows the same abandoned airport, the same sky ladder, and the same flow of people.

The difference this time was that the airport stay was longer. When the footage finally stopped, the newly opened construction access road along the railway construction site was lined with dense crowds stretching from the near edge of the camera to the far end of the field of vision.

Old Deng roughly counted, and this time it should be more than 30,000.

Everyone was dumbfounded.

Everyone knows that Ming has been busy from morning till night today, cracking down on a hot topic involving more than a million telecom fraudsters in Southeast Asia. However, he was so busy that he never expected that the solution to deal with these guys would ultimately be the project he was working on.