Thud.
The Desert Eagle bounced once on the sofa cushion, then settled heavily into it, leaving a noticeable dip in the fabric.
Jiang Chuan might have been a transmigrator, but he was still just an ordinary guy. Holding a real gun for the first time was bound to make anyone nervous—especially when it was an actual, functioning firearm.
He glanced back at the system interface. The handgun icon in the small slot had vanished.
Ding.
Just then, the system’s ethereal chime rang out again.
[Option 1: Have your worker use the Desert Eagle to rob a bank. Reward: 500,000 yuan in cash.]
[Option 2: Give the Desert Eagle to the scammer. Reward: One legally operated private military enterprise in the Nation of Oceana, along with official civilian operating certification.]
[Option 3: Turn the Desert Eagle over to the authorities. Reward: 500 yuan, a banner of commendation, and a personal connection with the local police station chief.]
[Please make your selection within 30 minutes, or the mission will be voided.]
Staring at the transparent mission interface hovering before him, Jiang Chuan swallowed hard.
“These rewards are… weirdly grounded in reality,” he muttered dryly.
[Host, please make your choice as soon as possible. The mission window closes in 30 minutes, and the next mission launch time is not fixed,] the system reminded him.
Jiang Chuan knew he had to act fast. After all, if he wanted to turn things around, these three options were his only lifeline.
Option three was an immediate no.
Turning the gun in for 500 yuan and a banner? Honestly, he could walk down the street, hold up a random person, and get more than 500 yuan—who these days doesn’t carry at least that much on them?
As for the police chief connection… useful, maybe, but not game-changing.
Option one was out too, and for a simple reason: having a worker rob a bank with a gun would certainly net a lot of cash—maybe even millions in one go, giving him short-term financial freedom.
But it was illegal.
With today’s surveillance technology, even getting away with the money would be a nightmare, let alone laundering it. Too much hassle.
And the system probably wasn’t going to cover for him after the fact. If he got arrested, things would get even messier.
Right now, option two looked like the most viable path.
Give the Desert Eagle to the scammer—let him know that Jiang Chuan had access to firearms. Maybe, just maybe, that would scare the scammer into returning the money. That way, he’d complete the system mission and resolve his current crisis in one stroke.
And the reward was what really caught his eye.
A private military enterprise—officially recognized by the state, no less. Just the official operating license alone was something you couldn’t get anywhere in this world.
Did people think you could just open a munitions factory on a whim? Come on—this was a military factory!
And with a Military Industry Choice System to pair with it, wouldn’t he basically become the king of military manufacturing down the line?
Even if the scammer didn’t return the money, once he got the factory up and running and sold its first batch of goods, he’d be able to pay off his debts—and give his parents a much better life.
It took Jiang Chuan only two or three seconds to sort through his thoughts and make a decision: “I choose option two.”
Ding.
System: [Mission activated. Host must deliver the Desert Eagle to the scammer within 24 hours. If the deadline passes, the mission will be voided and permanently closed.]
Twenty-four hours…
That wasn’t a lot of time.
If the scammer was really hiding out in some place like northern Myanmar, he’d be completely screwed.
Without a moment to lose, Jiang Chuan pulled out his phone and opened his chat history with the “guru.”
[You rotten scammer! Answer me!]
[You damn con artist! You’ll die a horrible death!]
[F* you ************. **********]
Staring at the “Read” receipts with no replies, Jiang Chuan felt his head pounding.
He suddenly realized a major problem: to deliver the Desert Eagle to the scammer, he needed the scammer’s address.
And given their current relationship—how was he supposed to get that address out of him?
But then again, the fact that the scammer had been bold enough to leave messages on “Read” without replying, and had put up with all the abuse without blocking him, suggested one thing: the guy was greedy. He didn’t just want to pull off this one scam—he wanted to squeeze even more money out of his victim.
Otherwise, he would have deleted Jiang Chuan long ago.
After a moment’s thought, Jiang Chuan tentatively typed into the chat window:
“Boss, I’m sorry. I’ve been watching too many anti-fraud news reports lately and I mistakenly took you for a scammer. All this time, you’ve been guiding me to make money without asking for anything in return, and I went and treated you like a crook. I really shouldn’t have.
“So here’s my apology: I just managed to grab two bottles of Moutai. I was going to sell them, but instead, I want to give them to you as a peace offering!”
He hit send, frowned, and let out a sigh. “I hope I’m right about this—that the scammer is greedy enough to give me his address.”
Ruifeng Tower Office Building, 28th Floor.
A company called Dream Network was located here.
It wasn’t a big operation—just five or six employees in the main office. Each had a computer on their desk, along with sound cards, voice changers, cameras, and other equipment.
On every employee’s desk sat a thick stack of documents, filled with meticulously detailed scripts, rebuttal notes, and response strategies.
It wasn’t hard to tell that this company was anything but ordinary—it had all the makings of a future operation based out of northern Myanmar.
For now, though, the scale was small enough that the authorities hadn’t taken notice.
In one corner of the office sat a private room.
Zhang Songyang leaned back in his plush office chair, eyes half-closed, looking thoroughly satisfied.
Spacious office, private workspace, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the ocean in the distance.
No question—this office was worlds apart from the cramped cubicles outside.
And he owed it all to being the boss. The reason he was in such a good mood? Not long ago, he’d swindled over 400,000 yuan from some clueless sucker, piece by piece.
Hardly any effort at all—the idiot had believed every word and transferred the money without hesitation.
Smooth. So smooth.
If everyone in the world were this gullible, he’d be buying that penthouse in Tomson Riviera in no time.
Sure, the sucker had finally figured out he’d been scammed and was now blowing up his phone with curses every day—but Zhang Songyang didn’t care.
Lots of people cursed him out. That one idiot was nobody special.
Besides, he had bigger plans.
As a professional con artist, you never cut a mark loose until you’d squeezed every last drop of value out of them.
Take that sucker, for instance. So what if he knew he’d been tricked?
Later on, Zhang Songyang would just transfer a portion of the stolen money back to him and spin a story: “Sorry I didn’t reply—the investment hit a critical phase. But good news, it’s paying off now. Here’s part of your return.”
That sucker would be overcome with gratitude and guilt. Then, he’d be ready to borrow more—from friends, from online lenders, from micro-loans, from anywhere.
Only after the sucker was completely drained would Zhang Songyang finally toss him aside.
Humming to himself, Zhang Songyang tapped his fingers rhythmically on the desk.
Ding-dong.
A WeChat notification chimed.
No need to guess—it was probably that same sucker again, spouting the same old insults.
Out of a mild touch of OCD, Zhang Songyang lazily opened his eyes and glanced at the message.
And then, he froze.
“Boss, I’m sorry. I’ve been watching too many anti-fraud news reports lately and I mistakenly took you for a scammer. All this time, you’ve been guiding me to make money without asking for anything in return, and I went and treated you like a crook. I really shouldn’t have.
“So here’s my apology: I just managed to grab two bottles of Moutai. I was going to sell them, but instead, I want to give them to you as a peace offering!”
Zhang Songyang blinked.
This kid… is he really that stupid?
