A three-hundred-ton industrial smuggling barge chugged out of the midnight shadows of Dock #09 into the churning river channel of Jiangcheng, fighting gale-force squalls that tossed white spray thirty feet into the air.
The vessel was named the Iron Shark. Its hull was reinforced with thick steel plating, and its twin turbocharged diesel engines roared with dark, greasy exhaust.
In the elevated wheelhouse, Chairman Zhao Kun leaned against the brass helm. His face was caked with coal soot and dried blood. His bandaged forehead was soaked with cold rain. Beside him stood Zhao Kai, clutching an aluminum suitcase to his chest like a life preserver.
Down in the cargo hold sat four heavy suitcases packed with seventy pounds of pure smuggled gold bullion.
Zhao Kun adjusted his binoculars, peering through the rain-streaked glass.
A half-mile ahead, riding the deep-water channel, sat the riding lights of a two-thousand-ton refrigerated freighter: the Sanctuary Star. It was Taichu Hospital’s primary herb transport ship, loaded with eighty tons of rare alpine roots, Changbai cordyceps, and life-saving medicinal extracts.
Zhao Kun’s mouth twisted into a manic, psychotic grin.
“There it is,” Zhao Kun hissed, turning the heavy throttle lever all the way forward. “Full speed! Ram her right at the water line! In this typhoon, the maritime bureau will record it as an unfortunate shipping collision! When eighty tons of rare herbs sink to the river bottom, Lin Mo’s hospital will be ruined!”
The helmsman, a scarred smuggler from the Black-Tiger Hall, hesitated. “Chairman Zhao, that freighter is twice our size! If we hit her at twenty knots, our own hull might rupture!”
“I don’t care!” Zhao Kun screamed, slapping the man across the face with his bare palm. “We have seventy pounds of gold! Once we cross into the provincial capital of Tianhai, the Four Tycoon Clans will shelter us! Ram her!”
The Iron Shark accelerated, its sharp steel prow cutting through the black swells directly toward the freighter’s flank.
Five hundred yards. Four hundred yards. Three hundred yards.
BZZZZT!
Suddenly, six blinding beams of high-intensity white light cut through the storm from the darkness of the river.
The searchlights locked onto the wheelhouse of the Iron Shark, blinding Zhao Kun and his crew.
HONK! HONK! HONK!
Three massive pneumatic foghorns bellowed across the water, sounding like the roar of enraged river dragons.
From behind the islands in the shipping channel, three heavy armored tugboats surged forward at twenty-two knots. They were painted deep naval blue, sporting reinforced icebreaker bows and heavy steel push-knees.
At the helm of the lead tugboat stood Old Captain Zheng.
The sixty-five-year-old river veteran stood rock-steady behind his brass ship’s wheel, wearing a yellow oilskin captain’s coat. His Goodness Score shone in a brilliant, honorable green: 91/100.
Crewing the deck around him were twenty young men and women between the ages of eighteen and twenty. They wore matching orange foul-weather suits and safety harnesses.
These were the senior cadet mariners from the Lin Family Hometown Orphan Maritime Academy, established by Lin Mo in North River County. Their Goodness Scores glowed in honest, radiant greens between 88/100 and 95/100.
Captain Zheng keyed his heavy exterior megaphone, his voice booming over the wind and waves:
“This is Captain Zheng of the Taichu River Rescue Fleet! Smuggling barge Iron Shark, you are steering an illegal collision course in a municipal corridor! Cut your engines immediately or be engaged!”
Zhao Kun shielded his eyes from the blinding glare, screaming into the open wheelhouse window.
“Old fisherman dog! Get out of my way or I will crush you into kindling!”
Captain Zheng spat a chew of tobacco into the scuppers, his weathered face hard as oak.
“Cadets!” Captain Zheng barked through the ship’s intercom. “Flank speed! Execute standard maritime pincer maneuver! Protect the herb ship! Beach that rat!”
“Aye, Captain!” the twenty orphan cadets yelled in unison.
The three armored tugboats split with military precision.
Two tugs swept around the stern of the Iron Shark, creating massive bow waves that destabilized the smuggling barge’s rudder. The lead tugboat, captained by Zheng himself, accelerated straight across the barge’s path.
CRUNCH!
Captain Zheng’s reinforced steel bow slammed directly into the port forward quarter of the Iron Shark.
The impact shook the three-hundred-ton barge violently. Steel groaned and crumpled, sparks showering across the dark water.
Before the smuggler helmsman could recover, the two flanking tugboats slammed into the starboard side, locking the Iron Shark in a three-way hydraulic clamp.
With forty thousand horsepower churning the river into white foam, Captain Zheng turned his helm hard to port.
The three tugboats shoved the struggling barge out of the deep-water channel, driving it straight toward the rocky mudbanks of Reed Island.
SKRRRRRR!
A deafening sound of tearing metal and scraping granite echoed across the river as the Iron Shark was forced high onto the mudbank.
The barge lurched upward at a thirty-degree angle, its twin propellers spinning uselessly in thin air.
The engines coughed once, spewing black smoke, and died completely.
Inside the tilted wheelhouse, Zhao Kun and Zhao Kai tumbled across the floor, covered in broken glass, spilled motor oil, and mud. The heavy suitcases of gold slid down the deck, pinning Zhao Kai’s legs against the bulkhead.
“Uncle! We are beached! We are stuck!” Zhao Kai shrieked in absolute terror.
The heavy steel hatch of the wheelhouse was kicked open with a thunderous bang.
Tie Niu leaped across the ten-foot gap from Captain Zheng’s tugboat, landing on the tilted deck of the barge like a falling boulder.
He wore his dark trousers and a waterproof jacket. In his hands, he held his eighty-pound Ancient Cold-Iron Heavy Sabre. The dark blade caught the glare of the searchlights with a cold, blue-white frost.
Behind Tie Niu, Lin Mo vaulted over the railing, stepping lightly onto the steel deck.
Lin Mo looked at the four suitcases of gold bullion scattered across the floor, then looked down at Zhao Kun and Zhao Kai.
Zhao Kun really thought seventy pounds of gold could buy him an escape, Lin Mo thought, looking at the filthy, shivering men. He wanted to sink eighty tons of life-saving medicine to satisfy his petty spite. Now he is stranded on a mudbank, looking like a drowned sewer rat.
Tie Niu stepped into the wheelhouse.
Two Black-Tiger smugglers raised pump-action shotguns.
SWISH.
Tie Niu swung the flat of his cold-iron sabre. The heavy blade struck both shotgun barrels simultaneously, snapping the steel tubes clean in half and knocking both smugglers through the rear window into the river mud.
Tie Niu reached down, grabbed Zhao Kun by his shirt collar with his left hand, and hoisted him into the air like an empty sack.
With his right hand, Tie Niu grabbed Zhao Kai by his belt.
He walked out onto the deck, tossing both men onto the gravel mudbank at Lin Mo’s feet.
“Chairman Lin,” Tie Niu said, his voice calm and steady. “The rats have been harvested.”
Zhao Kun coughed violently, spitting river mud and blood from his mouth. He looked up at Lin Mo, his eyes wild with terror and venomous hatred.
“Lin Mo...” Zhao Kun croaked, his voice trembling. “You cannot kill me! I have gold! Take the gold and let us go!”
Lin Mo did not even look at the gold.
He looked past the barge toward the three armored tugboats idling in the shallows.
Captain Zheng and the twenty young orphan cadets stood on the deck, saluting Lin Mo with clenched fists. Their faces were flushed red from the cold wind and rain, but their eyes were bright with triumph.
Lin Mo smiled warmly at the old captain and the young cadets.
“Captain Zheng,” Lin Mo called out, his voice rich and resonant over the storm. “You and your cadets protected the city’s medicine tonight. You saved millions of people who depend on that freighter.”
Captain Zheng touched his captain’s cap, his chest swelling with pride.
“Chairman Lin! You gave these orphan kids a home, an education, and a future on the water,” Captain Zheng said in a ringing voice. “When danger came, our cadets proved they are true sailors of Taichu!”
The twenty orphan cadets beamed with pride, standing tall in the wind.
Lin Mo turned to Su Wan, who had boarded the tugboat behind him with the satellite terminal.
“Su Wan,” Lin Mo commanded. “Fifteen million yuan flat. Five million yuan to Captain Zheng and the maritime maintenance crew as a personal heroic bonus. And ten million yuan to establish the permanent Taichu Orphan Maritime Scholarship & Fleet Modernization Fund, equipping every tug with advanced satellite navigation radar and covering university maritime tuition for all twenty cadets.”
The twenty young orphan cadets stood frozen in disbelief.
“Ten million yuan for our academy?!” an eighteen-year-old cadet girl stammered, wiping river spray from her eyes. “Full university tuition for all of us?!”
Captain Zheng’s eyes glistened with tears under his bushy white eyebrows.
“Chairman Lin... you are too good to these children,” Captain Zheng whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.
“Good people deserve the best this world can offer,” Lin Mo said gently. “Swipe the card.”
Tap.
Su Wan pressed Lin Mo’s Black-Gold Sovereign Benevolence Card against the satellite terminal.
BEEP.
A magnificent, celestial chime rang out deep in Lin Mo’s soul:
[Ding! Detected spending of ¥15,000,000.00 RMB on Maritime Fleet Rescue Bounty & Orphan Academy Modernization!]
[Target Beneficiaries: Captain Zheng (Goodness: 91/100) & 20 Orphan Maritime Cadets (Goodness: 88–95/100)!]
[Purpose: Direct hero cash bonuses (¥5,000,000) and permanent maritime university scholarships and fleet radar upgrades (¥10,000,000)!]
[Pure Altruistic Intent Verified: Rewarding maritime courage, protecting hospital supply lines, and educating underprivileged youth!]
[Triggering 100x Pure Benevolence System Refund!]
[Cash Refund Received: +¥1,500,000,000.00 RMB!]
[Funds deposited directly into Host Personal Liquid Vault!]
[Personal Liquid Vault: ¥96,500,000,000.00 RMB!]
[Benevolence Merit Points: +1,500,000 BMP | Total BMP: 189,449,528 BMP!]
[Good People Network Expanded: 9,840 Verified Righteous Allies (+10 newly inducted maritime rescue officers formally integrated)!]
One point five billion more added to the vault, Lin Mo noted, watching his liquid vault surge to ninety-six point five billion yuan. A fifteen-million investment in young orphan sailors yields a billion and a half in cash. Virtue is the highest-yielding asset in the universe.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
Across the tugboats, mobile phones chimed as scholarship certificates and bank deposits registered.
The twenty orphan cadets threw their caps into the air, cheering Lin Mo’s name at the top of their lungs as the storm began to abate.
On the mudbank, Tie Niu reached into Zhao Kun’s muddy coat pocket, pulling out a heavy, waterproof satellite phone.
RING! RING! RING!
The satellite phone was vibrating insistently, displaying a secure caller ID from Tianhai Provincial Capital.
Tie Niu handed the phone to Lin Mo.
Lin Mo pressed the speaker button.
A cold, smooth, aristocratic voice spoke through the speaker, carrying the faint background hum of classical violin music from a luxury penthouse:
“Chairman Zhao Kun, this is Chief Butler Song of the Song Tycoon Clan in Tianhai. Your courier informed us that you are en route with seventy pounds of gold bullion. The Song Clan has arranged for your arrival at Cloud-Crown Marina.”
Lin Mo held the phone quietly, listening without speaking.
The aristocratic voice on the line continued, turning chillier and filled with casual, absolute arrogance:
“In accordance with our clan agreement, the Four Provincial Tycoon Clans—Song, Murong, Ouyang, and Qin—have already issued a joint provincial embargo against Taichu Group. Taichu’s advance shipping berths at Cloud-Crown Marina are permanently sealed. If that country bumpkin Lin Mo dares set foot in Tianhai Capital, the Four Clans will bury him in the river.”
Lin Mo smiled faintly, speaking into the receiver in a calm, flat, deadpan voice:
“Chief Butler Song?”
The violin music on the other end abruptly paused.
“Who is this?” the butler demanded, his voice stiffening.
“My name is Lin Mo,” Lin Mo answered softly. “Zhao Kun is currently resting on a mudbank in handcuffs. And his seventy pounds of gold will be donated to an orphanage tomorrow morning.”
Lin Mo paused, looking across the dark river toward the northern horizon where the distant lights of Tianhai glowed against the clouds.
“Tell your Four Tycoon Clans to keep Cloud-Crown Marina clean,” Lin Mo said, his tone icy and steady. “When I arrive in Tianhai, I will buy the marina and make your young masters park my trucks.”