Chapter Twenty-Four: Bargaining with the Dragon-Slaying Saber

In the final moments of heightened danger, Yang Jie attempted to disable the missile. After severing all internal connection devices, the ominous sense of threat finally dissipated.

When the indicator lights inside the missile all went dark, everyone present—even Andres’s men—couldn’t help but exhale deeply in relief.

“Yang, thank you,” someone said.

Yang wiped the sweat from his face. “It’s safe now. When you have time, drag this thing away. It’s too dangerous. Who knows when this entire warehouse might blow up.”

“Got it, got it!”

With this incident, Yang Jie seized the upper hand in the negotiation.

The two women and Andres’s men immediately switched to spectators, almost wishing for a bowl of sunflower seeds to enjoy the spectacle.

The main reason was the fierce price battle between Yang Jie and Andres.

“What? Anzio is selling me for ten thousand dollars? Are you crazy? I can buy the same at Beautiful Lady for that price, no profit margin. Then why would I buy from you?”

“Look at this bolt, so sleek and shiny. It’s brand new.”

“No way.”

“Then what’s your offer?”

“Two thousand dollars!”

Yang Jie began wielding his metaphorical dragon-slaying sword to bargain, and Andres was forced to retreat repeatedly under the relentless price cuts.

“What? Tactical missiles for 800,000 dollars each? What are you playing at? Beautiful Lady sells them for 970,000 with free delivery. Your wild pricing is absurd. I think 200,000 each is fair.”

“Besides, tactical missiles require satellite guidance, so the price should be discounted!”

“What? Super Stallion heavy helicopters for 135 million dollars? That’s 30 million more expensive than the F-35. This stuff isn’t clean; no one but me would buy it. Sell it to me for 30 million!”

“Also, that naval gun lost its fire control system. I have to find someone to fix it, so the price must be slashed—make that a 90% discount!”

They had arrived at three in the afternoon, and negotiations stretched until six in the evening.

Finally!

Andres, exhausted, waved his hand.

“Yang, you damn vampire, how do you manage to bargain like this? Damn it, you actually make sense!”

Yang Jie showed no exhaustion but winced in pain.

“One hundred fifty million is already a great price. You know this batch is sensitive; no one else would take it except me. Otherwise, you’d be dealing with the CIA and Delta Force.”

Andres shook his head, near tears. “Right, right, you’re right. So, how do we make the deal?”

Yang smiled. “Virtual currency transaction. I’ll send people to handle this warehouse tomorrow. How about that?”

Andres extended his hand with a smile. “Pleasure doing business!”

After shaking hands, Andres invited him to his mansion for a drink.

Yang readily agreed, and when no one was watching, he sent a message to his people to protect him.

He then activated his phone’s location and soon arrived at Andres’s mansion.

As a prominent local arms dealer, the mansion was spacious and staffed with numerous servants.

At the dining table, the atmosphere was good, but Yang’s mind wandered, continuously sensing the security around him.

For a man from the Dragon Nation, most foreigners’ thought processes seemed unstable. Who knew which fool might suddenly lose it or which idiot might start shooting wildly?

Through his earpiece, he learned that Sharapova, Sophia, and Choi Hye-joo had hurried over, located a vantage point nearby, and begun to lay low.

If a fight broke out, several leaders on the opposing side would surely die first.

Given the local security situation, Yang should have left immediately, but he had other plans.

There was no direct conflict of interest between them, and maintaining some relationship could be beneficial. After all, sea transport wouldn’t be cut off instantly in an apocalypse. If there was good stuff, Yang didn’t mind flying over personally.

At that moment, loud noise erupted outside, accompanied by a DJ-like mournful beat that grew louder.

Yang kept drinking water, tongue out—being someone who couldn’t handle spicy food, the Mexican dishes posed a serious test for his sphincter the next day.

“Your neighbors are a bit noisy,” Andres said, his expression darkening instantly.

“A bunch of Koreans moved in recently, holed up in their villa playing ‘flying leaves’ every day. When they get high, they make so much noise. I’m annoyed with them too.”

Yang bit into a lemon, narrowing his eyes. “If my neighbors were like that, they wouldn’t last two days.”

Andres shook his head with a bitter smile. “The biggest gang here collaborates with them. I have to tolerate them for now.”

“You must be the fifth largest gang in this city, then.”

Andres bristled. “Since last month, we’re already the fourth largest!”

Yang nodded.

“We in the Dragon Nation have a saying: A true man born between heaven and earth cannot long dwell beneath others’ feet. It means a man should never live under someone’s shadow.”

Besides a short temper, Yang often liked stirring trouble elsewhere—after all, as long as it didn’t fall on him, the messier, the better for bargaining.

Which arms dealer wants world peace? If the world were truly peaceful, we wouldn’t even get hot meals.

Andres chuckled, praising the profundity of Dragon culture, but his eyes glinted with danger.

Five minutes later, Andres suddenly slammed the table and stormed toward the neighboring villa with his men.

Seeing Yang’s unmoving calm, Andres was speechless. “Aren’t Chinese people supposed to love a good show? Why is this guy so composed?”

“Yang, don’t you want to check it out?”

Yang smiled, revealing eight pearly white teeth. Li Siyao pursed her lips; she knew this dog of a man was up to something again.

Outside the villa, Andres fired shots into the sky, greeting in the local manner.

Soon, over a dozen shirtless men covered in tattoos burst out of the villa.

A stream of incoherent curses followed.

Andres’s face darkened instantly. Had he not been warned, he would have eliminated them by now.

What started as a mere argument suddenly escalated.

A lean, arrogant man radiating thug energy approached Yang, scrutinizing him. The tattoo on his chin seemed alive, moving with his curses.

“Hey punk, where are you from?”

Choi Hye-joo’s translation echoed in Yang’s ear.

Yang didn’t even need the translation; he understood Korean perfectly and retorted fluently in Korean.

“Get lost before you’re looking for trouble!”

At those words, the tattooed men all turned to Yang with furious eyes.