Chapter 29 The Black Market

Li Mochen couldn't be bothered to speak; he slowly drew the magic-pattern steel sword. As the surrounding black-clad men's faces gradually darkened, a young man's voice suddenly rang out from nearby: "Enough! I know this guy, let him in."

Li Mochen glanced sideways toward the source of the voice and saw a young man of about twenty, with a head of brilliant golden hair and features as handsome as the sun god Apollo. Particularly impressive were his sky-blue eyes, which were watching him with keen interest.

Li Mochen gave a disdainful snort and shoved the half-drawn sword back into its scabbard.

Why were there always people in this world who liked to meddle, hindering him from acting on behalf of heaven to punish demons and chastise the wicked?

But when Li Mochen, under the gaze of several black-clad men, walked into a noisy underground space and, following the psychological cues he had preset, withdrew from the 'Heavenly Mind Illumination' state, he couldn't help but press his hand to his forehead, a look of helplessness in his eyes.

This mental secret art, when actually used, revealed all sorts of inconveniences. For instance, just now, wouldn't it have been better to conceal his identity?

He was now in a state of a fallen phoenix; why put on the airs of a celestial king? When it was time to play the coward, he should obediently do so.

And that golden-haired young man—he did have some impression of him. That day when Franks of the Teutonic Cross had come to find the original owner, hadn't this young man been following beside Franks?

Li Mochen rubbed his brow in exasperation. He didn't want others to know about his whereabouts today, but the result was the exact opposite of his will.

But what was done was done; no matter how much Li Mochen regretted it, it was useless. He could only sigh, then looked around, surveying this black market transformed from an underground parking garage.

The area wasn't large, but there were plenty of people; the view was filled with a constant stream of crowds. On both sides of the original driveway, the parking spaces had been converted into shops, totaling about sixty or so.

According to the original owner's memory, on the second and third underground floors of this garage, there were about seventy more shops and a large number of mobile stalls, making it even more bustling than several famous commercial streets in Atlanta.

It was also one of the three largest black markets in the entire state of Georgia. The Teutonic Cross didn't deal drugs or run prostitution, yet they lived more comfortably than other gangs. On one hand, they monopolized the smuggling channels of 'South America'; on the other, they relied on the commissions from this market. The latter accounted for at least a third of the Teutonic Cross's income.

So here, Li Mochen didn't have to worry about safety. After all, this was the foundation of the Teutonic Cross, and for an American black market to maintain its prosperity, the primary requirements were safety and credibility.

Li Mochen first found a shop dealing in precious metals. It mainly sold magical metals like adamantine and mithril, along with a small amount of alchemical products, and also purchased various alchemical raw materials. Gold was one of them, especially the high-purity gold that Li Mochen had refined with Samadhi True Fire.

"The purity is not bad."

The shop owner casually pinched it, leaving a clear fingerprint on the gold ingot, and a hint of delight appeared in his eyes: "What price do you want? Let's see if I can meet it."

Li Mochen replied without hesitation: "65 gold shields per gram, cash transaction."

"That's impossible!"

The shop owner shook his head: "Too greedy, boy. The market price of gold outside is only 42 gold shields, and the government takes taxes. I can only give you 38 gold shields at most—that's the highest purchase price in the entire Laurel Street black market."

"But 38 gold shields can't buy ten-thousand-fold fine gold, can it?"

Li Mochen sneered, then without further ado, picked up the gold ingot from the table and walked away.

So-called ten-thousand-fold fine gold refers to gold with a purity of 99.99999%.

There's a saying: 'Gold is not pure, nor is man perfect.' 100% pure gold doesn't exist. The reasons lie partly in refining technology and partly in the inevitable contamination by dust particles during the processing of gold jewelry or bars.

In this world, even the most advanced gold refining techniques could only achieve 99.9999%, or million-fold fine gold.

Ten-thousand-fold fine gold and above could only be refined by demigod-level beings and the various national gods. But how could such exalted beings have the leisure to waste time and effort refining such things? Even if they occasionally did, it was mostly for their own use. Thus, ten-thousand-fold fine gold was quite rare in this world and had a wide range of uses.

Sure enough, before Li Mochen could step out of the shop, the owner called out loudly: "Hey, kid! You've convinced me. I'll raise it to 45 gold shields per gram, OK? 48, 52, damn it! 60 gold shields—that's my final offer. If you don't agree, take your treasure and get lost!"

Li Mochen obediently walked back into the shop, while the owner grumbled resentfully: "By the Light God! I've never seen a brat as troublesome as you. This deal, I'm losing at least three thousand gold shields."

"You're lying!"

Li Mochen replied calmly: "I saw the sign of another alchemy shop ahead. You're afraid I'll sell to them, aren't you? It's obvious you urgently need these things."

"Damn it! You win, kid!"

The owner snorted, then placed a thick stack of bills in front of Li Mochen: "That's 52,000 gold shields. I've given you everything I have; all the cash in this shop is here. I'll allow you to pick some equivalent items from here to offset the balance."

Li Mochen looked at him suspiciously. The owner bristled: "What's that look? I'm not lying. Who would carry a large amount of cash around here? At the Laurel Street black market, we can entrust goods to the Teutonic Cross for safekeeping, but not cash. Since half a year ago, they've been encouraging customers to deposit money in their bank and then spend it in the black market. I'm sure you won't find more cash than this at any other shop. Damn it, this must be the Teutonic Cross caving in to the IRS. They want to tax even drugs and stolen goods."

Li Mochen knew the power of the IRS—the Internal Revenue Service, the U.S. tax authority. It was a government enforcement department with 300,000 tax auditors and 100,000 armed personnel. In the two hundred years before his birth, it was said that at least twelve major gangs had vanished under the IRS's violent tax collection.

Americans had a saying: "In this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes."

At all levels of society, the IRS was pervasive, reputed as "the most feared government agency in America," its prestige surpassing even the Department of Defense and the CIA.

Indeed, as the owner said, cash transactions were the best way to avoid taxes. Going through bank accounts inevitably left traces.

However, Li Mochen felt that the Teutonic Cross's purpose was more than that. This gang was clearly ambitious, beginning to dabble in money laundering and financial services. But that had nothing to do with him. Ignoring the owner's complaints, Li Mochen looked around the small shop.

Actually, even if the owner hadn't mentioned it, he had planned to buy some things here. Although this alchemy shop was small, its variety was quite comprehensive, and fortunately, the owner wasn't the difficult type to deal with.