Chapter 39: The Illicit Cybercrime Syndicate

The days that followed were calm and uneventful. Xiao Kaitian found time to rewrite the program for the glove’s chip, transforming it into a standardized configuration. The code was developed using the programming systems of this world but embedded with his unique encryption; he was confident it was unbreakable.

Not long after all the preparations were in place, Rin Ogiwara sent word: all procedures for the production, sales, and distribution of the gloves were completed. This was largely thanks to the power of the Ogiwara family. GG, as a world-renowned luxury brand, rarely stooped to such collaborations, but Rin had leveraged significant family influence. Moreover, Xiao Kaitian’s product design had genuinely impressed the GG Asia-Pacific manager, who agreed to try a “special supply” model for an initial run. Whether the partnership would deepen depended on first-phase sales.

Additionally, the skeletal framework for the gloves was produced by a department of Ogiwara Heavy Industries. With the design blueprints provided, production and logistics posed no issue for such an industrial titan. Outsourcing production also maximized confidentiality.

Guided by the information Rin provided, Xiao Kaitian arrived at the company’s location. For security reasons, Rin had set up the headquarters within her own sphere of influence. The building was a four-story Western-style structure, utterly unremarkable from the outside, surrounded by neat rows of residential homes with no tall buildings nearby. Xiao Kaitian was immediately satisfied with this arrangement.

Accompanying him were Sun Zhongyi and the international students he had recruited. Rin paid them little heed, striding forward with her long legs to greet Xiao Kaitian. “Hmph! You finally show up. You’ve had it easy, playing the absentee boss, while I’ve been running myself ragged. Don’t you feel the least bit guilty?”

“The capable handle more, after all. This is your turf,” Xiao Kaitian replied, dressed today in a suit beneath a black Versace overcoat, which he casually draped over his arm. “You made a good choice. There’s nowhere nearby for anyone to hide.”

“The product is rather special; it may attract the attention of martial artists and the like,” Rin replied with a smile, taking his coat. “It’s best to prepare for all contingencies.” She led him forward. “This area is under Ogiwara family control, so open trouble will be rare. I’ve also stationed our martial artists nearby to ensure security.”

“There’s no need to go to such lengths. The core chip is unbreakable,” Xiao Kaitian said.

Rin shot him a glance, unable to fathom the source of his confidence. She snorted and tossed her hair. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

They entered the house, and Rin led him down to the basement, the passage blocked by a heavy metal door that only opened after biometric verification.

“Bank vault-level security,” Rin declared proudly. “It’s more than adequate for most threats. Everyone inside has been carefully vetted by the family—there’s no question of loyalty.”

Xiao Kaitian nodded, surveying the basement: this was the glove assembly area, the most crucial department. The GG gloves, skeletal frameworks, and chips were all delivered here for final assembly.

Since the final step was assembly, Rin had initially only assigned six staff, enough for the early stage.

“Your original design called for a steel skeleton. After passing the blueprints to Ogiwara Heavy Industries, they debated and switched to the latest alloy,” Rin remarked, her gaze slyly fixed on Xiao Kaitian. She knew he was a staunch individualist and feared the change might anger him. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Xiao Kaitian shrugged, unbothered. The product was, after all, just a test run; Rin’s improvements suited him fine.

He had other ways to make money—he could even hack into a bank’s system—but he knew that upon returning home, he’d need vast sums of money. Any significant data tampering would eventually be exposed.

After touring the basement, Rin brought him up to the third-floor office. The third and part of the fourth floor were reserved for offices, and the international students followed them there.

Xiao Kaitian cast a cursory glance around before seating himself in a corner, watching Rin command and direct operations.

Today was the first day of marketing. To show her respect for Xiao Kaitian, Rin herself took charge of the task assignments, a rare instance of overqualification.

The jobs assigned to the students were simple. Most sales were to be conducted online, so Rin had her team develop an app. Prospective customers, having learned about the product through various channels, could enter the app, browse a brief product introduction, and, if interested, be transferred to a customer service representative—one of the international students—for further inquiry.

Rin preferred to hire only international students, partly to support the Chinese Students’ Association and because she considered Han and Tang scholars to be kin. Moreover, Xiao Kaitian, at heart, still harbored reservations about the locals—though he’d never admit this to Rin.

Each student was provided with all the detailed product materials, FAQs, video tutorials—everything needed. Their job was largely copy-pasting answers and flexibly responding to questions. As university students, they were more than up to the task.

Once a sale was made, the student would log into the chip system, guide the client through entering their name and other basic information, and collect the client’s fingerprint online to serve as the system’s unique identifier. The system would then automatically generate and install the customer’s personalized chip program. A bespoke chip was thus completed.

The process was so simple that the students, after hearing the briefing, all wore astonished expressions.

Wang Cheng was one of the students. To be honest, when he first saw the job advertisement, he hadn’t believed it. The pay was good, with a commission—rare for temp jobs. But upon arrival, seeing the office set up like an internet café, he felt certain he’d been duped.

“Isn’t this some kind of international scam or online gambling ring?” whispered another new arrival.

Wang Cheng frowned. He had no way out—his family was struggling, and he had already devoted all his spare time to part-time work, yet he couldn’t keep up with both his family’s needs back home and his tuition here. If he kept going like this, he’d have no choice but to drop out and become an illegal resident, condemned to a shadowy existence, exploited and enslaved, selling his labor for a pittance.

That wasn’t the life he wanted. He longed to finish university and find a stable job, to bear the family’s burdens long-term.

At this point, even if this job skirted the law, he had no choice but to see it through.

“There’s a two percent commission on successful sales,” Rin was concluding the briefing. “A complete set is ten million; replacement chips are three million each. You can calculate your earnings.”

Wang Cheng felt even more hopeless. This had to be some sort of online criminal enterprise—what could possibly be sold for such a price?

Once the explanation was over, he sat at his desk with his eyes downcast, his fringe casting a shadow over his face, expressionless as he powered up his computer.

The computers were high-speed, the internet connection first-rate. He thought, This is perfect for online fraud—quick and easy money transfers. From today, I’m a first-class scammer, he thought bitterly.

Yet, he had to admit, this scam operation was remarkably well put together. The back-end system was simple and intuitive, the setup professional. He glanced over at the young man in the corner, shrouded in cigarette smoke—a suit tailored to perfection, no doubt purchased with the sweat and blood of the scammed. Wang Cheng sighed. Soon he’d be one of them, too. His conscience ached.

Irritated, he lit a cigarette, glancing sidelong at the next desk, where the occupant was picking his nose.

“Damn,” that person exclaimed, a large booger still clinging to his fingertip. “We’ve got a customer already!”

Wang Cheng scooted closer out of curiosity. The customer’s handle was “Octopus Loves Takoyaki,” and judging by the avatar, she was a young woman. How shameless, preying on young women!

--Octopus Loves Takoyaki: Is this where I can buy protective gloves?

--Neighbor: Yes, how can I assist you?

As he typed, he wiped the booger under the desk and nonchalantly began scratching his foot, the air soon thick with the smell.

--Octopus Loves Takoyaki: I’d like to know more. Is it dangerous?

--Neighbor: Control is entirely in the user’s hands. It meets all standards for self-defense equipment.

--Octopus Loves Takoyaki: Oh, do you have a video?

--Neighbor: Certainly, one moment.

Still scratching his foot, he moved the mouse. Wang Cheng was disgusted. The neighbor pasted a video link into the chat and turned to Wang Cheng with a grin. “See? Customers this dumb are easy to scam. This is the new wave of fraud.”

Soon enough, Octopus Loves Takoyaki replied.

--Octopus Loves Takoyaki: Not bad. Is it safe? I mean, is my personal information and usage secure?

--Neighbor: Yes, let me send you the details.

He copied and pasted a batch of pre-prepared materials. Less than ten minutes later, another message arrived.

--Octopus Loves Takoyaki: How do I pay?

--Neighbor: One moment, I’ll send you the company’s account details.

Turning again, he grinned, a cloud of smoke swirling around him. “See? The money’s easy here. These folks are so naive, never been burned by a pyramid scheme.”

Wang Cheng nodded in agreement.

As they chatted, a robotic female voice suddenly echoed through the room: “One million yen has been deposited to account ending 0856. Please confirm.”

The abrupt announcement halted the two “scammers” in their tracks. With a clatter, the neighbor toppled off his chair.

“Did—did we just make a sale?” the neighbor stammered. Wang Cheng’s jaw dropped.

Only Rin remained calm, frowning slightly. “What’s all the fuss? Since the payment’s gone through, proceed with the next steps. Didn’t I just explain it?”

“Yes, ma’am!” The neighbor, with fingers still sticky from nose and foot, hurriedly composed himself and got back to work.

“Boss,” someone finally raised a timid hand, “is this business... legal?”

“Legal?” Rin sneered. “Are you questioning the rigor of this country’s laws? Shall I call the police for an inspection?”

“No... no need.” The objector’s voice faded. Instantly, everyone focused on their computers.

A single sale netted a two percent commission—two hundred thousand. Temping for a month wouldn’t come close to that. This was what you’d call easy money—who’d be so foolish as to pass it up?

All of them were university students, well-versed in the classics, stratagems, and all manner of skills, with sharp instincts. They immediately sensed this job was no ordinary gig.

As the room filled with the repeated chime of “One million yen deposited,” Wang Cheng’s hand on the mouse nearly froze.