Stacks of crisp, green Franklin bills towered in neat, cube-like piles—an entire fortress built from cold, hard cash.
Easily over a hundred million dollars.
Rian Lee's breath grew ragged. This was no windfall—it was a king's ransom.
And it wasn't just cash.
Nestled beside the bills were rows of solid gold bricks, glinting under the overhead light. Each bar weighed a full kilogram, and there were over a hundred of them.
Compared to that, the casually scattered piles of gemstones, diamonds, and luxury watches almost looked... cheap.
But that wasn't all.
There was serious firepower here too.
Two M72 LAW rocket launchers, complete with ten rockets.
One Barrett M107A1 heavy sniper rifle, fitted with a suppressor—nicknamed the Silent Cannon for a reason.
Next to it, 200 rounds of specialized .50 BMG ammunition.
And to top it all off? Three M18A1 Claymore anti-personnel mines—the curved kind that say "FRONT TOWARD ENEMY."
Even in the good ol' U.S. of A., the contents of this vault were well beyond civilian reach. Especially the launchers and mines—strictly black-market goods.
Down in the underground garage beneath the building, five SUVs waited. Each held a waterproof package the size of a small fridge.
Inside? The Blood Revolver cartel's lost cargo—2.5 tons of Colombian "flour."
And now, it was all his.
A slow, confident smile curled on Rian's lips as he scaled the exterior wall, agile as a shadow. Reaching the rooftop, he slipped into the ventilation shaft and crawled his way into the building.
The third floor was his destination—the location of the master vault.
Aside from the vault itself, ten cartel guards were stationed throughout this level.
No one guarded the vault room directly. But two men stood watch at the entrance outside.
Rian crept through the vent and dropped silently into the vault room.
The safe was old-school: a pure mechanical behemoth.
Perfect.
With the help of his Detection Card, the inner workings of the lock glowed clear in his mind's eye.
Every gear, every tumbler—exposed like an open book.
Less than a minute later—CLUNK!
The lock gave way.
Rian opened the heavy door, and what greeted him was a flood of green and gold light.
A cube of cash—stacked over a meter high. Real cash. Visible, tangible, and utterly intoxicating.
Gulp.
He swallowed hard.
This... this was the kind of temptation that made people sell their souls.
Sure, he was now romantically tied to women like Mei-mei and Ao-chan, but those girls didn't exactly keep cash under the mattress. Their fortunes were managed by trust funds and private banks.
What they gave Rian were just debit cards.
Useful, but soulless.
But this?
This was money.
Raw. Physical. Seductive.
"Storage space—absorb it."
The money cube vanished in an instant.
The system notified him immediately.
— Funds Acquired: $180,000,000 ✦
He wasn't done.
Next came the gold—100 kilograms, worth another ten million or so.
Then 300 assorted gemstones and diamonds.
Twenty high-end watches.
He didn't leave behind a single bullet. Everything went into his storage space.
Good thing I upgraded it to 8 cubic meters. Just the cash alone would've maxed out a single cube.
He shut the vault, then positioned himself behind the door.
With a light tap on a loose pipe, he created a subtle CLINK!—just enough noise to lure attention.
The two guards outside exchanged a look, then entered with guns raised.
What greeted them was a whisper of death.
A single .50 caliber round—the same used by the Barrett—tore through both their skulls in one shot.
BANG!
They dropped like sacks of meat.
Rian quickly looted their weapons and ammo. Sure, he had his infinite-mag Desert Eagle, but who ever complained about having too many black-market guns?
Especially when they were MP5 submachine guns.
These guards were well-equipped. Cartel luxury.
Even though the sound of the suppressed Deagle had been dampened by 70%, it still wasn't silent enough to go unnoticed.
His Detection Card flared to life.
Eight more cartel members were sprinting his way, wielding an arsenal of full-auto rifles.
Their comms crackled. Shouts echoed through the halls.
"Gunshots in the vault room!"
"FUCK! Someone's hitting our Blood Revolver stash!"
"SHIT! I don't care who it is—kill him!"
The vault wasn't just a stash. It was the Blood Revolver cartel's community fund—their collective retirement plan.
They would die before letting it go.
Rian raised his weapons—MP5 in the left, Deagle in the right.
He exhaled slowly.
Three-shot burst.
RAT-TAT-TAT!
The first cartel thug took all three rounds to the chest, crumpling before he could even fire.
Another burst—his follow-up target barely had time to blink before a round split his heart.
Two down before the rest even laid eyes on him.
The remaining six dove for cover.
"Shit! His aim is too good!"
"Don't peek! We're in a blind spot—he can't see us here!"
"What if he uses the rocket launchers?!"
"No way—those safes aren't that easy to open!"
But even as they argued—
PFSSHT!
Another faint report.
A .50 cal bullet curved like a serpent through the air—bending physics under Rian's will—and SLAMMED into the head of a thug crouched behind the wall.
BOOM!
His skull exploded like a ripe watermelon.
"FUCK! Jimmy's down!"
"God! Where's the shooter?! Who saw him fire?!"
"Don't tell me... the bullet turned a corner?!"
Rian's HUD lit up with outlines of their bodies—highlighted through walls thanks to the Detection Card.
He didn't need to see them.
He only needed to imagine the angle—and let his Gun-Fu twist the barrel just so.
He could bend bullets now.
And he was just getting started.