"This is the merchandise Brother Li asked for. You should check it."
As he spoke, Scarface opened the small box.
Huang De Han had no idea how to inspect the goods; he had never even seen them before.
But it seemed that Scarface didn't want him to check for quality; he wanted him to verify the quantity.
All Huang De Han saw inside the box were bags filled with white powder, neatly packed.
"There are a total of 40 kilograms here," Scarface said.
As soon as Huang De Han heard the quantity, his legs went weak.
In China, selling more than 50 grams of white powder could result in the death penalty. He didn't even know how many times he would have to die for having 40 kilograms of it.
There were many people on the other side, and Huang De Han tightened his grip on the money bag, afraid they would rob him and kill him.
They could easily kill him. He was defenseless, without even the ability to fight back.
Huang De Han forced himself to nod calmly and handed the bag in his hand to the person closest to him.
The person took it and quickly passed it to Scarface.
Scarface opened the bag, glanced at the bills inside, and then zipped it up.
"It's good."
After securing the bag, Scarface handed the box containing the white powder to Huang De Han.
The deal was done.
Huang De Han breathed a sigh of relief, holding the box and getting back into the van.
The van took him to the riverside, where the small boat was still parked.
After getting off the van, Huang De Han quickly boarded the boat.
Their actions were swift, and there was no communication throughout.
Upon returning to the shore, Huang De Han ran southward, holding the box.
It was dark, and with the faint moonlight, he could vaguely see the surrounding trees.
Huang De Han's heart was racing, as if it was about to jump out of his throat.
He tightly held onto the box and kept running forward without stopping.
He ran fast, and combined with the darkness obscuring his vision, he suddenly tripped over a stone, falling heavily to the ground. The box flew out of his hands, and his chin hit the ground, causing an excruciating pain that instantly spread throughout his body, making him almost faint. His mouth was filled with the taste of blood.
"Ptui!"
Huang De Han spat out a mouthful of saliva, struggling to get up from the ground.
He tried to stand, but a piercing pain shot through his ankle. He felt a pang of fear—his foot was sprained!
Feeling the coolness on his chin, he touched it with his hand, feeling a sticky sensation. That's when he realized he was bleeding.
What a stroke of bad luck!
Huang De Han endured the pain, ignoring the blood flowing from his chin. Limping, he continued to move forward, picking up the box and pressing on.
But his foot hurt too much, and he couldn't walk quickly. He could only drag the box, inching forward.
He was moving too slowly.
As the sky was getting brighter, Huang De Han became increasingly anxious, sweating profusely. He had to grit his teeth and quicken his pace.
Just as the sky was dawning, Huang De Han finally emerged from the woods and crawled onto the road.
He saw a tricycle not far away and waved excitedly.
The man driving the tricycle frowned when he saw Huang De Han in such a sorry state, limping and covered in dirt. He quickly drove up.
"What happened to you?"
Huang De Han climbed onto the tricycle, panting heavily. "Don't ask. I tripped and sprained my foot."
The man spoke while driving, "I'll drop you off in town, and the rest is up to you."
"How about you take me to the clinic first to treat my foot injury?" Huang De Han said, sucking in a breath. His foot was really hurting.
The man fell silent for a moment and said, "Aren't you afraid of being discovered if you bring all this merchandise to the clinic?"
That was a valid point, but his foot was just too painful. If he didn't get it treated, he wouldn't be able to deliver the goods.
