I Became a Black Market Tycoon with an Inventory - Chapter 127

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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127 – Collection
127
Zamboanga Beach.
Shin Jung-gi dashed through the rain.
With a radiant smile.
The expression of someone who possessed the entire world.
Shin Jung-gi had never imagined such a day would come in his lifetime.
For him, today was his birthday, a picnic, Children’s Day, and payday all rolled into one.
Not long ago, Dennis and Simon had come to find me.
And they said one thing.
“They’re going to attack. Can you stop them?”
“Of course.”
I retrieved the weapons I had been crafting all this time.
The thought of using these weapons in actual combat made my heart pound as if it would burst.
Unlike the sheer volume of weapons being produced, there are few opportunities to actually use them.
Especially for the weapon designer themselves—it is extraordinarily rare to use their creations in real combat rather than merely testing them.
Researchers do not participate in wars.
Yet such an incredible opportunity had come to me.
I could not possibly let it slip away.
I devised a plan.
Like a brilliant psychopath, I created Plan A, Plan B, Plan C, Plan D, and Plan E.
With variations based on past problems, I even developed Plan A-1, Plan A-2, Plan B-1, and Plan B-2.
Despite creating so many plans, the more I thought about it, the simpler this operation became.
There were only two ways the Philippine Military could enter Mindanao.
Either by airplane or by ship.
If a small force needed to conduct a special operation, it would be by airplane, but this required large-scale troop deployment.
One hundred percent by ship.
I needed a weapon capable of attacking ships.
Unfortunately, there was no such weapon available to attack ships.
It would be wonderful to have something like a torpedo, but for the Rebel Forces, a torpedo was something too distant even to dream of.
So I made one.
I did not create anything extraordinary.
I merely modified an old mortar slightly.
The greatest problem with mortars was accuracy.
It is difficult to predict where a mortar round will land.
One must continuously fire and adjust.
Combined with the curved trajectory of an indirect fire weapon falling from above.
It is difficult to hit the target.
Temperature, humidity, and wind all have significant effects.
Therefore, it often relied on the gunner’s intuition.
Naturally, accuracy suffered as a result.
But the world had changed.
There were now many ways to compensate for a mortar’s accuracy.
First, we used drones to pinpoint enemy positions in real time, and weather sensors to input meteorological data.
The drone transmitted its location.
The weather sensor provided wind speed, temperature, and humidity readings.
Based on those values, I calculated using a ballistic calculator.
I had created an app called the ballistic calculator.
Tian Zihao had developed the app for me.
Input the drone and weather sensor values, and it automatically calculated.
Then the precise angle appeared.
After that, it was simple.
All I had to do was tell the mortar crews the angle.
They just fired according to what the app indicated.
Everything was integrated.
Confirm and fire.
If it missed, adjust and fire again.
It didn’t even have to hit directly.
As long as it caused some disruption, that was enough.
If we destroyed even one antenna or shattered even one window, it was profit.
The beauty of mortars was that ammunition was cheap.
We could rain down shells that cost about 200,000 won each like rainfall.
In the world of weapons, shells costing 200,000 won were pocket change.
And then there were the suicide boats we had prepared.
We had installed explosives on the front of small speedboats and modified them to be controlled by remote.
Trained Rebel Forces operators maneuvered the speedboats like RC cars.
Several were hit by gunfire and exploded, or their engines stalled.
It didn’t matter.
As long as one broke through and made impact, that was all we needed.
That escort frigate standing over there was worth about 200 billion won.
If we could take it down with a speedboat costing less than 5 million won, we could send as many as we wanted.
It wasn’t just speedboats.
We also had faster, smaller jet skis.
They were so small that radar barely picked them up.
They remained invisible to the enemy until visual confirmation.
On a rainy day like this, they were the perfect weapon.
Every time a mortar detonated, every time a suicide boat exploded, Shin Jung-gi couldn’t contain the dopamine rush.
It was exhilarating.
Shin Jung-gi hadn’t realized it himself.
That he could enjoy something like this so much.
I wanted to make weapons worthy of their name, and having made them, I wanted to use them.
That was all there was to it.
But I never imagined it would be this exhilarating.
The weapons seemed to fulfill their true purpose.
Watching Shin Jung-gi’s creations perform on an actual battlefield made me nearly delirious with joy.
I wanted to hide it, but the smile on my face refused to be concealed.
Even so, I could see parts that needed correction.
I could see sections where even minor improvements would yield significantly greater effects.
Indeed, only through actual deployment can one truly understand a weapon’s worth.
Shin Jung-gi was recording everything on video.
For data collection purposes.
That way, he could make precise modifications.
Though the day was gloomy with rain, Shin Jung-gi’s mind bloomed like spring in a flower garden.
.
.
.
Lacambini was in despair.
Mortars rained from the sky, and suicide boats swarmed from the water.
There was no way to counter them.
I never expected to be so utterly helpless.
I came thinking we could achieve a bloodless victory.
I didn’t anticipate anti-ship weapons.
But mortars, of all things.
How could mortars possibly land with such precision?
Mortars are incapable of such accuracy, yet these are devastatingly precise.
It’s terrifying.
There’s no way to evade.
The escort ship and transport vessel have already been breached by suicide boats.
We’re barely holding on by sealing the bulkheads.
This is dire.
We can’t flee either.
The suicide boats have torn holes in the hull, and the mortars have damaged external systems.
The antenna is already broken, so external communications are down.
Without repairs, normal navigation is impossible.
If we attempt to flee recklessly from here, we’ll likely sink somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
If we sink while fleeing, rescue will be nearly impossible.
After much deliberation, Lacambini finally issued an evacuation order.
“All personnel, prepare to evacuate. I repeat: all personnel, prepare to evacuate.”
If it became known that he issued an evacuation order, he would face disciplinary action.
They would curse Lacambini for ordering the abandonment of the escort ship without a proper battle.
I couldn’t send all my troops to their deaths.
I couldn’t have them buried with the ship.
As the evacuation order came down, soldiers donned life jackets and jumped into the water using the rear ramp.
There were lifeboats available, but wearing life jackets seemed the better option right now.
Floating in the water, rescue wouldn’t be difficult.
Most of the people here would be rescued.
Of course, their fate would depend greatly on whose hands pulled them from the sea.
I desperately hoped it wouldn’t be the Rebel Forces.
.
.
.
The Philippine Military jumped from the ship.
Watching this, Shin Jung-gi squeezed his eyes shut in frustration.
He didn’t want to see it.
Abandoning ship meant the enemy had given up the fight.
It was a signal of surrender.
I wish this moment had lasted longer—it’s such a shame it ended so quickly.
The enemy should have returned fire.
They should have fired their cannons—I’m disappointed I didn’t get to see that.
There’s a lingering regret that the Philippine Military gave up too easily.
They should have fought to the very end.
But when the enemy surrenders like that, I can’t continue attacking.
Part of me wants to lob a few mortar rounds among the people floating in the water.
I’m so curious what would happen then.
Yet I can’t do it.
Before the operation, Alex had said something.
“We don’t kill people who’ve surrendered. That’s absolutely off limits.”
“But aren’t these guys coming here to die anyway? What’s the problem with killing people who came to die?”
“They’re not coming to die. They’re following orders while prepared for death. They’re brave soldiers. So we can’t treat them carelessly.”
“But still…”
“You’re the same. You’re one of our brave soldiers too. You’re doing your best to protect us. And we’ll do our best to protect you. So just fight. No murder, no massacre.”
Shin Jung-gi was inwardly surprised.
He’d always thought of him as a psychopath, some kind of monster, but hearing him say they were all under the same roof—that he belonged—made him feel a little grateful.
He looked at Alex with that gratitude.
“What? Why are you glaring at me? What? You don’t like it? Too bad. Some things just can’t be done.”
He wasn’t glaring.
Remembering the conversation with Alex, Shin Jung-gi suppressed a laugh that was trying to escape and reached for the radio.
“Begin recovery.”
“Recovery operation commencing.”
The voice crackled through the radio announcing the operation’s start, and the ships docked at Zamboanga Harbor set sail in unison.
The boats approached the people floundering in the sea and began broadcasting.
“From now on, you will remove your military uniforms and board the boats.”
“Remove everything except your underwear.”
“I repeat. Remove all clothing. Remove your shoes as well.”
The Philippine Military soldiers floating in life jackets began stripping off their clothes.
They removed their life jackets and used them as support while undressing.
Once stripped, the soldiers were able to board the boats.
The reason for the strip search was simple.
To ensure they weren’t armed.
We made them remove everything in case they were hiding guns or grenades in their clothing.
The Philippine Military soldiers boarded the boats after undressing.
It was humiliating, but there was no choice.
It was the only way to survive.
The Philippine Military soldiers who boarded were transported to a warehouse in Zamboanga.
Upon arrival at the warehouse, we distributed towels, mentioning they might catch a cold.
We issued slippers and clothing.
The Philippine Military soldiers, bewildered, removed their wet underwear and changed into fresh ones.
They sat in the warehouse wearing training suits.
The massive warehouse was soon filled with Philippine Military soldiers.
.
.
.
“The collection operation is complete.”
Looking at the sea, not a single person remained floating where they had been.
The space they occupied was now filled with the military uniforms they had discarded.
Other boats were gathering up all those clothes.
“Just to be safe, take a boat out to the open sea. There might be people who drifted away with the current.”
“Understood.”
“And move the floating warships further into the harbor.”
“Understood.”
I turned my attention to the interior of the warehouse.
The people who had been floating in the water moments ago now sat in identical training suits, perfectly aligned in rows.
No one had ordered them to form lines, but being soldiers, they naturally aligned themselves.
Over a thousand people filled the warehouse.
I picked up the microphone and stepped onto the podium.
“Hello. I am Alex.”
The Philippine Military soldiers showed no reaction to my greeting.
Rather, their faces showed confusion—what is this?
“Are the clothes uncomfortable?”
I asked lightly about their condition, but they remained silent.
I turned my gaze away and swept across the warehouse before continuing.
“I would have preferred a more suitable venue, but given the urgency of accommodating so many people, options were limited. I hope you’ll understand.”
“If anyone has sustained injuries, please seek medical treatment.”
“We’ve prepared meals. I’m not certain they’ll suit your tastes, but please enjoy them freely.”
At that moment, the door opened and food began flowing in from one side.
Tables were set up, and the prepared dishes were arranged on them.
Everything was arranged buffet-style for easy access.
Plates were stacked abundantly on one side.
Contrary to my goodwill, the Philippine Military’s eyes were filled with suspicion and hostility as they observed this.
“Why are you doing this? Did you poison the food?”
A question came from somewhere in the crowd.
I found the Philippine Military’s wariness endearing.
It was impressive how they were determined to maintain their dignity until the very end.
Tch, what would I gain from killing you?
“Hahaha. If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to eat. If you find this place unpleasant, you’re free to leave. No one will stop you.”
“What?”
“If we had intended to kill you, we wouldn’t have made things so complicated. We could have simply sunk the ship you were on, or shot you while you were floating in life jackets… We are always grateful for your military’s dedication. We respect and honor you for coming all this way to carry out missions that demand your lives. That’s all. We ask nothing of you. Rest here for a while and then leave.”
I myself am a former soldier.
Soldiers receive orders, deploy, and execute them.
It’s the natural duty of a soldier.
Even if that duty contradicts one’s personal will, even if it’s an unjust mission, one must still carry it out.
In a sense, these men are also soldiers who received orders and deployed.
Nothing more, nothing less.
I had no desire to treat such people as enemies or prisoners of war.
I had no intention of taking them hostage or threatening them.
And they must have endured quite a journey, having been on a ship for over twenty hours.
Falling into the water since morning.
A warm bowl of soup would surely help.
I descended from the platform and picked up a plate.
Then I filled it with food.
I thought it would be best to demonstrate first.
I filled the plate with several dishes and began eating.
There were no chairs or tables.
I simply sat down on the floor and began eating.
A few of my men picked up plates, filled them with food, and began eating.
That was as far as it went.
The Philippine Military didn’t pick up any plates.
They simply watched the situation, gauging the atmosphere.
Their hesitation just irritated me.
If you want to eat, just eat.
Why is he being so cautious?
“Hey! Just eat. You’re not even paying for it, yet you’re acting so reserved. They say during the World Wars, soldiers on opposing sides would play soccer and share meals with each other. What’s with all this hesitation over a single meal between fellow soldiers? Just eat. Eat and rest, or leave, or play around. Do whatever you want. I won’t say anything about it.”
At my words, several of them hesitated before standing up and grabbing plates.
They began filling their plates with food.
Once a few started moving, the rest followed automatically.
Everyone stood up, formed a line, and filled their plates.
I kept refilling the food.
We couldn’t afford to run out.
The expressions on the Philippine Military soldiers’ faces began to change.
As the delicious food went down, their stiff expressions softened.
They looked more at ease.
That was enough.
.
.
.
“Young Boss. There’s still personnel remaining on that ship.”
Dennis, who had been moving the Philippine Military’s ship to the harbor, came to me and spoke.
At Dennis’s words, I looked toward the sea—everything had been neatly organized, with only a single vessel standing precariously.
“Why is that still there?”
“He says as captain, he must share the ship’s fate.”
“A ridiculous romantic has appeared. Let’s go.”
Shortly after, we headed to the bridge of the escort ship.
There stood a man who looked unmistakably like a soldier, bound at the waist to the bridge with steel cable.
He held a rifle in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
As we approached, a warning came from inside.
“Don’t come closer. At least I can take two or three of you with me.”
He looked like a wounded kitten growling, and it was pitiful.
He was completely on guard.
“How long are you planning to stay here?”
“Why does it matter how long I stay? I don’t want to talk anymore with someone who doesn’t even know the basic fact that a captain must go down with his ship.”
“The internet has corrupted everyone’s minds.”
“What?”
“Have you seen Titanic? Or watched a Japanese film about a battleship sinking with its crew?”
“······”
“That’s all nonsense. So you don’t need to do that. And this ship won’t sink. You’ll starve to death long before this ship goes down. Why did you tie yourself up like that anyway? Aren’t you going to use the bathroom? Are you planning to defecate right here?”
“···..”
“Let’s go. We’re not enemies. We simply crossed paths due to misfortune. Let’s end it here.”
“That still won’t work. You must fulfill your duties as a commander.”
“What are a commander’s duties? Is guarding a ship you can’t even move a commander’s responsibility? Or is it a commander’s duty to care for and lead your subordinates to the very end?”
“Subordinates?”
“I’ve taken all the people who fell into the sea, fed them, and they’re resting now. My subordinates are waiting for you, Commander. You need to go show them you’re alive and well. Only then can we think about retaliation or anything else.”
Lacambini glanced at me once, then posed a question.
Laden with suspicion.
“Don’t you resent me? Why are you doing this?”
“I told you already. We were simply unfortunate, that’s all. We were just following orders and responding to the call. Isn’t it best if we can get through this without fighting, without anyone getting hurt?”
“···..”
“At least, I would prefer to spend my final moments with my subordinates rather than go down with the ship.”
Lacambini looked at the man again.
His tone and demeanor seemed casual, but his eyes held genuine sincerity.
Lacambini decided to trust that gaze, at least once.
Truthfully, I had known all along that remaining in the bridge wasn’t the answer.
If I stayed here any longer, I would simply starve to death.
If I returned, I couldn’t escape punishment.
Yet as a commander, I felt compelled to do something.
For Lacambini, it was an impossible situation either way.
It seemed better to spend the end with my subordinates than to remain alone on the ship.
This man had given Lacambini a choice.
Lacambini quietly began to unbind the steel cables wrapped around his body.
He moved toward the warehouse where the Philippine Military was stationed.
He entered the warehouse.
Someone spotted Lacambini entering the warehouse.
That soldier shouted loudly.
“Unit, attention! Salute the Commander!”
In response to the man’s call, all one thousand soldiers in the warehouse saluted Lacambini.
It was a magnificent sight.
Lacambini felt his throat tighten.
I am a defeated commander.
A defeated commander has no right to receive such a salute.
Yet my subordinates still acknowledged me as their superior, and that made me feel apologetic and guilty.
So that my subordinates’ hands would not be ashamed, Lacambini raised his hand to accept their salute.
Then he turned around.
Behind him stood the casual man.
Lacambini saluted him.
He raised his hand with the utmost respect, deference, and formality that Lacambini could offer.
It was gratitude for not killing his subordinates and protecting them like this.
It was thanks for changing his life.
The man too adjusted his posture and accepted the salute with a sharp, formal stance.
It was then that Lacambini understood.
That he had found someone he could truly respect.
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.
.
“Handle them carefully. Carefully.”
In one corner of Zamboanga Port, the Philippine Military was conducting a search of the vessel they had arrived on.
They were extracting all the weapons the enemy had brought and moving them to the Rebel Base.
Shin Jung-gi carefully observed the warship the enemy had arrived in.
He was collecting the mounted weapons and personal firearms.
Then, upon boarding the Landing Ship, he discovered ten armored vehicles.
The ten armored vehicles were secured in pristine condition.
Shin Jung-gi’s eyes gleamed as he beheld the armored vehicles intact aboard the Landing Ship.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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