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Chapter 390c
🕑 Added 2025-09-22 15:00:21 +0000 UTCChapter 390c
2-in-1-chapter
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That didn’t align with their usual methods.
While everyone was still speculating, with rumors evolving by the hour, a separate incident suddenly captured the public’s attention.
A convoy transporting Shining, operated by the Shining Group, had been hijacked.
It was common knowledge that Bolivia, being landlocked, had no direct access to seaports. If the Shining Group wanted to export their product to places like the New United States or Europe, it had to be moved by sea or air.
But air transport was too expensive and far more vulnerable to interception by agencies like the NUSA DEA or Europol.
Ocean routes, on the other hand, were far safer and more discreet, with significantly lower costs. They also allowed for larger quantities of product to be moved per shipment.
Therefore, the Shining Group relied exclusively on sea routes.
Given Bolivia’s lack of coastline, the product first had to be transported by land to a coastal nation’s port, from which it could be shipped to Europe or the New United States.
This time, it was during the overland phase that the convoy was attacked.
The Shining Group’s practice of moving large quantities in a single trip, consolidating goods at the port before sending them out globally, meant that each shipment carried immense value.
Losing even one convoy would be a financial disaster.
And this time, that was exactly what happened.
What made it even harder to grasp was that the attackers didn’t seem interested in the cargo itself—despite its astronomical value.
The entire load of Shining was left untouched, dumped alongside the corpses of the Shining Group’s armed escort, then openly incinerated on-site.
The Shining Group lost nearly fifty million euros in that single attack.
The scale of the loss triggered outrage across the Shining Group’s upper ranks.
Their logistics and shipping routes were supposed to be classified, known only to a few trusted individuals within the organization.
So how had that unknown force managed to pinpoint their movements with such accuracy?
Within the upper echelons of the Shining Group, some began to suspect that if there was an actor in Bolivia capable of executing such a clean, invisible operation, it could only be Aurora PMC.
However, that theory was quickly dismissed by others within the organization.
After all, according to the call made by Gustavo, the situation was “completely under control, and Aurora PMC had agreed to cooperate.”
One possibility, of course, was that Gustavo had made this statement under duress.
But even that was considered unlikely by most of the leadership.
Gustavo’s wife was essentially a hostage, living under the Shining Group’s watch, and he loved her deeply.
He knew full well that if he ever betrayed the Shining Group, his wife would be sealed into a cement barrel and dumped into the eastern Pacific without hesitation.....only once they were done with her.
But if it hadn’t been Aurora PMC, then who could it have been?
That was what continued to baffle the Shining Group’s leadership.
Just then, members of Bolivia’s former elite class came knocking.
The Shining Group understood their motive immediately—they wanted support to reclaim political control of Bolivia.
But the leadership wasn’t naive.
It was clear to them that these elites were only good at exploiting the population. When it came to actual combat, they were useless.
Even back when they held sway over half the country, their military forces had still been no match for the insurgents.
Now they had been completely driven out, their assets seized by Aurora PMC. They had nothing left to bargain with.
At first, the Shining Group’s leadership dismissed them for exactly that reason.
But after some internal discussion, they unexpectedly changed their stance and decided to meet with the elite representatives anyway—just to see what cards they were holding.
Although they had already acknowledged that Bolivia was beginning to take the shape of Aurora PMC’s domain, there was still room for maneuvering, just as certain noble families had once tried to hedge their bets during the Wars of the Roses, hoping to survive no matter who won.
There was no harm in hearing the elites out, as long as they didn’t ask for anything too outrageous.
And if the terms were favorable, it wasn’t out of the question to offer some assistance.
Thus, the Shining Group dispatched their second-in-command to meet the elites aboard a luxury yacht.
The vessel was owned by the Shining Group, registered under Chilean ownership, and usually docked at a port in Chile when not in use.
That port, in fact, served as one of the Shining Group’s discreet export points for its products around the world.
Once the yacht, moored at the dock, picked up the elite representatives, it departed for open waters.
What they didn’t know was that not long after the yacht left, an elite strike team numbering several dozen arrived in the area near the port.
“Boss, should we go in now and take them down?” asked Goro Takemura, watching the port’s lazy, inattentive guards from afar.
The port, although situated within Chilean territory, had been leased to the Shining Group through underground back channels. The group paid a hefty annual fee to the Chilean government in exchange for exclusive use of the location, which was long-abandoned and rarely used by anyone else.
Because it was remote and had been out of service for years, it rarely saw visitors. The guards stationed there had grown incredibly complacent.
Takemura estimated that a single charge would be enough to disarm and subdue the lot of them.
But Leo, after some thought, vetoed the idea.
They weren’t here for small fry—they had come to catch the big fish.
“Stay hidden for now. Have the snipers find elevated positions. We wait until the yacht returns—then we strike.”
The team spread out and concealed themselves in the dense forest surrounding the port. The distance and vegetation ensured they remained undetected.
They lay in wait for nearly five or six hours before a faint silhouette appeared on the horizon—the returning yacht.
Leo’s expression sharpened.
“All units, stay alert. Move on my command.”
The comms channel crackled with quiet acknowledgments.
The port guards, too, spotted the returning yacht and quickly emerged from their cabins, putting on a show of diligence.
These men were all ex-military, now working as hired guns for the Shining Group.
At first, they’d been serious about their duties—standing watch, patrolling the perimeter, maintaining standard protocol.
But the longer they were stationed at this remote outpost, the more that discipline eroded.
Eventually, they realized that all their effort amounted to nothing. Day after day, they were guarding nothing but air, patrolling for the sake of patrols.
Naturally, they grew lazy. Only when cargo arrived or when higher-ups came to inspect did they bother to look the part.
As soldiers, at least they once had honor. As mercenaries, they worked purely for the paycheck, without concern for principle.
As the yacht drew closer, two figures standing at the bow came into Leo’s line of sight.
One of them was a member of the elite class who had recently visited the presidential palace to demand the return of their assets. The other was the Shining Group’s second-in-command—identified earlier through Gustavo’s neural link.
Given how closely the two were standing, it was obvious their negotiations had gone smoothly.
In the adult world, almost everything boiled down to mutual interests. Especially for a group like Shining, which dealt in profit above all, there was no such thing as altruism.
Whatever the elites had offered must have been valuable enough to earn the Shining Group’s support.
Judging by how the two looked as though they were moments away from performing some sacred oath of brotherhood, Leo couldn’t help but wonder what expressions they would wear when the ambush was sprung.
The yacht finally docked, and its passengers began disembarking.
A vessel of that size naturally held more than just the Shining Group’s second-in-command and the elite representative.
In fact, the yacht also carried high-ranking elites and tycoons from Peru and Chile.
Laughing and chatting, they stepped onto the dock without the faintest awareness that danger was imminent.
But one person seemed to sense something—Shining’s second-in-command suddenly froze in place.
Despite being part of the Shining Group, he was nothing like the stereotypical villain: not cruel, not visibly dangerous.
Yanan was an elderly man with snow-white hair and a warm, benevolent expression.
To anyone unfamiliar with him, he would easily be mistaken for a retired professor of some distinction.
“Mr. Yanan, is something wrong?”
The speaker was a woman with sun-kissed skin and jet-black hair.
Her name was Flores, a member of Bolivia’s elite class, and the designated representative sent to negotiate with the Shining Group.
“Something feels off, Miss Flores. I think we should return to the yacht.”
