Courtyard House: First, kill the hypocrites, leave none alive.

Chapter 210 Uncle Quan's Trouble

Kwai Chung Pier, Kowloon.

Night had fallen, and the sea was pitch black, with only a few scattered lights on cargo ships in the distance.

A salty sea breeze blew by, carrying the chill of early autumn, causing the metal containers on the dock to creak slightly.

Warehouse No. 3

This is Uncle Quan's territory, specifically used to store "inconvenient" goods.

Four men in black short jackets stood at the warehouse entrance, knives at their waists, their eyes warily scanning their surroundings.

The warehouse was dimly lit.

Uncle Quan stood in front of a dilapidated wooden table, a cigar between his fingers, a smile on his face.

There were three people standing in front of him.

The leader, in his thirties, had dark skin and a lean build. He wore a floral shirt, which he left open, revealing a long scar on his chest.

His eyes were small but bright, and when he looked at people, it was like a snake staring at its prey, making people feel uncomfortable.

Two attendants stood behind him, both with the same dark skin, strong and muscular, their hands resting on the hilts of their guns.

"Mr. Ruan".

Uncle Quan spoke, his voice as warm as if he were meeting an old friend.

"have not seen you for a long time."

The man named Ruan Biao smiled.

The smile was brief, revealing a set of teeth stained black by betel nuts.

"Uncle Quan,"

He said in a hoarse voice with a heavy Southeast Asian accent, "Long time no see."

The two shook hands.

Uncle Quan felt that the hand was strong, rough, and full of calluses—it was the hand that had been holding a gun for many years.

"Please sit down."

Uncle Quan pointed to the chairs next to him.

Ruan Biao did not sit down.

He stood there, his gaze slowly sweeping across the warehouse, looking at the mountains of wooden crates and the neatly stacked goods.

"Uncle Quan,"

He spoke up, "What happened to my last shipment?"

Uncle Quan's smile froze for a moment.

It was just a fleeting moment.

Then he returned to normal.

"Mr. Ruan,"

He said, "That was an accident."

Ruan Biao looked at him but didn't say anything.

Uncle Quan continued, "I personally arranged for people to pack your goods, but we found that thirteen boxes of bullets were missing from the warehouse."

He paused.

"Mr. Ruan, I've been trying to get to the bottom of this matter. But as you know, things at the docks are difficult to investigate."

Ruan Biao continued to look at him.

There was no expression in those small eyes.

"Uncle Quan,"

He said, "I came here in person this time because I want to find out the truth."

Uncle Quan's heart sank slightly.

He knew who this Ruan Biao was.

On the other side of Borneo, there were warlords who controlled their own territories.

His brother, Ruan Xiong, had more than two thousand men under his command and controlled several rubber plantations and tin mines. Even the local government couldn't do anything about them.

Ruan Biao was his younger brother, who was in charge of purchasing weapons.

The last shipment consisted of submachine guns and bullets, which were transported by sea, but thirteen boxes were lost in the warehouse.

Say no more, say less.

But for someone like Ruan Xiong, it's not a matter of quantity.

It's a matter of face.

"Mr. Ruan,"

Uncle Quan said, "Don't worry, I will definitely give you an explanation for this matter."

Ruan Biao looked at him.

"What explanation?"

Uncle Quan was silent for a second.

"The goods were lost on my territory."

He said, "I'll pay."

Ruan Biao's eyebrows twitched.

"pay?"

Uncle Quan nodded.

"Thirteen boxes of bullets, I'll compensate you with thirteen boxes. Plus one more box, as a small token of my appreciation."

Ruan Biao did not speak.

He stared at Uncle Quan for a long time.

The warehouse was extremely quiet, with only the creaking of the metal sheets in the sea breeze.

Then Ruan Biao laughed.

The smile was brief, revealing a mouthful of black teeth.

"Uncle Quan,"

He said, "That's great."

Uncle Quan felt a little relieved.

But only a little.

He knew that Ruan Biao was not someone who could be easily dealt with.

"but--"

Ruan Biao spoke.

Uncle Quan's heart jumped again.

Ruan Biao looked at him, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"Uncle Quan,"

He asked, "How exactly were those thirteen boxes of ammunition lost?"

Uncle Quan was silent for a second.

"Mr. Ruan, I've checked."

He said, "The number was correct when the goods were packed. The number was also correct when they were unloaded. But when the goods arrived at the warehouse, there was a shortage."

He paused.

"I suspect someone stole it in the middle of the night."

Ruan Biao nodded.

Uncle Quan said, "That warehouse is mine, and the people there are mine, so there shouldn't be any problem. But there are a few other gang members nearby."

Ruan Biao looked at him.

"Where are those people?"

Uncle Quan shook his head.

"Those are people from other gangs, I can't interfere, and I don't have any evidence right now."

Ruan Biao did not speak.

He looked at Uncle Quan, his small eyes devoid of any expression.

Uncle Quan felt a chill run down his spine from his gaze.

He knew that this person was judging whether what he was saying was true.

He knew that if this person felt he was lying to him—

The consequences could be disastrous.

"Mr. Ruan,"

He spoke sincerely, "Everything I said is true. I personally supervised the packing of that batch of goods. When problems arose, I was even more anxious than you were. You're a long-time customer; how could I possibly cheat you?"

Ruan Biao remained silent for a few seconds.

Then he nodded.

"Uncle Quan,"

He said, "I believe you."

Uncle Quan finally felt relieved.

"Thank you, Mr. Ruan."

Ruan Biao waved his hand.

"Let's not talk about that."

He walked up to Uncle Quan and extended his hand.

"Uncle Quan," he said, "get that batch of bullets delivered as soon as possible. And make sure the next shipment arrives on time."

Uncle Quan grasped his hand.

"Don't worry, Mr. Ruan."