Hong Kong variety show: The mastermind behind the scenes is emerging.

West Kowloon, a seemingly ordinary trading company building.

This is the headquarters of an international counterfeit currency syndicate, and the central hub through which countless counterfeit banknotes flow into the world.

The past six months in Hong Kong have been as exciting as a Hollywood blockbuster currently showing. From the battle for leadership of the Hung Hing triad, to the feud between the Kowloon Walled City boss and the mad dog Wong Kau, to the epic rainy night assassin brawl on Lantau Island that will go down in history... these legendary stories, even if adapted to the big screen exactly as they are, would definitely become classic crime films that are both critically acclaimed and commercially successful.

Mr. Yao, one of the tycoons of Hong Kong's dark side and the mastermind behind a vast counterfeit currency empire, once stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, sipping red wine, and reminiscing about these underworld tales. He even jokingly told his subordinates that if these stories were ever made into a movie, he would definitely rent out a theater to support it and contribute his share of the box office revenue.

At that time, he was a detached spectator, enjoying the pleasure of watching from the sidelines.

Unfortunately, while everyone is willing to watch the story from outside the screen, not everyone can accept becoming a part of this bloody story.

Today's international counterfeit currency syndicate has been forcibly drawn into this legendary story unfolding under an unseen undercurrent.

"Mr. Yao!"

"Something terrible has happened!"

A series of hurried and frantic footsteps broke the silence that had been present on the top floor of the headquarters.

As the second-in-command of an international counterfeit currency syndicate, Tan Cheng (Acheng) was known for his ruthlessness and composure. He liked to wear white suits, with his hair neatly slicked back, and to imitate Mr. Yao's refined manners. But today, he was completely devoid of his usual calm and collected demeanor.

He was sweating profusely, his tie was askew, and he was clutching a crumpled banknote tightly in his hand. Like a cat whose foot had been burned, he rushed headlong to Mr. Yao's office door.

He obtained this from a major buyer in an arms deal in Africa, who consumed one-tenth of the group's "products" annually. However, this month, the arms dealer stated that he would no longer purchase goods from the group. After Tan Cheng contacted him, he gave his reason—a super-large US dollar bill. The arms dealer indicated that he would only purchase better products from now on.

His urgency made him forget the rules; without even thinking to ask the secretary about the situation inside, he simply reached out and pushed the door open.

"Mr. Yao, something terrible has happened—"

"Bang!"

The heavy wooden door, covered with Scottish calfskin, was suddenly pushed open.

Tan Cheng's words were abruptly cut off as he realized with astonishment that there was a guest in Mr. Yao's office.

Moreover, it was a guest who gave him the creeps.

In front of the large mahogany desk, besides Mr. Yao with a gloomy expression, a middle-aged man in a dark suit was sitting on the sofa.

The man was thin, his skin as pale as a patient who had never seen the sun, and he wore gold-rimmed glasses. He held a clean white handkerchief in his hand and was slowly wiping the corner of his mouth, his every move exuding a sickly elegance.

"So you're here too... Mr. Hong."

Tan Cheng's face instantly turned ugly, and he subconsciously stuffed the "Sub-Super Dollar" note in his hand into his pocket.

He recognized the man in front of him.

Mr. Hung (洪文刚).

The group's long-time friend and also its most greedy long-term customer.

This man, cloaked in the guise of a legitimate businessman, was secretly engaged in the most sordid and inhumane activities—human organ trafficking. Through Southeast Asian gang networks, he kidnapped tourists visiting Thailand or local impoverished people, and brutally harvested their hearts, kidneys, and corneas, selling them at exorbitant prices to wealthy individuals worldwide in dire need of transplants.

This is an extremely profitable industry, a business that profits from human suffering, but human greed knows no bounds.

To further reduce procurement costs and create higher profit margins, Hong Wengang often mixed genuine and counterfeit banknotes when "purchasing" from local Southeast Asian gangs. The source of those indistinguishable counterfeit banknotes in his possession was an international counterfeit currency syndicate.

"Hey, isn't this Ah Cheng?"

Hong Wengang slowly turned his head, his gaze behind his gold-rimmed glasses as cold as a snake. He grinned, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth, his voice weak yet chilling, "So flustered, is the police here?"

"No...no."

Tan Chengqiang forced a smile that looked more like a grimace and greeted him, "Mr. Hong, it's been a long time."

Knowing he had made a mistake, he could only speak while glancing at Mr. Yao with shifty eyes, sending out a distress signal.

Mr. Yao glanced at him without showing any emotion, a hint of displeasure flashing across his face at Tan Cheng's loud and boisterous manner. However, he couldn't show it in front of outsiders, so he could only wave his hand helplessly, signaling Tan Cheng to listen from the side.

"Sit down, Cheng," Mr. Yao said calmly.

Tan Cheng sat down on the sofa in the corner, feeling uneasy, but the counterfeit bill in his pocket made him stiff.

Faced with Tan Cheng's incompetence, Mr. Yao's disappointment deepened, and he even felt a pang of regret for abandoning Song Zihao. Back then, Song Zihao, no matter what happened, remained calm and composed even in the face of adversity.

"Mr. Hong, how's your business lately?" Tan asked politely, as a way of covering up his embarrassment.

As a result, the cunning Hong Wengang seemed to have been waiting for this sentence, and immediately seized the opportunity to speak.

"Okay? Cough cough..."

Hong Wengang coughed lightly twice, covering his mouth with a handkerchief, his eyes turning sinister. "Ah Cheng, I haven't been doing well lately. Or rather, I've been in terrible shape."

"How so?" Although Mr. Yao knew that this old fox was about to start his performance, he could only go along with the conversation.

"Those damned country bumpkins, I don't know whose nonsense they've been listening to, they've been acting like they've gone mad lately, chasing after me and demanding I pay with the new dollar bills!"

Hong Wengang pointed his pale hand in the air, his tone carrying an unsettling, bloodthirsty undertone, "They said if we don't use those new US dollar bills for transactions, all future transactions with me will be more expensive! Damn it!"

"Thank God! I painstakingly pulled strings and risked everything to provide those wealthy people with 'heart-to-heart' services, saving lives is a great act of merit! I also had to feed the vampires along the way, and I only made a few dollars in profit in the process! And now those country bumpkins who provided the 'raw materials' want me to pay more? This is practically asking for my life!"

"So I've been forced into a corner and have no choice but to come to you for help."

As Hong Wengang complained, his shrewd eyes, hidden behind his glasses, remained fixed on Mr. Yao's face, observing every micro-expression of the counterfeit money tycoon.

Mr. Yao took a deep breath and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

He knew Hong Wengang too well; that old bastard was just taking advantage of the situation.

"Brother Hong, I know your difficulties."

Mr. Yao picked up his teacup, his tone calm as he tried to maintain the composure, "But please understand my difficulties. The new version of the US dollar bill you're interested in has an extremely high technical barrier. It's not that we can't make it, but once we do... are you sure you can accept that price?"

Bluffing is a survival skill that every cunning old fox must master.

Mr. Yao knew very well that with the current level of his banknote printing plant, it was impossible to counterfeit the "super-dollar" banknotes that had just appeared on the market. He said this purely to remind Hong Wengang: Don't just look at how advanced other people's banknotes are; you get what you pay for. With your stingy personality, can you afford them?

Mr. Yao's words truly struck a chord with Hong Wengang.

Although Hong Wengang doesn't make counterfeit money, he's an expert at using it. Years of experience have taught him that behind every new version of the super counterfeit banknote lies an extremely high production cost.

But he can also see future trends.

As counterfeit versions of the US dollar become increasingly rampant and banks around the world intensify their crackdowns, the underworld's trading activities will inevitably shift towards the use of the new version of the US dollar.

It's just a price increase now. When all black market transactions start refusing to accept old US dollars, if Hong Wengang doesn't keep up with the times, he'll be left with nothing.

This is also one of the purposes of his visit to the international counterfeit currency group today: to test them.

He came to inquire about the production status of the new banknotes from Mr. Yao. However, judging from Mr. Yao's evasive answers, his group was clearly not ready yet.

"That old fox is all bark and no bite."

Having made up his mind, Hong Wengang immediately adopted a serious tone.

"Brother Yao, times have changed, you mustn't fall behind."

Hong Wengang said with feigned emotion, leaning forward and lowering his voice, "I'm still looking forward to continuing to work with you, my old friend, in this new era."

Having laid the groundwork enough, Hong Wengang finally revealed his true intentions: "Old buddy, regarding that $1000 million in counterfeit money I ordered from you this time, I think..."

I'll give you a 20% discount on this batch of goods.

Before Hong Wengang could finish speaking, Mr. Yao decisively interrupted him.

Mr. Yao didn't want to listen to Hong Wengang's nonsense anymore, nor did he want him to be too blunt about "threatening" him, as that would be a slap in his own face.

"Mr. Hong, the pace of change in the world is not necessarily as fast as you imagine. Old versions of US dollars are still hard currency."

"Hahaha, cough cough cough... Brother Yao! I knew you were a straightforward person!"

Hong Wengang had achieved his goal. He let out a somewhat neurotic laugh, a sickly blush rising on his pale face. "Of course, I also hope that the times change more slowly. After all, we're all old guys, and our bodies aren't what they used to be. If the times change too fast, our old legs can't keep up."

At this point, he stood up, slowly straightened his collar, and gave Mr. Yao and Tan Cheng, whose face was grim, a meaningful look.

"But unfortunately, the wheels of time keep rolling forward and will never stop because of anyone's complaints."

"We have no choice but to grit our teeth and desperately try to keep up. Otherwise, we'll be crushed into dust."

After saying this philosophical remark, Hong Wengang picked up the coffee on the table and drank it all in one gulp, as if he were drinking someone's blood.

"Old friend, I'm tied up with worldly affairs here, and I have a few surgeries waiting for me to arrange, so I'll be taking my leave now."

"Take care, Brother Hong, and welcome back next time."

Mr. Yao didn't even get up, let alone see the guest off. He was just being polite, but watched Hong Wengang's thin figure walk out of the office door with a cold look in his eyes.

"Click".

Wait until that expensive wooden office door closes again.

Mr. Yao's straight back slumped instantly, as if he had aged ten years in an instant. He leaned back in his chair, looking dejected, took off his glasses, and rubbed his temples.

That composure I showed just now was all an act.

"Bring it here," Mr. Yao said weakly, without opening his eyes. "Cheng, bring me that counterfeit bill and let me see it."

"Okay, Mr. Yao."

Knowing the gravity of the matter, Tan Cheng abandoned his usual arrogance. He quickly stood up from the sofa, handed Mr. Yao the clenched banknotes in his hand, which were even slightly damp with sweat.

Unlike Tan Cheng, who only knows how to plot and fight, Mr. Yao has a genuine technical background.

In his youth, he was a top-notch printing plate retoucher. The counterfeit banknote printing plates used by his group were made by him and a printing plate master who has since "passed away." It's safe to say that Mr. Yao is definitely among the top twenty in the world when it comes to his knowledge and appreciation of US dollars.

He put his glasses back on, took the crumpled banknote, and smoothed it out.

Just one glance.

Mr. Yao's pupils suddenly contracted.

"hiss--"

He gasped, his fingers beginning to tremble slightly.

A true expert's skill is immediately apparent.

He could tell that the counterfeit banknote on the table was printed on top-grade acid-free paper. The crispness and feel of this paper couldn't be replicated by any chemical treatment. Moreover, the machine that printed it was definitely a legitimate banknote printing press, perhaps even a national-level piece of equipment, certainly not some second-rate product modified from an offset printing press or a no-name brand printing press!

Mr. Yao took out a high-powered magnifying glass from the drawer, turned on the desk lamp, and began to carefully examine every detail on it, inch by inch.

Tan Cheng didn't dare to breathe loudly, staring intently at Mr. Yao's face.

Five minutes passed.

Fine beads of sweat appeared on Mr. Yao's forehead.

In terms of color-changing inks, the color is perfect, and the light and shadow transitions are extremely natural.

In terms of gravure printing, Franklin's collar and eyes are clearly and distinctly imprinted with a strong three-dimensional effect.

If it weren't for the two imperfections that Lu Chen specifically requested to be left out—the microtext and the security thread—Mr. Yao would even suspect that this was a genuine banknote that had flowed out of the Federal Reserve!

"call……"

Finally, after nearly ten minutes of silence, Mr. Yao let out a long sigh, took off his glasses, and slumped into his chair.

"I just can't understand it... I really can't understand it," Mr. Yao shook his head, his eyes filled with disbelief. "How did they manage to get their hands on so many core anti-counterfeiting features? This color-changing ink is a controlled substance; it's impossible to buy... and this paper..."

"Mr. Yao, is this...is this really fake?" Tan Cheng asked cautiously.

"It's fake."

Mr. Yao stated definitively, "But one thing I can say for sure is that this kind of counterfeit money is extremely difficult and costly to produce!"

As if to regain some confidence, Mr. Yao comforted himself, saying, "The other party definitely can't mass-produce this level of technology, or the cost would be too high to make a profit. So, it won't pose a fatal threat to our group for the time being."

After saying that, he sat up straight again, a hint of indomitable fighting spirit flashing in his eyes.

"However, that bastard Hong Wengang is right; the times will eventually move forward."

Mr. Yao clenched his fist. "If others can do it, so can we! Cheng, notify the technical department to go all out! We must find a way to catch up with them!"

However, just as Mr. Yao was full of fighting spirit and trying to break through the technical barriers of the new version of the US dollar,

Outside the building.

Hong Wengang had just sat down in the bulletproof Mercedes when his mobile phone suddenly rang.

"Feed?" Hong Wengang answered the phone, his voice sounding somewhat impatient.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hong Wengang."

A voice with a strong Chongqing accent, processed by a voice changer, came from the other end of the phone.

"Who are you……?"

Hong Wengang quickly searched his memory and confirmed that he did not recognize the voice.

"Mr. Hong Wengang, you may call me—the painter."

The woman's voice chuckled softly, like a devil's whisper:

"You should have seen my work recently."