Southern guerrilla warfare: I led the Red Seventh Army Corps to amassed a million troops.

A young staff officer nearby couldn't help but ask, "Commander, is this Wang Yaowu very capable?"

"Whether he's formidable or not, you'll only know after you've fought him. But let me remind you, I can count the number of KMT generals whose names I can remember on one hand. He's one of them."

Zhou Zeyuan's tone was unusually stern, which made everyone's hearts skip a beat.

Just then, the curtain was lifted again.

The guard, Xiao Zhong, leaned in halfway, a hint of delight on his face: "Commander, that Mayer is here again! He brought several large boxes, which look quite heavy."

Zhou Zeyuan's eyes lit up, and the seriousness on his face vanished instantly: "Haha! Please come in! Please come in!"

Xiao Zhong turned and went out. A moment later, Mayier appeared at the tent entrance.

The Danish-American businessman was dressed today in a well-tailored dark gray suit, his hair neatly combed.

"Mr. Zhou, it's a pleasure to meet you." Mayer took off his hat and bowed slightly.

Zhou Zeyuan waved his hand: "Don't be so polite, have a seat."

The porters placed the boxes on the ground with a dull thud, making the wooden floor tremble.

Mayer bent down and opened the first box.

The light inside the tent wasn't bright to begin with, but the moment the lid was lifted, everyone's eyes were momentarily blinded.

The gold bars were neatly stacked in the box, their golden luster shimmering under the oil lamp like a frozen sunset.

Several staff officers nearby gasped in unison.

Mayer then opened the second and third boxes.

The gold bars were identical, stacked neatly, each one gleaming with a warm metallic luster.

"Mr. Zhou, the three million silver dollars you gave me have all been converted into machinery, medicine, and gold bars. This is the last batch; please count them."

Zhou Zeyuan walked to the box, picked up a gold bar, weighed it in his hand, and put it back.

"This kind of thing can be handled by your subordinates. Mr. Mayer, your ability to complete such a large transaction in five days proves both your capabilities and your integrity. I think we can be friends."

Mayer paused for a moment.

He had seen far too many Chinese people. There were shrewd and calculating businessmen, arrogant officials, gentry who spouted benevolence and morality, and nouveau riche who would turn weak at the sight of foreigners.

But Zhou Zeyuan is different.

If they are unmoved by the sight of gold, then so be it!

He always felt that the person in front of him had a condescending sense of superiority when they met him.

This isn't the psychological advantage that major clients have over businesspeople, but rather a deep-seated pride and confidence.

Just like the ordinary people in East London, who can still hold their heads high with pride when they see this Danish-American tycoon.

But these are all minor details. The customers who can bring him big business are God!

Mayer shook Zhou Zeyuan's hand, his smile becoming more genuine: "Zhou, you have money, I have connections. Our cooperation is absolutely a match made in heaven!"

Zhou Zeyuan burst into laughter. "You used that idiom incorrectly. It's used to describe relationships between men and women. But... the meaning is roughly the same."

Mayer was a little embarrassed by his laughter and shrugged helplessly.

Zhou Zeyuan gestured for him to sit down and had a bowl of tea poured for him. "By the way, you told me before that besides equipment, you could also procure weaponry. I'd like to ask, what types of guns can you get your hands on?"

Mayer's eyes lit up. This was what he really wanted to talk about.

Shenchang Trading Company doesn't deal in arms, but it has the channels! There's no such thing as the satisfaction of running your own business compared to running a company's business.

"As long as you can afford it, I can get you even the latest weapons from various countries. But they certainly won't be cheap. I think what you need is... something more affordable?"

Zhou Zeyuan nodded: "That's right, I actually prefer the standard weapons from various countries that were in service during World War I. For example, the Mauser G98, Germany produced millions of them, so the price shouldn't be too high. Large quantities are plentiful, which is what I need most right now."

A subtle expression appeared on Mayer's face, as if he was carefully choosing his words.

"Of course we can get our hands on Mauser G98s. HSBC has quite a few in their warehouses, but each time they change hands, it adds to the cost."

He leaned forward and lowered his voice, "I have cheaper American guns here, I wonder if you'd be interested?"

Zhou Zeyuan raised an eyebrow: "American weapons? They don't seem very cheap."

"Enfield M1917." Mayer held up two fingers. "One costs only twenty dollars, and comes with two hundred rounds of ammunition."

There was a moment of silence in the tent.

Zhou Zeyuan did not answer immediately, but picked up the enamel mug on the table and slowly took a sip of water.

He had certainly heard of the Enfield M1917 rifle.

During World War I, in order to quickly arm the expeditionary force, the United States improved upon the Enfield P14 rifle, changing the caliber to the American standard.

The three factories across the United States produced more than two million of these weapons, equipping about three-quarters of the U.S. Expeditionary Force soldiers.

As for performance, it's not outstanding, but it doesn't have any major flaws either.

The accuracy is good, the structure is reliable, and apart from being a little heavy and having a strong recoil, there are no major problems.

For the Red Army, anything that could draw out the pus was a good remedy; they had no right to be picky.

However, there are some troubles as well. The most serious problem is the incompatibility between American and German ammunition, which will likely cause a lot of headaches in terms of logistics.

Zhou Zeyuan considered for a moment, then asked, "Is this the CIF price? Who pays for the freight?"

Mayer's lips curled into a slight smile: "If you buy a lot, I can waive the shipping fee for you."

Zhou Zeyuan nodded knowingly: "I knew it, there's no such thing as a free lunch. What's your standard for 'a lot'?"

"At least ten thousand. That also includes supplies like helmets, boots, and water bottles. With your financial resources, you should be able to easily afford that."

Zhou Zeyuan didn't reply. He was already inclined to buy it, but he couldn't agree to it so readily.

As for haggling, there's no need for that.

He planned to incentivize the young man with enough profit to ignite his greed, motivate him to expend more effort and take greater risks to help him acquire the urgently needed military supplies.

After a while, under Mayier's anxious gaze, Zhou Zeyuan spoke:

"Mayl, don't tell me this is your first arms deal and you're not planning to make money."

World War I surplus materials are certainly cheap on the international arms market. But smuggling is expensive because it requires breaking through blockades, which is risky. Who would do something without profit?

Zhou Zeyuan leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp as a knife: "Is there something wrong with this batch of goods?"

Mayer's expression stiffened, but he secretly breathed a sigh of relief: "There's absolutely no problem with the quality. I guarantee the damage rate won't exceed one percent."

"However, I have a friend in the US who works in the beverage industry, and he's recently been targeted and needs a large sum of money to keep things running."

Zhou Zeyuan's eyes held a deeper meaning as he asked casually, "Oh! A friend in the beverage industry? Is he in Chicago?"

"Huh? How did you know?" The words slipped out, and Mayer's mind was racing.

He realized that the young corps commander in front of him probably knew the United States quite well and was definitely not the kind of country bumpkin who had never been abroad!

As expected, Zhou Zeyuan's next words dealt him an even more devastating blow.