Kantao still placed great importance on the lost goods in Atlanta, which meant that Military Science probably valued them just as much.

In fact, Lille’s initial plan was to hand over Yinglong and the Eight-Star Gun, along with their designs, to Kantao—but now it seemed better to be cautious.

He needed to find someone to send the items to Dog Town to sell, or just dispose of them. Either way, he couldn’t keep them.

And he’d have to sell them in parts.

With that in mind, Lille made a call to Roshan. The other party answered quickly.

Roshan, "I was just about to call you. The five cans of slow-releasing agents are sold out, along with the vaccines.

As you mentioned, I priced them slightly cheaper than the Six Street Gang, 60,000 per can for the slow-releasing agents and 70,000 per shot for the vaccines. The Wanderers gathered the money quickly.

For this deal, I’ll just take the agreed 30 percent cut, but next time, buyers will have to either find someone from the city or smuggle them out, and I’ll need to take at least a 60 percent cut."

Lille, "What’s the name of Adkaduo’s buyer?"

Roshan, "It was handled by an intermediary, Dakota Smith. She also asked for your number, she might call you in a while."

Lille, "Perfect, I just got a batch of goods. Ask Adkaduo if they happen to be heading to Mexico and can sell the items there."

Roshan, "What goods?"

Lille, "Smart weapons, four in total. Two Dian Type Submachine Guns, two Zhuo’s shotguns, all original prototype weapons modified by Kantao."

Roshan, "That’s good stuff, why not sell it in Night City?"

Lille, "The goods are too hot."

Roshan, "Got it, but this is a big deal. I’m not taking it; you’ll have to talk to her yourself. I’ll give her a heads-up."

Lille, "Sure, I’ll give her a call when I’m free."

Transfer: +700,000 euros.

At the Wild Wolf Bar, having settled the deal with Kantao, the four of them returned to the bar to drink.

The four of them clinked glasses.

"Big money!"

After clinking glasses, three of them gulped down beer, while only Lille drank soda.

V threw an arm around Lille, "Haha—drinking soda in a bar, only a weirdo like you would do that."

Lille had no expression, "The money came through; the last batch of goods was dealt with, sold for a million. Roshan took 300,000, leaving us with 700,000.

We take out 70,000 to repay Old V, the remaining 630,000 means 210,000 each."

"Wuhu!"

The three of them toasted again, the enormous sum making even Cheson envy.

He sourly remarked, "These days, selling drugs is still the way to make money."

Lille commented, "Come on now, the arms business is a long-term one too. The path is paved for you; you just have to walk it."

Cheson nodded, though he seemed a bit disinterested—he couldn’t help it, hearing about such a large amount going into Lille’s account made him want to become a mercenary himself.

Kantao planned on giving Cheson a set of work chips.

As a legitimate subcontractor, the chips recorded work status when inserted into the worker’s chip slot, thus preventing Cheson from "evading taxes."

The advantage was that the legitimate chips were highly efficient, able to pair with automated equipment, upgrading a manual black workshop to a semi-automated gray workshop.

Smart ammunition was far more complex than ordinary ammunition; besides the traditional bullet, casing, and gunpowder, it also included a trajectory correction system for altering its path mid-air.

This was high-tech stuff; the bullets came with micro signal receivers and sensors for exchanging information with the external world, making them far more expensive than regular bullets, something the average person wouldn’t make.

With the legitimate work chips, Cheson estimated his modest workshop’s annual production could range between 150,000 to 500,000 rounds.

Smart bullets for handguns and submachine guns sold for six euros each, while smart shotgun bullets sold for thirty euros each.

Being a proprietary technology, the profit margins for smart bullets were substantial compared to their high costs, particularly for the smart shotgun bullets.

Annual revenue was roughly estimated at around four million euros, netting about 120,000 euros monthly after costs. After taking out the two percent for Lille and his crew, it would leave around 100,000 euros in net profit.

Is 120,000 a lot?

Honestly, that’s not a small number, but it’s not as high as it seems.

That’s why Kantao agreed to let Cheson handle the subcontracting—smart ammunition was indeed good and somewhat monopolized.

But the ammunition business belonged to the lower end of the arms trade, so someone like Cheson, stuck in the middle, wouldn’t see high profit margins.

Of course, operational adjustments might allow for some price increase, but not by much.

Is 100,000 a lot? Honestly, it’s not a small figure, but... comparing people can be deadly!

Never mind Lille and his kind; once they pull off a heist, it’s almost zero-cost. Those expensive drugs sold by biotechnology firms were also ridiculously pricey.

However, for Jack and V, getting thousands of euros each month for doing nothing was something they never dared to dream of before.

It could be said Lille broadened their horizons and whetted their appetites, with Cheson also influenced.

Jack immediately transferred 100,000 euros to V upon receiving the money.

"Sis, I’ve paid you back, feels awesome; it’s the first time I’ve had this much money on hand."

Receiving the money, V immediately looked at Lille.

Lille shot Jack a helpless look—dumbass, who pays back loans this eagerly?! 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

Lille had to obediently transfer the money to V, keeping only 10,000 euros for himself.

With the money in hand, V’s eyes lit up—this took her savings to 860,000, nearing a million euros!

But she still wasn’t satisfied, slamming her glass on the table discontentedly.

"Why did Roshan take 30 percent right away? I don’t accept it!"

"Sis, think a bit. That batch was stolen goods; it would’ve been kind of her not to take five, six, seven, or eight percent!"

Dealing with stolen goods, especially drugs, was far more complicated than V imagined.

If it were just stolen guns, it wouldn’t be that bad. Given Night City’s gun chaos, except for regulated weapons like the raccoon dog, you only had to worry about the gun’s original owner coming after you.

But drugs were a different story; biotechnology firms’ agents kept a close eye on this stuff. They allocated a significant chunk of their annual profits to Night City’s drug regulatory bodies and other government departments.

It meant that as long as you sold goods in Night City, you couldn’t escape this oversight. If pushed, the cyber surveillance could get involved, making things even more troublesome.

Selling to the Wanderers didn’t have middlemen, but doing so in Night City complicated matters greatly.

Regardless, dealing with the first batch was immensely satisfying, instantly turning them into rich folks.

Of course, only Lille was still in debt, owing V 60,000.

Watching V guzzle her drink, Lille suddenly had a terrifying thought—would he always owe V money in the future?

"Whatever—" V poured herself another drink, "Let’s have fun first—Tonight’s tab is on me at the bar! Order whatever you like!"

"Hey, hey, hey! V! You stole what I wanted to do..."

Jack hurried to stop V, but his voice was drowned out by the cheers—

The Wild Wolf Bar’s atmosphere peaked, with a rowdy Valentino kid with spiky hair jumping onto the counter, shouting loudly.

Mrs. Wales smiled at V and beckoned Jack over.

Mother and son knew today was going to be a big payday, so they headed to the warehouse to get more booze.

Actually—though the bar was already packed, the news of someone buying would definitely spread throughout Haywood, drawing every available guy to come leech some drinks.

By then... it would get truly lively.

Lille smiled at the reveling youngsters, carrying a bottle of soda in one hand and a plate of synthetic steamed meat in the other, heading out of the bar.

He ran into the busy Mrs. Wales.

"Lille, are you leaving? Not having a drink with them?"

"Ah, health issues, can’t drink." Lille shrugged, "Mrs. Wales, please look after V, don’t let her drink herself to death; we still have to go to the Afterlife Club tomorrow."

"Afterlife?" Mrs. Wales seemed skeptical, "Jack didn’t mention this; he only said they were going to unwind tomorrow."

Lille froze—Oh no.

He screwed over his brother.

Mrs. Wales sighed seeing Lille’s reaction, "Lille, you and Jack are different. I trust you can understand me.

Jack always wanted to join gangs since childhood, even ran into trouble a few times, but now his work is getting increasingly dangerous.

I just... don’t want him to end up like his father."

Lille was silent for a moment, then said, "Mrs. Wales, you should also understand, Jack is born for this—or rather, he won’t understand what you’re saying until he genuinely believes he’s the boss."

"Or maybe he’ll only understand after he’s dead." Mrs. Wales cursed in Spanish under her breath.

Then she resignedly said, "But maybe that’s just the men of the Wales family—with you around, maybe Jack really will become a big shot."

Lille smiled but remembered the old days.

In his past life, he had seen too many parents coming to him for a promise—a promise that their children would return, succeed, or die gloriously.

But how could those things be promised? In the end, it was just mechanically searching the mind for words to respond with.

Mrs. Wales was a wise woman—she knew such things couldn’t be promised.

"I thought you’d make him reflect in the garage."

Mrs. Wales smiled, "He listened to me once and quit Valentino. That was his lowest point.

But I have vision—I knew it was the right choice; otherwise, he wouldn’t have met you guys now.

I’ll keep an eye on them, though V will surely shout your name to drink with her soon."

"Ignore her; she’ll quiet down after a bit."

Saying that, Lille headed for the subway—even though it was late, he still had to visit Old V’s clinic.

No choice, the final exam was tomorrow; he needed to buy supplies.