The ten-year-old Nangong Wentian stared at the screen of the "Star Core," his fingers hovering over the keyboard for a long time.
On the screen was a rudimentary webpage—the Orb Small and Medium Enterprise Information Exchange Platform. He had been lurking on this platform for half a month, observing every potential buyer, analyzing their needs, capabilities, and credibility.
Now, he had locked onto a target.
Kinoshita Machining Factory. A small factory located on the outskirts of Orleans, specializing in precision machining, with over twenty employees. The factory owner, Kenichi Kinoshita, was forty-five years old, with twenty-three years of experience in the industry. He was highly skilled and had a good reputation. Recently, he had posted a purchase inquiry on the platform: seeking high-performance aluminum alloy materials to improve product performance.
This was screened out for him by Yamada.
Three days ago, Nangong Wentian had gone to the scrapyard and given that test report to Yamada. After reading it, Yamada was silent for a long time before saying, "Kid, I'll help you find a buyer for this. But there's one condition—you can't show your face, and no one can know it was you who made it."
Nangong Wentian nodded. "I know."
"You have a way?"
"Yes."
Yamada didn't press further, only saying, "Alright. Wait for my news."
Two days later, Yamada sent him a website and a message: "This platform, Kinoshita Machining Factory, owner Kenichi Kinoshita. He's been looking for materials recently, has good credibility, and keeps his mouth shut. You can give it a try."
Now, Nangong Wentian was looking at the detailed information about Kinoshita's factory.
The factory wasn't large, but it was well-equipped, with several high-precision machine tools capable of complex machining. Kenichi Kinoshita's personal record was clean—over twenty years in the industry without a single dispute. His factory mainly supplied parts to several large manufacturers. Recently, these manufacturers had demanded improved product performance, so he needed better materials.
"Wentian," Xiao Guang crouched beside him and asked quietly, "Have you thought it through?"
Nangong Wentian turned to look at him. The fifteen-year-old Xiao Guang had grown a bit taller, and the childishness on his face had faded somewhat, but his eyes were still as clear as ever.
"I've thought it through," he said.
"But..." Xiao Guang scratched his head. "What if we get scammed?"
Nangong Wentian fell silent for a moment. Xiao Guang's concern wasn't unfounded. A ten-year-old child conducting a transaction with a stranger over the internet carried too much risk.
But he had the "Star Core." He had encrypted communications, anonymous accounts, voice changers, and remote control capabilities. As long as he was careful, he shouldn't be exposed.
Moreover, he had to take this step.
Without money, he could do nothing.
"I have a way," he said.
Xiao Guang looked at him and didn't ask further. Over the years, he had learned to trust Wentian. Whenever Wentian said "I have a way," he truly had a way.
Nangong Wentian began to operate.
Step one: register an anonymous email account. He used an overseas server, routed through multiple proxies, making it difficult to trace.
Step two: send an email to Kinoshita's factory. The content was simple:
"We have reviewed your factory's inquiry for high-performance aluminum alloy materials. We have products that meet your requirements, with a summary of the test report attached. If interested, we can proceed with further communication."
Attached was a simplified version of the test report—containing only tensile strength, yield strength, and main components, with detailed testing methods and trace element data omitted.
Send.
Then came the waiting.
Xiao Guang stared at the screen beside him, not daring to breathe. After a long while, he whispered, "When will he reply?"
Nangong Wentian shook his head. "I don't know. It could be soon, or he might never reply."
Xiao Guang pouted. "So we just wait like this?"
Nangong Wentian thought for a moment and said, "Keep an eye on it for me. Call me if there's any news. I'm going to train in the backyard for a while."
Xiao Guang was taken aback. "Train what?"
Nangong Wentian didn't answer and walked out of the back kitchen.
In the yard, the sunlight was just right. He stretched his limbs and began doing push-ups.
Since receiving his first sum of money last year—though not much—he had started creating a training plan for himself. The body of a Natural was too weak; it had to be strengthened. The road ahead was long, and without a strong physique, nothing could be accomplished.
Thirty push-ups, fifty squats, followed by stretching and flexibility exercises. Sweat quickly soaked through his clothes, but he gritted his teeth and persisted.
An hour later, he returned to the back kitchen.
Xiao Guang was still crouched in front of the screen, motionless. Seeing him enter, Xiao Guang shook his head. "No reply yet."
Nangong Wentian nodded and sat down to continue waiting.
By evening, there was still no reply.
Xiao Guang grew somewhat discouraged. "Wentian, do you think he won't reply?"
Nangong Wentian thought for a moment and said, "We'll send another email tomorrow."
The next day, he sent a second email. This time, he included more data—hardness, elongation, and fatigue performance.
On the third day, there was still no reply.
The fourth day, the fifth day, the sixth day…
Xiao Guang went from hopeful to anxious, and finally to numb. His first words every day when he entered the back kitchen were, "Wentian, any reply?"
Each time, Nangong Wentian shook his head.
On the seventh day, he finally received a reply.
It was just one short line: "I've reviewed the data and am very interested. Can we meet to discuss in detail?"
Nangong Wentian stared at the words, his heart beating a little faster.
He took a deep breath and began to reply: "We are a technical R&D team and cannot disclose our identities. All communication can be conducted online. If you are sincere, we can start with a small batch of samples."
Send.
This time, the reply came quickly.
"Agreed. What are the costs?"
Nangong Wentian thought for a moment and typed: "The first batch of samples is free. If satisfied, subsequent orders will be at standard prices."
This was his strategy. Let the other party try the product for free first, verify its performance, and build trust. Once they couldn't do without the material, then they could discuss pricing.
The other party remained silent for a long time before replying: "I'll send you the address. Mail the samples over."
Nangong Wentian froze.
Samples. He only had one piece of "Stellar Core One"—the result of three months of hard work. He couldn't send it away.
He needed to make a new batch.
"Xiao Guang," he stood up, "let's get to work."
For the next three days, the two of them began a new round of smelting. This time, it went much more smoothly—the formula was mature, the process was familiar, and the raw materials were ready.
Three days later, five palm-sized alloy samples were produced.
Nangong Wentian selected the most perfect piece, carefully sanded it with sandpaper to remove the surface oxidation layer, revealing a silvery metallic sheen. He then wrapped it in an old cloth and placed it in a small wooden box.
The box was crudely nailed together by Xiao Guang from scrap wood, but it was sturdy.
"Send it out?" Xiao Guang asked.
"Send it out," Nangong Wentian nodded. "But not from here."
He thought for a moment and found a cross-city courier service online. Paying double the usual fee, he had the courier pick up the package from the village, listing a public mailbox in Orleans as the return address.
Three days later, Kinoshita received the sample.
Another three days passed before Kinoshita replied: "Tested. Performance exceeds what you reported. How much do you have?"
Nangong Wentian stared at the words, his hand trembling slightly.
"How much do you need?" he countered.
"Fifty kilograms per month. Price?"
Nangong Wentian fell silent for a long time.
Fifty kilograms. With his current production capacity, it was impossible. The backyard Smelting Furnace could only produce a few kilograms at a time, requiring repeated melting, testing, and adjustments. Fifty kilograms would take him a year.
But he couldn't say no.
"Can supply. Price at 1.5 times market rate," he typed.
The market price was 2,000 Orb per kilogram. 1.5 times meant 3,000. Fifty kilograms would total 150,000. Fifteen thousand a month, 180,000 a year.
The reply came quickly: "Too high. 1.2 times."
"1.4."
"1.3, no more."
Nangong Wentian thought for a moment and typed: "Deal. But half payment upfront."
The other side remained silent for a long time before replying: "Agreed. Send me the account."
Nangong Wentian stared at the words, his heart pounding like a drum.
Half upfront. Fifty kilograms at 1.3 times, 2,600 per kilogram, total 130,000. Half upfront meant 65,000.
Sixty-five thousand.
He had never seen so much money in his life.
He sent over an overseas anonymous account he had opened last year under a fake identity, prepared specifically for this transaction.
Another three days passed.
During those three days, he checked the account balance several times a day, but it always showed zero. Xiao Guang was even more anxious, asking eight times a day: "Has it arrived? Has it arrived?"
On the third night, the account balance finally changed.
65,000 Orb.
Nangong Wentian stared at the number, his eyes stinging.
Xiao Guang watched from beside him and whispered, "Wentian, is this... our money?"
"Yes."
"Sixty-five thousand?"
"Yes."
Xiao Guang's mouth hung open, speechless for a long moment. Then he suddenly jumped up, cheering in a hushed voice: "Sixty-five thousand! We're rich! Rich!"
Nangong Wentian didn't cheer. He stared at the number, countless images flashing through his mind.
Sixty-five thousand was just the beginning.
Next would be the remaining payment. Next would be more orders. Next would be more money.
With money, they could buy better equipment. With better equipment, they could produce more and better materials. With more and better materials, they could earn even more money.
Then, they could do what they truly wanted.
"Wentian," Xiao Guang suddenly stopped and looked at him. "Why aren't you happy?"
Nangong Wentian snapped out of his thoughts and shook his head. "I am."
"Then why aren't you smiling?"
Nangong Wentian paused, then slowly raised the corners of his mouth.
He smiled.
Though his eyes were slightly damp, he smiled.
"Xiao Guang," he said, "this is just the beginning."
Xiao Guang grinned: "I know! There's more to come!"
Outside the window, moonlight streamed into the back kitchen, falling on that piece of silvery-white metal, on that worn-out "Star Core," and on the faces of those two children.
After ten years of lying low, they had finally made their first gain.
From today onward, he possessed the power to change his fate.