I got drunk last night, so this chapter is to make up for yesterday. Therefore, there will be two more updates today.

The terms shàn nán xìn nǚ (), which originally referred to men and women who converted to Buddhism, later came to mean devout male and female Buddhists, and now broadly encompasses people who are kind-hearted and innocent.

Wang Zhuo never considered himself a devout Buddhist; in fact, from the perspective of reincarnation, he had performed more good deeds than many sanctimonious people combined over ten lifetimes.

In this era, hating evil as if it were a personal enemy equates to simplemindedness, and acting courageously for a just cause is idiocy. The fact that he still used his modest influence to give back to society already marked him as one of the truly good people.

Even great men make mistakes, and Wang Zhuo was no exception; moreover, he shared one trait with the greatest leaders: an unwillingness to admit his errors after making them.

China had endured a tumultuous Cultural Revolution that lasted a decade, full of fervor and upheaval. In his later years, Stalin became erratic, unable to distinguish friend from foe. Similar examples abound throughout history.

But the mistake Wang Zhuo made was far less severe than theirs. Of course, Wang Zhuo’s current "stature" wasn't that of a great man yet—he was nowhere near that level. His error was simply an inability to control his own desires, always finding various justifications before contentedly straying.

Simultaneously, he assiduously worked on "indoctrinating" his women, making them believe his actions were ordained by Heaven, a mission, a destiny that was immutable—though he himself never truly wanted it that way...

"When men get rich, they turn bad; when women turn bad, they get rich"—this saying is old and worn, but Wang Zhuo refused to admit he became corrupt after acquiring wealth. He would only concede that after gaining fortune, he lived more freely and authentically. Wealth certainly granted him a greater degree of liberty, but it also unleashed his desires. And who could argue that this wasn't the real him? Was living his whole life as a pauper, unable to afford a wife or raise children, the path he was truly meant to tread?

The lights in the room were dim and soft, the heavy curtains blocking the outside world, making the space secretive and intimate.

Wang Zhuo found Yang Ru’s name terribly uncreative—look at Qi Fei’s name, Bǐ Yì Qí Fēi (Flying Wing to Wing), or Qu Jingyou’s name, Qū Jìng Yōu (Winding Path to Secluded Beauty). Then there was Ruan Mingqing, named after the Yuan, Ming, and Qing dynasties. Yang Jian, Yang Ru, and Yang Feng’s names, compared to those, were utter trash—the dregs of trash!

However, looking beautiful is less important than living beautifully, and having a brilliant name is far less important than being a stunning person. What Yang Ru was named was irrelevant; her face, coupled with that seductive figure, instantly justified the entire price of admission.

After a round of intense passion, resting for only ten minutes, Wang Zhuo patted Yang Ru's tender bottom and assigned her a task.

Since shifting his focus toward his career, Wang Zhuo rarely indulged in "second helpings" like this. The fact that Yang Ru enjoyed this attention was twofold: first, because Wang Zhuo was about to go to Britain for an "inspection" and wouldn't have a female companion, meaning a brief period of abstinence might be necessary, so he needed to release some energy first; second, because he likely wouldn't see this woman often again, and this current coupling might well be their final farewell.

The tip of the "snake spirit's" tongue was fine and pointed, darting and gliding through the valleys and contours of his body. Wang Zhuo leaned back against the headboard, his bare back muscles against the slightly cool wood, feeling the faint pleasure Yang Ru brought him—tingling, numbing, itchy—a feeling that could not be summed up by the single word "excellent."

He sat spread-legged in the center of the bed, Yang Ru kneeling between his thighs, her uniquely charming face buried in the thicket of hair, her narrow, bright phoenix eyes occasionally meeting his, her gaze drifting hazily.

Presently, Wang Zhuo would lift a foot and use the soft callus on his heel to brush against her high, rounded hips. From his angle, they appeared exactly like a pair of luscious white peaches. A playful tap with the sole of his foot would send ripples dancing across them.

This was the irony of fate. When he was beating Yang Feng, or nearly ambushed by Liu Jieming, did Wang Zhuo ever imagine a day would come when Yang Feng's beautiful sister, Liu Jieming's sexy wife, would prostrate herself before him, catering to his every whim to wash away the sins they and she had committed?

Wang Zhuo felt like a warrior, but his battle cry wasn't "In the name of the Moon, I will punish you," but rather, "Executing Heaven’s Will." He was an arbiter, a spokesperson for underground justice, now solemnly and sanctimoniously declaring with his actions to Yang Ru: Given your excellent performance, brother forgives you!

...

One can see from the world map that Britain is an island nation separated from the continental plate. It was precisely because of this geographical positioning that this seemingly insignificant island developed into what was once the world's most powerful empire. Conversely, it is also due to this geography that "Old Britain" gradually lost its dominant position, eventually being surpassed by the United States.

During the Age of Discovery, this nation thrived with ease, as did the contemporaneous rising powers of Spain, Portugal, and Japan. But in the modern era, these nations, lacking vast landmasses, found their development constrained. Thus, the torch passed: first to the US and the USSR, and now even its little brother, China, was catching up.

There can be no "Empire where the sun never sets" in this world; no regime can exist forever. History has repeatedly written the stories of collapsing dynasties, regardless of how well the rulers praised their own longevity, none can escape this fate.

Britain was like this: beneath its surface prosperity, various endemic flaws severely constrained the nation's progress and development—a condition known as being too entrenched to reform. Wang Zhuo's current trip to Britain was closely connected to this political and economic stagnation.

Otherwise, what nation would casually put a decommissioned aircraft carrier up for sale?

The dissolution of the Soviet Union in the 1990s brought profound political and economic turmoil that resonated globally. At that time, there were precedents of Chinese entrepreneurs trading civilian goods for controlled military equipment like aircraft and artillery.

Eventually, even a third-generation aircraft carrier under construction by the former Soviet Union was sold to China—the Varyag. This showed that when the foundation crumbles, the only limit is what one can imagine doing.

However, the British Empire refused to admit it was in a state of "collapse." Amidst national criticism and doubt, the British Ministry of Defence nonetheless confidently displayed the Illustrious on a prominent spot on its website for sale, calmly explaining that to alleviate the nation's defense crisis, they would sell not just a retired carrier, but even an active one if circumstances demanded it!

In plain terms, it all came down to money. The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland was short on cash!

But Wang Zhuo was not short on cash, which is why he came, bringing with him an inspection team composed of four amateur military enthusiasts. The party of five departed from Beijing and, after a flight spanning twenty hours, landed at Heathrow Airport in London, the British capital.

Anyone who has seen Star Wars likely remembers a scene where the human protagonists appear in a plaza surrounded by various types of strangely shaped aliens bustling all around. When Wang Zhuo and his four companions set foot on London soil, they were surrounded by people of every skin color, build, age, and language—even more diverse than those they encountered boarding the plane at Beijing Capital Airport.

Wang Zhuo couldn't help but feel a sense of awe, realizing that in terms of internationalization, Beijing was still light-years behind London.

Among the five, Wang Zhuo’s English proficiency was mediocre, limited to conversations with other Chinese people. If he tried to speak with a real "foreigner," they would likely end up staring blankly at each other, unable to discern which regional dialect of English the other was speaking.

As for accents—be they Received Pronunciation or American—for Wang Zhuo, a speaker with a distinct "local flavor," these were entirely irrelevant.

You don't know until you go abroad: English proficiency tests like CET-4 and CET-6 are utterly useless!

After cursing the incompetent government parasites and the corrupt scoundrels who used power to amass wealth, Wang Zhuo and his group each pulled out small notebooks. When communicating with others, they would feign muteness and use these to write things down!

After laboriously explaining something to an Indian man asking for directions, the bespectacled Li Mingxu gave Wang Zhuo a wry smile: "You really should have brought a translator."

Wang Zhuo smiled faintly and shook his head: "The language environment is the best shortcut for learning a foreign language. I'm hoping to improve my conversational skills over these few days. Bringing a translator would mean sabotaging my own shortcut!"

"Then why are we carrying these things?" Little Fatty Zhao Yu cheerfully waved the notebook in his hand.

Wang Zhuo scratched his head and laughed: "Just for temporary backup."

Accompanying Wang Zhuo were Li Mingxu, Zhao Yu, Kang Yangqiu, and Zhou Jiyuan. Li Mingxu was a gentle, scholarly man with glasses, working as a Chinese language lecturer at a university, who had previously visited several cruise ships converted from retired domestic aircraft carriers. Zhao Yu was a sophomore in college and an ardent military fanatic who could list every active and decommissioned aircraft carrier globally. Kang Yangqiu, in his thirties, was a ship repairman with extensive modification experience. Zhou Jiyuan was a retired Navy man who had served on a destroyer, though he had privately confessed to Wang Zhuo that he was discharged because he had gotten a certain leader’s daughter pregnant.

This civilian team wasn't exactly professional, but their scope of knowledge was reasonably broad. Furthermore, Wang Zhuo had no intention of getting involved with "professional" entities. It was just a retired carrier; anything worth stripping would already be gone. He assumed the domestic military wouldn't be very interested; if they wanted a look, they could wait until after the purchase, but within Wang Zhuo's small team? Sorry, no tours allowed.

In fact, the British were seasoned veterans. Although they were currently short on funds, selling retired carriers for scrap prices globally, the viewing location for the ship was arranged far out at sea, with no connection to military bases or anything similar—completely denying guests any opportunity for espionage.

In front of the international arrivals exit at the airport stood a crowd of greeters, holding up various signs of different shapes and sizes. Wang Zhuo and his four companions scanned them one by one. The texts on the signs were varied as well, in at least ten different languages. It was impossible to tell whether the signs were written in English or Chinese.

"Found it!" The sharp-eyed Zhao Yu suddenly shouted with excitement, pointing to one of the placards. RO