He needed a boat—a small yacht. This wasn’t a difficult problem to solve. First of all, he had plenty of materials on hand, especially a large batch of titanium alloy. He could weld the hull with that. As for the power system, he’d have to dismantle a Type 59 tank for now. Although the Tiger tank’s engine and gearbox would be more suitable, unfortunately, those ran on gasoline, and he didn’t have any gasoline on his boat—though he did have plenty of gasoline additives. Diesel, on the other hand, was easy to come by; the tanks and infantry fighting vehicles all had full fuel tanks.

He didn’t even need to build it himself; Portrait of a Lady could easily handle such a small task. Several mechanical arms extended at once, first using alloy steel to make the keel, then, just like folding paper, quickly fashioned all the yacht’s components out of titanium alloy armor plates. Next, a probe extended, generating ultra-high temperatures with an electric current to fuse the parts together, just like bonding plastic products. Then, a coat of black submarine paint was sprayed on the outside. In no time, a twenty-meter-long yacht appeared on the deck.

Then, the two tanks were dismantled, and both power systems were installed side by side on the aft deck. Since making an underwater propeller was too troublesome, he simply made paddle wheels instead. And so, a rather odd-looking, retro-style yacht was freshly completed.

He had a boat now, but there was still another problem to solve: what about the shuttle? Where should it be hidden, and how could he keep track of its location?

“If we get separated, can you find me on your own?” Franklin Young asked Portrait of a Lady.

“I can sense your call within a hundred kilometers.”

“That makes it simple. You submerge and follow me underwater. Once we reach the waters off the coast of Britain, find a deep spot and sink down. Then you don’t need to worry about me. When I need you, I’ll call you out,” Franklin Young said, finally feeling completely at ease.

With all problems solved, Boss Young, carrying ten Seagull watches and a box of penicillin injections, officially set out on his journey to wreak havoc on the world. The combined power of the two Type 59 engines exceeded a thousand horsepower, driving a twenty-meter titanium-alloy boat. The power was more than sufficient—even with the outdated paddle wheels, the yacht sped across the sea like a black orca.

Boss Young was in a good mood. Although eating too many chips inevitably made him a bit nauseous, the thought of a whole new world waiting to be conquered filled him with the same excitement Columbus must have felt sailing to the New World.

In fact, he didn’t even know where he was headed. Since that officer said this was the Atlantic, it was unlikely he’d lie about that. Judging by the displacement of their warship and the local climate, it was most likely the North Atlantic, off the southern coast of Britain. So it was just a matter of heading east or west, and he chose east.

To the west was America, which was in chaos at this time and extremely unfriendly to Chinese people. Besides, they didn’t actually have much money now; the real wealth was in the Old World. There was no need to wonder who had more money—a bunch of old thieves who’d been looting for centuries, or a new petty thief who’d just started.

But after sailing for a whole day without seeing a single soul, he started to feel uneasy. After all, his speed was no less than twenty knots, so he’d covered several hundred kilometers in a day. Although he lacked nothing and the shuttle was right below in the water, living off snacks every day was pure torture for the pampered Boss Young.

Just as he was about to have Portrait of a Lady catch him a couple of fish to satisfy his craving, he finally spotted a plume of smoke on the horizon. Instantly energized, he sped the little yacht toward it.

Soon, a warship flying the French flag appeared in the distance. It looked just as battered as the one he’d sunk, but it had only one smokestack and a single mast, towering above the deck and making it look top-heavy. Franklin Young actually recognized this warship—it resembled the Pingyuan, which was sunk during the First Sino-Japanese War. In other words, this was a prototype of the Pingyuan-class Huangquan coastal defense ironclad.

Boss Young waved his arms excitedly like a courtesan spotting a patron, then shouted loudly in French. After years of wandering the world, he spoke all sorts of languages fluently—English, French, German, Russian, even Japanese was no problem.

The sudden appearance of this little yacht also surprised the French warship, which immediately changed course to meet him. When the French sailors saw Franklin Young, they couldn’t help but cry out in astonishment.

Indeed, an Oriental man piloting a private yacht was absolutely unheard of in this era—especially one dressed in strange black clothes and wearing an equally odd black hat. In fact, Franklin Young was wearing a set of dragon scale armor. He had no idea how the French would greet him, so it was better to be cautious. Even the underwater shuttle was ready with torpedoes.

Chapter 3: A Complete Transformation

Four days later in Paris, France, a Chinese tycoon traveling the world in a private yacht appeared in the entertainment sections of several newspapers. This young, handsome Oriental man—without a queue—owned a yacht powered by a diesel engine of his own invention, and he also brought with him a miraculous medicine.