Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Swagger of Black Gold Oil

Compared to Nanshan International Airport, Stuttgart Airport is not particularly large. Even so, Zhang Aimin and his group of four wandered about in confusion; they couldn’t understand a word of the signs, and it took them half an hour just to find the exit for checked baggage.

But where was their luggage?

The four of them were dumbfounded. All the other passengers had already claimed their bags and left, the conveyor belt was empty, and even the security staff were stretching and preparing to take a break before the next flight arrived.

“Oh no! I even brought my own set of sheets and duvet cover!” Wang Yining always brought her own bedding whenever she stayed at a hotel—her little quirk of cleanliness.

“Excuse me, are you Mr. Zhang from the Stellar Racing Team?” Thank heavens, they finally heard Mandarin.

The speaker was a young Chinese man. Zhang Aimin scrutinized him for a while before slapping his forehead in regret. “See how useless I’ve become in my old age—didn’t they say someone would be here to pick us up?”

The young man chuckled and quickly shook Zhang Aimin’s hand.

“Uncle Zhang, don’t you recognize me?” he said suddenly. Zhang Aimin was momentarily at a loss.

Mo Shu leaned in and examined the young man for a long moment before exclaiming loudly, “Li Xun?”

“Hehe, it’s been a long time, Brother Mo.” Li Xun smiled, a bit embarrassed.

Zhang Aimin slapped his forehead again, reproaching himself. “Right, right, you’re Old Li’s son. I’d heard you’d gone to Germany to study race car driving, but I’d forgotten again. You’re here to pick us up, aren’t you?”

Li Xun nodded quickly and raised his hand to guide the four back the way they had come.

“Uncle Zhang, I had the luggage unloaded directly from the flight. Sorry to have made you worry. Let’s get ready to head out now, shall we?” Li Xun had changed quite a bit—he was polite, well-dressed, though his blonde hair remained unchanged.

“Alright, alright, please, thank you, thank you!” Zhang Aimin waved grandly, and the five of them retraced their steps.

Mo Shu was puzzled. What was this about? Were they going back to Nanshan? Was this some sort of game?

Not at all. When the group reached the stairway at the exit, Li Xun gestured to the left, revealing a coded iron door.

Once through the door, the view opened up. A large passenger jet was roaring skyward, engines at full throttle.

Mo Shu was still confused. Why were they back at an airport runway? Did they need to race straight-line acceleration as soon as they landed?

After rounding a small bend, all but Zhang Aimin and Li Xun exchanged a smile, quietly impressed.

“This is extravagant, isn’t it?”

The vehicle before them gleamed with a lustrous black finish, its shape smooth and streamlined, the mid-engine faintly visible, and an oversized rear wing standing out in dramatic fashion.

“Is this our commute?” Mo Shu asked, though he already knew the answer.

“Yes, all your luggage is loaded, rest assured—nothing’s missing!” Li Xun replied.

Mo Shu, excited, jumped into the cockpit first, then helped the others aboard.

Once everyone was settled, the engine roared to life, its deafening sound shaking the air, and the turbulence swept Wang Yining’s hair up so she had to tie it back.

“Let’s go!” Mo Shu shouted with excitement.

A German-made D300X multi-purpose helicopter, painted in black and gold, slowly lifted off.

Stuttgart’s cityscape unfolded beneath them; from inside the cabin, the clouds drifting overhead seemed close enough to touch.

Wang Yining laughed nonstop, covering her mouth. In her eyes, Mo Shu was like a house dog finally let out after a long confinement, eyes brimming with curiosity for the world.

The scenery below gradually changed—no more tall buildings, no more low houses. It looked like they were flying over rural fields.

The nearly perfect, neatly divided farmland revealed the Germans’ penchant for order.

“We’re almost at our destination,” Li Xun pointed ahead.

A huge complex appeared in their view. To build a headquarters in such a place, it seemed Black Gold Petroleum not only demanded a sizable plot, but must have secrets in their research and technology they preferred to keep hidden.

As the helicopter hovered over the helipad, Mo Shu saw people already waiting below.

Two burly men in black suits were guiding the helicopter down with gestures.

Outside the helipad stood two others—one, an elderly man with brown curly hair; the other, a middle-aged man with fiery red hair slicked back.

Fernando Ken Ruslein!

This complex foreign name suddenly sprang to Mo Shu’s mind.

“Welcome! Welcome!” The old man with brown curls greeted them in somewhat halting Mandarin.

Alessandro Blackgolden—this was the old man’s name, founder and CEO of Black Gold Petroleum Industries.

As for the red-haired man, Mo Shu’s guess was correct: he was none other than Ruslein, one of the “Six Realms’ Supreme Champions.”

Ruslein gave Mo Shu’s hand a firm shake. Because of the language barrier, Mo Shu could only respond with a friendly look.

Meeting the champion for the first time, Mo Shu felt both nervous and exhilarated. Ruslein seemed to already know something about him; Mo Shu wondered if there would be a chance to learn a trick or two.

Li Xun must have studied German before coming—now he was acting as interpreter, while Blackgolden personally introduced everything to Zhang Aimin, keeping Li Xun busy.

It turned out this whole area included not only Black Gold Petroleum’s headquarters, but also their research factories, staff apartments, and an in-house department store.

The helipad where they landed belonged to the Black Gold Factory Racing Team, a subsidiary. Though little known internationally, this team only competed in German domestic races, focusing on R&D with racing as a side pursuit.

Mo Shu was incredulous. An internal team of such scale? It occupied a third of the entire area.

Even that wasn’t enough: Black Gold Factory Racing Team boasted a large R&D center, with telemetry, handling, brake development, and other technical departments all present.

Moreover, they had an internal test track nearly twice the size of Nanshan Circuit.

What a difference! Even Zhang Aimin clicked his tongue in awe.

If Stellar Racing Team were moved to Germany, it would probably just become one of Black Gold’s departments.

Blackgolden, hearing this, waved his hand with a modest smile.

Compared to the headquarters of internationally renowned factory teams, his Black Gold Racing Team still lagged behind in personnel, facilities, and equipment.

Wang Yu kept recording on his phone, while Wang Yining linked arms with Mo Shu, indicating that aside from racing, she had little interest in the facilities.

Blackgolden, seeing the tour was nearly over, shook Zhang Aimin’s hand and said, “Mo Shu is a young driver we all have high hopes for. We wish him success! You must be tired from your journey—I’ll arrange for you to stay at our guesthouse here at headquarters.”

Guesthouse? Did Germans use that term as well?

Li Xun shrugged apologetically, explaining that, translated literally, that was indeed what it meant.