After settling matters with the escorts, Adam followed the trail and clues left by Black Mask, leading him deep into the mountain region, where he quickly located Number One, Black Mask's top lieutenant. Though only a few days had passed since they last met, Number One already looked worn down. Still, a handful of loyal men flanked him, proof that Black Mask's inner circle was beginning to consolidate power.

When the two groups met, they chose to overlook past disagreements, putting on a diplomatic front as if nothing had ever gone wrong.

"The situation isn't great," Number One admitted grimly, "Intelligence suggests more than a dozen teams have already entered the mountain tribes—at least a full day ahead of us."

He was frustrated. The recent reorganization of Black Mask's forces had delayed them, giving competitors an opportunity to act swiftly.

Adam furrowed his brow and muttered, "A day's head start on terrain like this? That's more than enough time for them to clean the market out. By the time we arrive, there won't be scraps left. So... I assume there's more to this story, or calling us here would've been a waste of time."

Number One sighed and nodded, "According to tribal customs, trading doesn't begin until the full moon, when sacrifices are completed. That gives us four days before the actual market opens."

He offered a cynical smile, "Uncivilized as they are, at least their traditions give us one last chance."

Adam scoffed, "'Tradition?' Please. They're stalling—waiting for all buyers to arrive so they can weigh the best offers. It's all negotiation. The full moon excuse is just a convenient cover."

He tapped his fingers, thinking aloud, "Even with four days, a full day's head start means our competitors will have ample time to set the terms. Our chances are slim unless we change the rules."

Number One's expression grew serious, "That's exactly why Black Mask sent for you. We may need to use force. If it comes to it, we can hit them directly and take what we want. With your help, our chances improve."

Adam's jaw tensed.

Fighting was the last thing he wanted, especially not for Black Mask's gain. Throwing himself into conflict in the middle of the jungle, for someone else's profit? That wasn't a price he was willing to pay.

"Violence should be the last resort," Adam muttered, deep in thought. There had to be another way.

Then an idea sparked. Earlier, he had explained to Jason why the mountain tribes were so economically isolated—cut off from trade and resources. That scarcity could be the key.

"Do you know if those other teams brought anything with them—supplies, goods?" Adam asked suddenly.

Number One looked confused. He turned to one of his men, who whispered a quick answer.

"Most of them traveled light. A car, a couple of guards, a bag of cash. That's it. They wanted to move fast, not haul cargo. The tribes don't use banks or digital transfers—they still do everything in cash. It's always been one hand for the money, one for the goods."

Adam's lips curled into a smile, "Then we still have a shot."

Number One looked puzzled, "I'm not following."

Adam explained, his voice quickening with excitement, "Think about it. What are these tribes going to do with piles of U.S. dollars? They can't spend it up here. Eventually, they have to trek down the mountain to buy supplies—salt, oil, cloth, medicine, wine, food. So what if we bring those things up the mountain first?"

He leaned in, "We stockpile the essentials they need—right here, right now. When trade begins, we offer them goods directly. Under the same terms, they'll prefer saving themselves a dangerous trip and dealing with us. Convenience wins."

Realization dawned on Number One as he nodded and said, "That could work… but what if the other buyers catch wind of this? What if they outbid us—offer more for the same goods?"

Adam shook his head, "Then we sabotage the market. Burn a few shipments, spread the word that we've already cleared out the suppliers at the foot of the mountain. With prices rising and stock running low, the tribes are forced into three choices: pay inflated prices, wait a month for more goods, or cut a deal with us. Either way, we regain leverage."

Number One blinked, stunned. He hadn't expected this kind of ruthlessness—or ingenuity—from Adam. The risk was massive, but so was the potential reward.

Adam didn't wait for his approval, "Start scouting the local shops. Find out what the tribes buy most when they come down. Focus on volume and demand. Purchase accordingly."

He gestured broadly.

"We'll need transport—no point in relying on trucks in this terrain. Hire animals: mules, horses, whatever works. They're cheaper, don't need fuel, and handle mountain roads better."

Number One listened, half in disbelief. Logically, he should be the one giving orders. He had the name, the backing, the influence. And yet, somehow, in just minutes, the balance had shifted. Now he was taking instructions from Adam—and strangely, it felt natural.

The plan was dangerous, audacious... and possibly brilliant.