Recently, a mysterious fan submitted a post; this guy has been in Cambodia for eight years and just ran away from that 'all-encompassing' place to catch his breath in Vietnam.
'After staying in Cambodia for a long time, you actually don't need anyone to teach you; you will naturally adapt to a whole system: banks use ABA, socializing relies on Telegram, and as for gray market and cryptocurrency payments, they cannot do without Huiwang.'
On the bustling streets by Hoan Kiem Lake in Hanoi, Vietnam, he had a conversation with a practitioner who had been engaged in gray market activities in Cambodia for eight years.
He has experienced the most fervent years in West Port, and was once deeply mired in gambling, being locked in a 'small black room'. He watched how cryptocurrency gradually became the 'blood' in the global fraud system, and ultimately became a part of this chain.
During the chat, he expressed that finally in Vietnam he didn't have to worry about being watched all the time; it felt like two completely different worlds compared to where he had lived for many years.
This guy from the post-90s generation comes from Northwest China and has now settled in Cambodia, marrying and starting a family.
Back then, he flew alone to Phnom Penh with dreams of striking gold, but the first lesson was not about being scammed by others, but about losing to himself—developing a gambling addiction. The number of casinos in Sihanoukville exceeds that of convenience stores, and that atmosphere can completely swallow a person's reason.
● Location of Sihanoukville, Cambodia / Screenshot
He remembers clearly the time he got "high" with only 150 US dollars in hand; after winning a few rounds, he felt money was too easy to come by and got carried away wanting to win more.
Losing made him even more unwilling to accept it; he wanted to borrow money to break even.
The craziest time was when I directly gambled 3,000 US dollars; my heart almost jumped out, and the result, of course, was total defeat.
In Cambodia, if you lose money gambling and can't pay up, there's only one outcome—serving in a small black room.
He experienced it firsthand; although he was not beaten, he saw others get seriously hurt, which scared him tremendously.
A phone was thrown at him, asking him to call home for money to redeem someone. Luckily, his dad sent money in time, which saved his life.
That experience was like a bucket of ice water waking him from his dream of sudden wealth, and he set a strict rule for himself: occasional fun is fine, but getting high is disastrous.
In that circle, one gets high once and their life is ruined; this is the bloody lesson Cambodia taught him.
After staying in Cambodia for a long time, you naturally adapt to a complete survival system: banks use ABA, socializing relies on Telegram, and gray industry payments cannot do without Huibang.
Although it is the land of the Khmer people, the economic lifeline is completely in the hands of the Chinese.
Without the Chinese, Cambodia's economy could collapse by half. The Chinese are the de facto upper class, while locals can only take on low-level jobs like drivers and maids.
This group of wealthy Chinese has built an independent survival system that operates outside local laws.
ABA Bank was once the top choice for transfers, but now anti-money laundering checks are strict, and those in gray industries dare not make large transfers.
Telegram has become the WeChat of the underground world, where all communication and transactions happen; you can even directly contact sellers to buy AK47s. Huibang and cryptocurrency are the central banks of the underground world.
Friends in the crypto circle are used to Binance and OKEx, but Huibang is the real king in Cambodia.
Why? Because most businesses over there are shady; to put it bluntly, it's fraud.
Previously targeted domestically, now anti-fraud campaigns are everywhere, aiming globally to scam Americans, Indians, Europeans; anyone with money is a target.
Fraud is successful; the endpoint of capital flow is always USDT, and Huibang is responsible for clearing and exchanging.
Binance has KYC certification and will be tracked; Huibang is like a huge semi-underground money exchange system, with physical stores, instant transfers, and no fees for internal transfers.
Huibang has a widespread offline network in Cambodia, with storefronts that look like legitimate companies, allowing you to exchange U for a thick stack of US dollars, or exchange dirty money for clean U to keep on your phone.
Everyone trusts it because it looks like it "can't run away"; it has physical presence and assets, representing gray credit.
But this "credit" has recently collapsed.
In early December, panic suddenly spread; under international sanctions, Huibang closed many stores, and withdrawals began to not be processed.
A platform that carries the entire underground industrial chain's capital flow suddenly ran out of money; can you imagine the panic?
The black market exchange rate collapsed instantly; normally 1 Huibang dollar equals 1 US dollar in cash, but during the most severe run, 1,000 Huibang dollars could only be exchanged for 500 US dollars in cash, a direct 50% loss!
In chaotic times, heroes emerge; now everyone talks about U, but no one has cash in US dollars.
Extreme scarcity created huge arbitrage opportunities; as a middleman, he held financial resources and purchased Huibang shares from panicked clients.
A transaction of 90,000 US dollars, in and out easily earning a difference of 3,000 US dollars.
This is Cambodia, a financial crisis one second and a vulture feast the next.
After staying in that circle for a long time, you will realize that human life is really not worth much. In other places, you pay to learn, but here, paying tuition could cost you your life.
He had a friend who disappeared for a year; his phone was unreachable and he didn't reply on WeChat, and later he found out he was sold into a park.
Locked up in the wilderness for a year, he had to use scripts to deceive people; if he couldn't get money, he would be beaten to death. It took 15,000 US dollars to redeem him, and that was considered lucky.
So in Cambodia, trust is the most luxurious thing.
They always choose public places for transactions, such as lobbies, cafes, or places with security, and they confirm each transfer face to face.
Never casually drink anything handed to you, because a cup of water could be drugged, and you might wake up in the park typing away.
The editor asked him why he didn't go back to China, and he said he couldn't go back and didn't want to go back.
It is difficult to make quick money domestically; once people adapt to high-risk, high-reward stimulation, it is hard to return to a nine-to-five life.
Work, family, and lifestyle habits are all tied to Cambodia.
Cambodia is like a giant black hole, backward and chaotic with all sorts of vices, yet full of primal vitality.
Vietnam is now prosperous and orderly, Laos is busy building hydropower stations, and China is cracking down on money laundering to control financial risks.
Only Cambodia is the most fragile and crazy link.
There, cryptocurrency is not a Web3 future or decentralized ideal; it is a bare tool— a channel for scammers to liquidate stolen goods, chips for gamblers, and the lifeblood for those walking in gray areas.
Massive USDT transfers flow through underground channels like Huibang from all over the world, turning into sighs in casinos or screams in parks.
This is the real Cambodia in his eyes, a chaotic paradise that people love and hate.
[End of the article]
Note: This article is purely for entertainment and should not be taken as investment advice. Remember: Investing has risks, and gambling can ruin a life. Countless people have already proven this with their own experiences.
————— ♦ —————
Writing is not easy; follow me to learn more Web3 content. Don't forget to like and share!
