Written by: Joe Zhou, Foresight News
"After staying in Cambodia for a long time, you actually don't need others to teach you; you will naturally adapt to a whole system: banks use ABA, socializing relies on Telegram, and as for gray industries and cryptocurrency payments, they are inseparable from Huione."
On the bustling streets by Hoan Kiem Lake in Hanoi, Vietnam, I had a conversation with a practitioner who has been engaged in gray industry business in Cambodia for eight years.
He has experienced the most fervent years in Sihanoukville and was once deeply mired in gambling, locked in a "black room." He has witnessed how cryptocurrency has gradually become the "blood" of the global fraud system and ultimately became a link in this chain.
In early December this year, Huione, Cambodia's largest gray industry financial system, erupted in a severe bank run. As panic spread, he, as a "connector" between funds and channels, captured opportunities amidst the chaos and quickly profited. In this almost borderless and unrestrained area, human greed and fear are constantly magnified.
The night scene of Ho Chi Minh City and the busy and orderly Hanoi made this Cambodian gray industry practitioner, who had come to Vietnam for a short trip, feel a lot. He repeatedly mentioned to me that in Vietnam, he felt a long-lost "sense of comfort"—there are almost no fierce-looking people on the streets, and most people appear friendly and peaceful.
This feeling stands in stark contrast to the place where he has lived and worked for a long time.
"I live and work in Sihanoukville, Cambodia, where almost all vices are present."
The following content is my interview record with this Cambodian practitioner. The article will unfold in his first-person monologue.
Monologue
I have been in Cambodia for eight years.
I was born in northwest China and am a post-90s. Now, I have married and had children here, slowly taking root in one of the most chaotic countries in the world.
From the initial dream of going abroad to seek fortune to the abyss of gambling, from chaotic social order to a financial ecology dominated by gray industries, I have almost completely witnessed another trajectory of development in Cambodia over these eight years.
In the outside world, especially in domestic public opinion, "Cambodia" has long been simplified to a synonym for "gambling"; for those in the cryptocurrency circle, this is the most active lawless land for USDT. Today, I want to shed the outer garment of those news reports and, as a firsthand witness, talk about the real Cambodia, about how we have built an underground financial order with cryptocurrency in this "chaotic paradise."
A gray world dominated by Chinese, with "U" as its lifeblood, controlled by Huione, is growing wildly in this country downstream of the Mekong River.
The Abyss of Gamblers: From "High" to the "Black Room"
My initial intention to come to Cambodia was very simple—to seek fortune.
At that time, I felt there were few opportunities in China, intense competition, and it was hard to make money. A quick search online revealed a plethora of recruitment information for "online gambling" in Cambodia. Back then, the trend was still on the rise, and I thought that even if I was involved in gambling, as long as I could earn US dollars, it would be fine. So, I flew alone to Phnom Penh.
But the first and biggest lesson I encountered was not being scammed but losing to my own humanity. I became addicted to gambling.
Many people come to Cambodia to run gambling operations, only to become gamblers themselves. There are casinos everywhere, and Sihanoukville is particularly crazy, filled with casinos; that gambling atmosphere can consume you. Many practitioners in Cambodia gamble whenever they have free time.
I clearly remember that "high" feeling. I started with only 150 US dollars, won a little, and felt that money came too easily, crazily wanting to win more. Lost? Losing made it even worse; my mind was only focused on recovering my losses. Even if that money wasn't mine, but a friend's or borrowed.
The craziest time for me was when I lost everything and exchanged for 800 US dollars, losing every hand, losing over ten times in a row. I didn't believe in evil and exchanged for 3000 US dollars, going all in. At that moment, my heart felt like it was going to jump out. Again and again, and in the end, I lost everything.
In Cambodia, if you lose money and can't pay it back, there is only one consequence: the black room.
I have been locked in there. I saw others get beaten as soon as they entered, with no dignity whatsoever; although I wasn't beaten, I was terrified. They threw me a phone and told me to call my parents for money to bail me out. In the end, my dad sent me the money, saving my life.
That experience was a turning point in my life. It was like a bucket of cold water, waking me from the illusion of getting rich quickly. Since then, I set rules for myself: gambling is fine, even now I might occasionally take three or four thousand US dollars to play, but I will never "get high" again, and I will never go big.
In this circle, as long as you "get high" once, your life is over. This is the first lesson Cambodia taught me.
"Chinatown" Built on Telegram and USDT
In Cambodia, you will find a strange phenomenon: although this is the land of the Khmer people (the main ethnic group in Cambodia, accounting for over 90% of the population), the lifeblood of the economy, especially high-end consumption and the underground economy, is completely in the hands of the Chinese.
Without the Chinese, Cambodia's economy might be half paralyzed. Here, the Chinese are the de facto "upper class," while the locals often occupy the downstream of the industrial chain, working as drivers, nannies, or low-end labor.
This group of Chinese who hold wealth and violence has constructed a survival system completely independent of local laws. This system has three main pillars:
ABA Bank: This is the most useful local bank, which everyone used for transfers. But because it is a legitimate bank, anti-money laundering checks have become increasingly strict, and now those in gray industries are reluctant to make large transfers.
Telegram: This is the "WeChat" of the underground world. All communication, transactions, buying, and selling, even buying guns, happen here. You can see people on Telegram getting high on the street, even stripping, or directly contact sellers to buy an AK47.
Huione and cryptocurrency serve as the "central bank" of the underground world.
For friends in the cryptocurrency circle, you are used to using Binance, OKX, or on-chain wallets. But in Cambodia, Huione is the true king.
Why? Because most of the business here cannot be seen in the light.
What are we doing? To put it bluntly, we are mainly involved in fraud. In the past, it targeted China, but now the crackdown in China is too severe, with anti-fraud campaigns everywhere, and the gambling operations have long since shifted their targets. The current "pig-killing plate" is globalized, scamming Americans, Indians, Vietnamese, Thais, and even wealthy Europeans from Germany and France.
As long as the scam is successful, the endpoint of the fund flow is always USDT. And Huione is the "central bank" responsible for clearing, exchanging, and circulating in this system.
Huione: Cambodia's "Underground Federal Reserve"
In Cambodia's gray industry, no one will let you transfer directly to a bank card. The US dollar is the universal currency here, and Huione is the "valve" between the dollar and USDT.
In the understanding of cryptocurrency people, USDT is a digital code on the chain. But in Cambodia, USDT, through Huione, becomes cash that can be withdrawn at any time.
Many people don't understand why not use Binance? It's safe and compliant. The answer is simple: because we are in the gray industry. Binance has KYC (real-name verification), which can be tracked by global anti-money laundering organizations, and local bank transfers leave traces. But Huione is like a huge, semi-underground money exchange system.
Although Huione has an app, its core advantage lies in its vast offline network, with many physical stores. Its transfers are instantaneous within the ecosystem. People then exchange the money they scammed for U, and then convert U into cash in US dollars, or directly consume with U. In Southeast Asia, most KTVs, gambling venues, and other places accept U for payment.
Transferring U within the Huione system incurs no fees. Only when you need to convert U into cash in hand does it charge a withdrawal fee. Even so, its efficiency is far superior to that of regular banks for cross-border remittances.
Huione is like an offline OTC (over-the-counter) network spread throughout Cambodia. It has a facade like a legitimate company; you go in with U and come out with a thick stack of US dollars; or you go in with cash from scams and exchange it for clean U to store in your phone.
People trust it because it seems "unbreakable." It has a physical presence and a large amount of offline assets; on this land in Cambodia, it represents a kind of gray credit.
However, this so-called "credit" recently collapsed. This is an insider story that is rarely known to the outside world and is the biggest shock in Cambodia's gray industry circle recently.
Huione experienced a bank run.
Just earlier this month, panic suddenly spread. With international and regulatory sanctions, Huione closed many offline stores, and withdrawals began to fail. Can you imagine? A platform that carries the fund flow of the entire underground industry chain suddenly tells you, "We have no money."
At that moment, the market was extremely panicked. Holding a string of numbers (US dollar balance) in the Huione account, but unable to exchange for a single bill. The black market exchange rate collapsed instantly.
Under normal circumstances, 1 Huione dollar = 1 US dollar cash. But during the worst of the bank run, if you had 1000 Huione dollars, you could only exchange it for 500 US dollars cash. Half price! This is simply a cut.
But as I said, in chaos, there are opportunities. In this circle, when some cry, others laugh.
Now the situation in Cambodia is: everyone is withdrawing U, but no one has cash in US dollars. The extreme shortage of US dollars has created a huge arbitrage space.
We are currently making money off this. As a middleman, I hold resources and funds. If there is a panicked customer in the market who urgently wants to sell their 90,000 Huione dollars because they fear Huione will collapse and their money will go to zero.
At this time, I (or my funding party) enter the scene. We buy their Huione shares at a very low price or exchange cash for their U. In a transaction of 90,000 US dollars, between this entry and exit, I can easily earn a 3000 US dollar difference.
This is Cambodia. One second it's a financial crisis, the next it's a feast for vultures.
And as Huione falls, a new platform, H-PAY, is quietly operating, which is also under the Huione system. When the name Huione is sanctioned internationally, a new brand is activated to replace it, attempting to take over this huge underground payment market.
This is the resilience of the gray industry; when one falls, there is always another to take its place. The demand for fund flow never dies; the only difference may be the recipients. And often, the ones taking over are even the same group.
Living in the "Jungle": Life-and-Death Transactions
After staying in this circle for a long time, you will find that human life is worthless. In other places, paying tuition means spending money; here, paying tuition can cost you your life.
I have a friend who disappeared for a year. No one knew where he went; his phone was unreachable, and he didn't reply on WeChat. A year later, he suddenly contacted me, his voice trembling.
He was sold into a park.
During that year, he was locked in a remote area, surrounded by high walls and electric fences. His daily task was to deceive people with a script. Couldn't scam money? Then he would be beaten. Beaten to death. He said at that time he really felt like he was going to lose his life there. If he died, they would just find a random place to bury him, and that person would no longer exist in this world.
In the end, he contacted me, and I reached out to his family to gather 15,000 US dollars to bail him out. This was still fortunate; many people don't even get the chance to call for help.
So, in Cambodia, trust is the most luxurious thing.
Joe Zhou asked me how I got in touch with the funding party and how to ensure safety for both parties. My answer is: do not engage in any private or secret transactions. My clients are people I know, but the funding party may be unknown to me. In a country where you can buy guns on the street and easily drug someone to sell them into a park, one must always be cautious.
When we trade, we must find offline, public places. Lobbies, crowded cafes, or even places with security. We sit there, count clearly in person, and transfer money transaction by transaction.
"Want a drink?" No, I never casually drink anything offered by others, and I don't recommend you drink food or water handed to you in Cambodia. Here, a glass of water could be drugged, and when you wake up, you might find yourself in a park typing on a keyboard.
This is not a movie; this is my daily life.
Epilogue: Why Don't I Leave?
You ask me, since it's so dangerous, why not go back to my home country?
To be honest, I can't go back, and I don't really want to. It's hard to make quick money like this back home. Moreover, once a person adapts to this high-risk, high-reward stimulation, it's difficult to return to a nine-to-five life. Besides, my work, my family, and my lifestyle are all tied to Cambodia.
Cambodia is like a giant black hole. It is backward, chaotic, and full of vices, yet it is also filled with primitive vitality.
Compare it to the neighbors: Vietnam (Hanoi, Ho Chi Minh City) is now thriving, resembling China of years past; although there are gray industries, it is relatively orderly, at least you don't have to worry about being kidnapped on the street; Laos is busy building hydropower stations, acting as China's "battery"; China controls all the regulatory valves, cracking down on money laundering and managing financial risks. The financial systems of Japan and South Korea have both collapsed before, but China, due to strict regulation, has not.
Only Cambodia is the weakest link and the craziest one.
Here, cryptocurrency is not some "future of Web3," nor is it some "decentralized ideal"; it is a naked tool—it's a channel for scammers to launder money, a chip for gamblers, and the lifeblood for those of us walking in the gray areas.
Large USDT transfers flow from all over the world, crossing the Mekong River, passing through underground pipelines like Huione, ultimately becoming a sigh in a casino in Phnom Penh or a scream in some park.
This is Cambodia as I see it.
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