Chapter Ninety-Three: Open Strife and Hidden Conflict

Stanley finished speaking in a voice torn by anguish, looking pleadingly at Chen Cao, who sat there in silence. Every person has the right to survive; everyone wants to live.

Chen Cao thought quietly for a moment and still made no move to let him go. The basement air fell at once into a heavy silence.

A faint moan of pain rose from the corner where Meimei lay. It had been nearly an hour, and she still had not been given an IV, nor taken any medicine.

The two men in the basement were both drawn to her pained groan.

Chen Cao shifted slightly and took his gaze off Meimei. Looking at Stanley, he let out a sigh and said, “Stanley, I want you to understand this. You’ve seen how I am now, down on my luck. I really don’t have the capital to bring you along, and besides, I’m being hunted myself. It’s hard enough for me to protect myself, let alone you.”

His tone was full of helplessness, but Stanley seemed to hear something deeper in his words. His eyes lit up as he exclaimed, “Mr. Matsumoto—no, sir, that doesn’t matter. Back in Odru, I could tell you were no ordinary man. You are truly the messenger of the true god. The true god will bless you, and you will surely make your mark in the future!”

Chen Cao listened to the flattery with impatience and waved a hand. “Enough. Stop with the useless talk. To be honest, I do need help right now, and I happen to have a job. I don’t know whether you’re willing to take it.”

Chen Cao did, in fact, need manpower to complete this business and get that five hundred thousand Morian dollars. And now Stanley had delivered himself to the door. It could not help but seem like coincidence. But could there really be so many coincidences in the world? No matter what, Stanley was not trustworthy. Chen Cao had already decided Stanley’s fate from that moment on.

“A job?” Stanley seemed not to understand Chen Cao’s thoughts at all. Like a dog catching the scent of a bone, he wagged his tail and hurried over from the doorway, sitting down in front of Chen Cao. His black eyes glittered with excitement.

Chen Cao had already made up his mind. With a dark face, he said indifferently, “Yes, and it’s a very simple task. When it’s done, you’ll get one hundred thousand Morian dollars.”

“One hundred thousand Morian dollars!” Stanley repeated, staring toward the black suitcase in the corner, so stunned he could hardly speak properly.

The Odinsey Hotel was the largest foreign-owned hotel in Layi, and one of the tallest buildings in the city. Because it was foreign-owned, it had become something of a no-man’s-land in Husum. All kinds of people stayed here: drifters, spies from every country, those who sold intelligence, those who trafficked in weapons and antiquities, and even every day, unknown cargo was carried out through its side alleys.

The government’s attitude was clear as well: as long as it did not affect national order or the annual tax revenue, then do whatever you please here.

After careful disguise, Chen Cao had become a refined gentleman. He wore a suit with a white collar, held a cane in his hand, and wore gold-rimmed spectacles; even a false mustache had been pasted above his lip. He had not spent all that time with Linghu Ruomu for nothing. He understood that to come and go from such a grand hotel, if one did not dress decently, the service staff with eyes high above their noses would not pay him the slightest mind.

Stanley had become his attendant, dressed in a little vest and bow tie, staying at Chen Cao’s side and looking quite the part.

They walked up to the front desk. Stanley cleared his throat and said to the blond-haired receptionist, “Ahem, miss, our gentleman has a room reserved—nine one seven!”

The blond young woman looked Chen Cao over, appraised his worth, and hastily undid one more button on the already low-cut blouse. With eyes like silk, she said coyly, “May I have the name and phone number of the person who made the reservation?”

“What?” Stanley glanced at Chen Cao in confusion. Behind him, Chen Cao, leaning on his cane, gave a slight shake of the head. Stanley, obedient enough, drew out a green Morian dollar bill from his pocket, flashed his white teeth, and stuffed the money into the woman’s cleavage with a smile. “Miss, is that really necessary?”

“You scoundrel!” The woman did not stop him. Instead, she took a key card from the drawer and smiled sweetly at Chen Cao. “Sir, it is my pleasure to serve you. If you need anything, just call me. I’m free all day.”

Chen Cao smiled faintly. “Oh, of course. I’ll let you know at the proper time. Miss, you are truly enchanting.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, boss, I swear that mixed-race blond just now would come running to let us have a quick go if we called her right this minute,” Stanley said as he lay sprawled across the hotel’s broad, white bed, letting out a long breath.

Chen Cao did not want to reveal his name, so Stanley had to call him boss. In truth, the title fit the situation rather well, so Chen Cao accepted it by default.

Chen Cao loosened the bow tie that was choking the breath from him and complained, “Stanley, didn’t I tell you to steal something a little looser? This old gentleman’s suit doesn’t fit me at all!”

As he spoke, he undid the buttons on his shirt, straightened his back, and exposed half his stomach, drawing in a long breath.

“Boss, just make do. Look at the rich people—aren’t most of them crooked and ugly as sin?” Stanley said, springing up from the bed and walking to the window. With a whoosh, he drew back the curtains. “Wow, what a view. I’ve never stayed in a hotel like this in my life!”

Before Stanley could finish, Chen Cao shoved him hard and pulled the curtains shut again. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? You’re giving a sniper a chance!”

“Oh, sorry, boss!” Stanley was pushed back hard enough to land in the chair beside him, and he said aggrievedly.

“Remember this: once you’re working for me, you’d better listen properly, or get lost,” Chen Cao said coldly, glancing at him.

“Yes, boss. I’ll definitely listen!”

Stanley straightened at once.

Ding-dong. Just as the two had barely reached an understanding, the doorbell sounded from outside.

It was only an ordinary sound, but the hearts of the two men inside leapt into their throats.

Chen Cao drew a dagger from his waist and motioned for Stanley to open the door. Stanley crept over to it, held his breath, and called out, “Who is it?”

“Sir, your lunch has arrived,” came a voice from outside.

“Sorry, we didn’t order lunch!” Stanley replied.

“Is that so? Then count it. Is the number of lunch items here correct?” The voice came again, carrying an unmistakable implication.

“They’re here to deliver money,” Chen Cao said in a low voice.

“Then what do we do now?” Stanley lowered his voice as well.

“Open the door,” Chen Cao said after a moment’s thought.

Stanley nodded, moved aside, and gently pulled the handle. He poked out half his head, just enough to remain hidden in the blind spot. He saw that the other man was also wearing a waiter’s cap, pulled very low, making his face impossible to see.

The door was open, but the safety latch beside it was still engaged. At Chen Cao’s signal, Stanley cleared his throat and said, “Let me check whether the dishes are correct first.”

“Sorry, sir, our hotel doesn’t have such a rule. If you don’t want it, then I’ll leave,” the waiter replied.

Chen Cao nodded. Having received permission, Stanley took a deep breath and shouted, “Wait, I’ll open it!” With that, he released the safety latch. The moment he did, the other side shoved the serving cart with great force, and the door was slammed open. So that’s your trick, you little punk? I saw through it long ago. Stanley immediately grabbed a vase and smashed it down on the head of the waiter who came with the cart. One blow, and he dropped to the floor.

“Damn it, did I kill him?” Stanley was puzzled. Since when had he become this good?

“Quick, hide behind the table!” Chen Cao had barely finished shouting when bullets flew in through the doorway. It seemed the other side had come prepared; the gun was fitted with a silencer. After several shots, the door was slammed shut again, revealing complete confidence on the attacker’s part. He was clearly determined to kill Chen Cao and the others.

The moment the firing paused for an instant, Chen Cao sprang out like lightning, aiming to kick away the other man’s silenced pistol. But the attacker’s reaction was astonishingly fast. He turned, and the cold barrel was already pressed against Chen Cao’s forehead.

When Stanley again grabbed the vase and yelled, trying to smash it down on him, a rope suddenly appeared in the attacker’s hand. With one flick and one sweep, Stanley was wrapped up tightly.

“All right, my friends, save your effort. The game is over.”

He spoke in standard Mainz.

Chen Cao looked at the newcomer. He wore a long overcoat and oversized sunglasses that covered half his face, but from his skin it was clear he was a white man.

Stanley struggled hard to break free from the rope around him, but to his shock, no matter how hard he fought, he could not escape. Only then did he realize that the waiter lying on the floor had a bloody hole in his back. He was clearly already dead, used as a shield by this white man in black.

Chen Cao said, “Stanley, stop moving. That rope is a thief’s knot, made specifically for binding criminals. The more you struggle, the tighter it gets.”

“Looks like you know your stuff,” the white man in black said with a smile, still keeping the gun trained on Chen Cao’s head.

“Of course. I’ve never cared much for this way of talking,” Chen Cao replied, his face utterly calm, showing no fear that one mistake could leave him with a bloody hole in his skull.

“I don’t have time to waste here. Hey, native, don’t move. Otherwise I’ll blow your companion’s head off,” the white man in black said, looking at Stanley, who was bound and still trying to lunge at him to buy Chen Cao time.

Indeed, Stanley obediently sat down on the floor and made no more rash moves. He understood Chen Cao’s strength. If Chen Cao was finished, then he himself would certainly fare no better in this white man’s hands.

The white man in black turned back to Chen Cao. The smile at the corner of his mouth gradually faded. “So? Where is the goods?”

Chen Cao thrust his head forward slightly, pressing the barrel more tightly against his forehead. “I said I don’t like doing business this way.”

He knew that before the goods were even mentioned, his life was still worth something.

“All right then. You tell me, what are your conditions?”

But Chen Cao quickly seized on the flaw in his wording. “You killed my broker. Then who are you?”

The Blaze King 93
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Chapter Ninety-Three: Open and Covert Strife
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