Kingdom Bloodline

Chapter 760 Business Heir

what happened?

As he was being brutally beaten by two burly men, screaming in agony, curled up on the ground, and then pinned face down on the desk with his hands tied behind his back, Nar Rick thought to himself.

How did he end up in such a state?

Rick's head was buzzing, his vision was filled with stars, and half of his face was numb and in pain.

What did he do wrong?
Whom did I offend?
“Hey, don’t kill him,” a cold and unquestionable voice rang out, “You still have questions to ask.”

The grip on his arms loosened slightly.

But Rick couldn't relax.

Two minutes ago, he was sitting safely in the warehouse office of the fireworks factory, methodically reading and writing letters, checking ledgers, assigning manpower, and handling affairs, while watching the workers in the field pretend to pack asphalt powder for fireworks production.

Then these uninvited guests barged in.

Without warning, unexpectedly.

Without saying a word, these ruthless people showed no mercy, first taking down two panicked copyists in the office, and then an unfortunate warehouse keeper who came in to report at that moment.

Incidentally, he roughly slammed Rick, who had gone from trying to escape to giving up, onto the table, cruelly and coldly.

The bodyguards inside the warehouse remained silent, the sentries outside the door did nothing, and even Rick's barely useful alarm ability, developed over the years, couldn't provide any warning.

“We need to hurry,” one of the intruders said. “Their next train is at ten.”

We need to hurry, they need to catch their train.
Rick, enduring excruciating abdominal pain, barely managed to grasp those few words.

Therefore, they belonged to the same organization and somehow found out that they were at the fireworks factory and the shift change times there.

Did they know this was a Black Street Brotherhood stronghold?
Is it robbery, or revenge?

Were the bodyguards waiting outside tricked away, or were they ambushed early on?
How did they manage to avoid the sentries outside the factory?
Why did the warehouse's early warning system malfunction?
Rick was filled with countless questions and his mind was in turmoil.

Damn it, things have been so unsettled in Emerald City lately, and the Brotherhood is in a terrible mess. All his most trusted men have been reassigned.

Even Karak was out running errands and delivering messages.

The warehouse workers are all on holiday to attend the celebration.

He was isolated and helpless, completely unprepared.

This is absolutely the worst luck imaginable.

【Really? 】

Rick's heart tightened.

[Really]—his inner voice of reason cautiously reminded him—[Is it really just "extreme bad luck" that these mysterious, uninvited guests chose to invade the Brotherhood's territory at your most vulnerable moment?]

Rick paused, momentarily forgetting the pain.

The sound of footsteps came.

One of the intruders sat heavily on the leather chair that should have been his, placing his hard boots on the table with the soles facing Rick's nose.

"So, you're the accountant here, the one in charge of the books?"

The other person's voice was cold, and their tone was uncompromising.

This must be their leader.

Rick thought about it carefully.

Hopefully it's just robbery.

"Yes...yes...we just sell fireworks, the safe and the money box are over there..."

For the sake of his life, his answer was very obedient, even trembling slightly.

Damn it, it's all thanks to that famous prince—Rick thought bitterly.

Ever since that nobleman arrived in the South Bank Territory with such a menacing air, the upper echelons of Kongming Palace have been embroiled in endless political strife and unpredictable events.

This caused unrest throughout the entire Emerald City, with everyone feeling insecure.

Throughout the Queen's Day and the Emerald Festival, first, a serial killer roamed the city seeking lives, and rumors of water ghosts spread like wildfire. Then, the Blood Bottle Gang next door broke out in internal strife, resulting in a massacre. Two factions of thugs even fought each other and burned down Ruhsan Street. Not to mention, Duke Janne was suddenly ousted from the election, causing panic and chaos among officials, merchants, soldiers, and civilians. Then, the thugs suddenly blocked the North Gate Bridge, regardless of whether it disturbed the people, and went to besiege the assassins...

The long night is treacherous. Even the Black Street Brotherhood, who are used to walking the streets of the suburbs at night, must be cautious and trembling, crawling on their hands and knees in the devastating storm of terror, barely surviving.

To avoid making a careless mistake.

Hey, look at this now, even some clueless criminal gangs are breaking into homes and robbing people in broad daylight.

If only these guys knew whose warehouse they had robbed...

"And the accountant that Lazanchi Fisseau trusted the most?" the intruder in hard boots pressed.

Rick felt a chill in his heart.

Did they know?

Oops.

They knew this was Brotherhood territory, the territory of the infamous "alpha wolf" Faisal.

Rick immediately tensed up.

But they still came.

It wasn't robbery.

Not good.

Pretty bad.

Rick was still pinned to the table. He looked at the soles of the boots in front of him and forced a smile.

“No, that’s not true! Mr. Fasseau’s family is very large and his staff is countless. I am just one of them…”

Yes, he was just one of the many accountants and clerks under the famous "alpha wolf" Lazanchi Fisseau.

A lowly errand boy and hanger-on in the fraternity.

It's not that important.

It's certainly not as important as they hear.

At least for this moment, that's what Rick was hoping for.

The intruder smiled:

"You are dishonest."

The next second, before Rick could react, he felt his arm being pulled tightly behind his back!
Oops!

Rick realized something and quickly spoke up:
"No, no, no! We don't need to do this—"

The next second, he heard a "snap"!
Rick felt the pressure on his back ease and collapsed onto the table.

He froze for a second, then slowly turned his head.

"Tsk tsk tsk, it looks unremarkable, but it is actually the craftsmanship of the dwarves."

The leader of the intruders was seen toying with a mold-like black prosthetic hand, flicking off the blood on it with great interest.

"Using the remaining muscles and tendons at the amputation site to control the joints, the mechanical structure is ingenious, although it's not as flexible as a real hand... but it probably isn't cheap?"

The immense shock made Rick momentarily forget the situation.

He stared blankly down at his forearm, which had become bald again.

At the cut, the thin cords and hooks connecting the tendons were forcibly pulled out, leaving several small, bloody holes.

The pain came at just the right time.

"Ah ah ah ah ah--"

Rick, clutching his severed right arm, curled up on his desk and screamed in agony.

Damn it, damn it...

They actually...

Actually...

They actually took his prosthetic limb...

"Can an ordinary accountant afford this thing?" The man with the prosthetic limb was clearly cruel. He ignored Rick's screams and finished speaking calmly.

The surrounding intruders all laughed.

"Please! You don't need to do this!"

Rick was in excruciating pain, drenched in cold sweat, tears streaming down his face, and rolling around in agony.

"I swear, whatever you ask, I'll tell you, anything! Anything!"

Rick's pleas for mercy were choked with sobs.

"I'll tell you everything... just don't... my hands... my hands..."

The cruel man gave a cold laugh and winked. His men on both sides stepped forward and pinned Rick face up, preventing him from struggling.

The man threw away his prosthetic leg, drew a short knife, and strode forward.

"Tell me everything?"

He revealed a cruel smile, grabbed Rick's chin, and slowly inserted the tip of the blade into the latter's mouth.

Rick was so frightened that he didn't dare to move, and even temporarily forgot his pain, and could only watch helplessly as the other person moved.

"You're so spineless, little accountant, does your boss know?" the other person said softly.

The interrogator smiled broadly, seemingly patiently waiting for his reply.

Rick dared not answer.

He knew that the other party might be trying to establish authority, show off, vent their desires, suppress his dignity, or seek something through endless belittling and humiliation of others... who knows what they are seeking.

In his many years of experience in the underworld, there were enough people like him to fill the End of the Eye.

"Please," Rick pleaded, feeling the blade and blood in his mouth, too afraid to nod or speak loudly, only able to mumble his pleas, "Ryuri..."

What a joke.

Feuerbach promoted him, definitely not because he was inflexible.

When has the kingdom's number one drug lord ever lacked tough guys and hotheads?

Or rather, have you never been mentally ill or antisocial?

If I'm really short of it, I'll take a couple of puffs. What kind of guts don't I have?
If you really want to make a name for yourself through sheer grit and determination, then why come to Emerald City?
Go to Duanlong Fortress and kill the Northerners!

Go to the Western Wilderness and slaughter those orc bastards!
Seeing his cowardly reaction, the man gave a satisfied yet disdainful snort before withdrawing his dagger.

It's as if it's saying, "Look, is that all?"

Rick breathed a sigh of relief.

He started to think again.

But these people, these desperate criminals who knew he was backed by Fesso, were still fearless in the face of the consequences...

Who are they?

They came for him, was it a personal grudge?
Was the cleanup on Ruezein Street not done well?

impossible.

Rick has taken many precautions these days.

To ensure that no one could suspect the Black Street Brotherhood—especially the respected Mr. Rick—of the massacre on Rue de la Rue, the bloody conflict between the two groups of dung carriers and cart pullers, including the unfortunate fate of their leaders.

Is it the land dispute case in Fengpei Village?
Nor is it possible.

The case seemed flawless from every angle; it was simply a conflict between the tyrannical Baron Trent and the cunning, unruly farmers. Even digging deeper, it turned out to be a story of a greedy grain merchants' guild hiding behind the scenes, instigating the farmers to take the matter to court, even hiring the best lawyers, all in an attempt to take advantage of the chaos and acquire land at a low price. However, this attracted the attention of powerful figures, ultimately backfiring and causing them to suffer the consequences.

Absolutely no one could connect this to the Black Street Brotherhood—especially not to the dutiful Mr. Rick.

"How did you lose your hand?" the man asked, wiping the blade.

hand.

Rick shuddered upon hearing this.

hand?
He froze.

Oh, it's a hand.

His former hands.

As the pain from the severed arm returned, the nightmare scene from my memory reappeared vividly before my eyes.

hateful!

In an instant, Rick trembled uncontrollably.

He endured the dual pain of a severed arm and mental anguish, and perhaps also the sticky, wet sensation between his legs.

But now is not the time to cower and remain silent.

Calm down, Nar.

Think, Rick!

Then solve the problem.

Nar Rick.

Seeking self-help!

After all, this wasn't the first time he'd been handcuffed and pinned to a chopping board.

And last time...

Eight years ago...

Memories of the past flooded back, and Rick's remaining pupils began to constrict.

"Rod, Roda."

Rick tried to numb himself and answered without emotion:

"Boss Rhoda... took it."

"Shandala Roda?"

The man paused, a look of fear appearing on his fleshy face:

"That crazy old soldier from the Brotherhood?"

“Yes, yes,” Rick said in a daze.

He's definitely a madman.

"Eyes too?"

Rick nodded, instinctively reaching for the blindfold on his face, but was firmly held down by the burly man next to him.

The man remained silent for a moment, then exchanged glances with the burly men around him.

"what have you done?"

Rick took a deep breath.

Focus, Rick.

He had to be very careful with his next answer.

Whether now or not.

It's still the same as back then.

“I… I was negligent in my work,” Rick said, trying to keep his voice from trembling, “which led to the death of his son…”

"lie!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the other person roughly grabbed his hair, forced the one-eyed Rick to look him in the eye, and said with disgust, "If that's really the case..."

"Then how the hell are you still alive?"

Under the command of that serial killer Rhoda?
Rick breathed numbly.

“Because I…” His lips trembled.

In an instant, his missing arm and the empty eye sockets under the blindfold began to itch and ache.

They all struggled, trying to recall the memory of that night eight years ago.

“Because I…” Rick said absentmindedly, “I paid the price.”

Correct.

cost.

Rick felt a moment of dizziness.

A cutting board, an axe blade, and red-hot iron clamps.

Blood, pain, and unspeakable humiliation.

The dull thud of a joint snapping, the splattering of blood, and the sight of crimson before my eyes, followed by complete darkness.

And that cold, cruel, and inhuman face...

That night, he screamed out the name of Sunset Bar, gave the list of the beggars who had escaped from the abandoned house, reduced his sentence, and escaped punishment, but then paid the price...

cost.

Rick felt the pain in his phantom limb and eye socket, and thought blankly.

In the office, the man studied Rick for a while, then smiled and let go.

Rick slammed his head on the table, wincing in pain.

The man waved his hand, and the two burly men released him.

"Yes, I can tell."

The man sat back down in Rick's seat, looking at the accountant's pants, which had become damp without his noticing, with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
"cost."

But he is still alive.

Rick felt relieved.

He is still alive.

live!

Rick snapped out of his daze, feeling both ashamed and resentful.

The cruel man snorted softly:

"Then why did you come to Emerald City and hang out with Fesso?"

Rick shakily flipped off the table and curled up against the desk.

He wrapped his severed arm in his sleeve, strained to turn his head, and could barely see the room with his one eye:
Five people.

His expression was fierce, and his movements were swift.

They all looked like tough guys who could fight, each one stronger than him, a weak accountant.

The man who led the torture of him was especially cruel.

As for the old folding crossbow he hid in a drawer compartment, the one that had accompanied Rick through thick and thin...

Don't even think about it!

He can't possibly escape.

Focus, Rick, concentrate.

Strange—in extreme fear and resentment, Rick forced himself to think—this fireworks factory, secretly controlled by the Black Street Brotherhood, was located in the remote Burning Street within Emerald City. Its nature was special, well-covered, and kept secret.

It is an excellent location for warehousing and processing.

How did those scumbags know about this place? How did they know they could find him here?

Is there a problem with the delivery chain?

"Because I am... a local..."

Rick shrank back, looking timid and hesitant.

"This is my... hometown."

As he spoke, Rick was thinking rapidly.

The situation has been unfavorable these past few days, and all businesses have run into trouble. The "reply" brought by the barber from Kongming Palace proves that the new prince doesn't particularly like their kind of peasant business.

Rick, anticipating a potential crisis, had no choice but to decisively "close shop," drastically reducing shipments throughout the city and even the entire territory, especially those involving the canal district docks and the knight district military camps (trade and the military have always been the focus of political struggles). No matter how urgent the urging of new and old customers or how high the offers, they ignored them all.

Even though the losses are not small.

Thinking of this, his eyes darted around.

Was it because someone below disobeyed orders, was greedy, and secretly shipped goods, causing trouble and getting into trouble?

Or was it that he was careless when packing up, allowing unsuspecting outsiders to discover the location of the warehouse?
Or perhaps the decision to cut off the supply was too hasty, and some crazy bastard who couldn't resist the addiction decided to take the risk?
Hold.

Rick cursed coldly.

He knew it.

He knew that something would go wrong at some point.

He knew he couldn't rely on those bunch of mud-legged idiots under his command.

They are short-sighted and careless; they even manage to urinate in the wrong pit when they get up at night to take off their pants, only to discover the smell of urine in the pot the next day at dinner...

“Very well, a local. Then could you please tell me,” the man spat, “where is Lazanchi Fisseau hiding?”

not me.

It's not my problem.

Rick couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

These desperados were after the "alpha wolf".

The lead interrogator was strong, insane, and had a fierce expression. He was a man of his word and was used to being aggressive and domineering.

Is he Razanchi's rival?
Is it the Blood Bottle Gang, their arch-rival? Is "The Wanderer" Fogg, enraged by the siege at North Gate Bridge, determined to get revenge? Or has he seen through the inside story of several Blood Bottle Gang infighting incidents and wants to force out the truth?

Not only that, there's also Anton the Ripper, one of the Brotherhood's six big bosses, who has been trying to find out their supply channels and has a bad relationship with Faisal.

There are also merchants from the Five Colors Society in Tarun, who always want to come in and dump their raw materials.

The greedy grain merchants' guild had their eyes on the same piece of land. The dockworkers' association, timid as they were, wanted to launder their business and sever ties with them.

The drug dealers in Congzhong City wanted to "cooperate" to open up sales channels in the western region.

Seawolf Tanganga and his fellow countrymen from Kasai are interested in participating in maritime transport.

The Qingpiwo people in the Iris District have a grudge against those outside the North Gate Bridge; they've disliked them for a long time.

The Iron Bats will submit to the Brotherhood, but with human trafficking becoming increasingly difficult and profits decreasing, they might have other ideas.

The damned Bopeng family is even more audacious. Relying on their backer, Kongming Palace, they actually wanted to directly acquire shares—to gain control.

These are the treacherous wolves who have been eyeing the business of Emerald City and North Gate Bridge for more than a decade, eager to get a piece of the pie, but have been thwarted one by one by "Alpha Wolf" Lazanchi Fisseau with his clever methods and ruthless tactics.

"I do not know."

He said, trembling.

"I don't know where Boss Razanchi is."

But whoever they are.

He can't die here.

That's right.

Rick's pupils focus.

Last time, he didn't die.

That must mean something.

This time, he cannot die.

I can't die here.

I can't just die like this.

no way.

The leader snorted coldly and drew his short knife again.

"I swear!"

Before the other party could continue torturing him, Rick quickly spoke up:
"I am telling the truth!"

Yes, last time, he paid the price to survive.

And he has paid the price—the price he deserved, the price he was entitled to.

Rick gritted his teeth and unconsciously gripped his remaining left fist.

Then he deserves to get something and gain something.

To become something.

Only this is worthy of the pain and torment he has endured along the way.

Because this is what fate owes him.

He deserves it.

Rick's face remained expressionless, but inwardly he gritted his teeth and roared with rage:

You deserve it!
“Boss Faisal is cautious and keeps to himself,” Rick said carefully, searching for a possible chance of survival amidst the fierce gazes around him. “In all these years, I’ve only seen him twice, just twice.”

Two sides.

Two times, the faces were blurred and indistinct, only the voices could be heard but the faces could not be seen.

The invaders looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Hmph, Lazanchi Fisseau has always been afraid of death and has always been a coward. This is not surprising."

The man stroking the dagger narrowed his eyes, a hint of ruthlessness surfacing in his fierce appearance.

His eyes sharpened, and his tone suddenly changed:

"But you're telling me that he trusted you to manage the accounts after only meeting you twice?"

The surrounding thugs looked menacing, waiting for their leader's order.

Rick sighed and tightened the cuff of his bleeding right hand.

"Four years."

"Ok?"

“It was four years,” Rick gritted his teeth. “I worked in Emerald City for over four years before I got the chance to be promoted to manage…more things.”

The man and his men exchanged glances.

That's right.

Rick thought coldly.

Eight years ago, the dramatic change in his fate after the battle on Red Street left him wandering from place to place, and he could only flee back to South Bank Territory and back to Emerald City in disgrace.

To seek refuge from disaster.

Or perhaps they choose to live a life of ignominy and desperation.

He laboriously signed with his left hand and read with one eye for four whole years among his subordinates (and perhaps more) under Fasseau's command, navigating countless records and ledgers...

Four years of living in a daze, yet filled with resentment and unwillingness.

Until one day, Rick's meticulously calculated accounts suddenly revealed numerous flaws and troubles.

We're waiting for him to clean up the mess and plug the leaks.

Some of them are even impossible tasks.

One wrong move and you could lose your life.

This may seem counterintuitive, but it's not what most outsiders would think: the Black Street Brotherhood has not become more docile simply because it has settled in a law-abiding city like Emerald City.

Often, the Black Silk spies who manage to establish themselves here are more cunning and vicious than their brothers in the capital.

Whether it's against enemies or friends.

Just when Rick had exhausted all his strength to survive the ordeal, plug the loopholes, get rid of the trouble, and survive the longest week, finally thinking he could breathe a sigh of relief...

They are coming.

Rick clenched his fist.

They were impressive, yet they undeniably informed him:
Nar Rick.

The accountant who only has one hand and one eye left.

A loser who escaped from the capital.

You've been promoted.

Starting tomorrow, I will be in charge of the external accounts.

Manage more people.

To handle more complex processes.

just like……

It was as if an invisible wolf's eye had been watching him from behind ever since he returned to Emerald City.

Waiting for him.

As for why there were such big problems with the accounts that day...

Thinking of this, Rick said bitterly:
"And Razanchi, in his selection and appointment of people..."

Perhaps there are also murderers and cripples.

"...He has always been cautious and unpredictable, second only to his own daily life and behavior."

He tried to look the other man directly in the eye, so that the man could see both his sincerity and his cowardice.

Unexpectedly, the fierce man with the dagger did not threaten or torture him again. The former scoffed lightly, seemingly with a touch of emotion.

Rick even discerned a hint of agreement in the other person's light scoff.

“But at North Gate Bridge, the night of the siege of Losang II,” the man said coldly, “you were the one who recruited bounty hunters for the Brotherhood, weren’t you?”

Damn.

Rick's heart sank.

coming.

The siege at Beimen Bridge.

The worst, and most inescapable, part of his recent misfortunes.

It's all that unlucky prince's fault.

He ruined everything.

everything!
“Yes, yes,” Rick said bitterly, “the preparations for that matter… were my responsibility.”

So, are these people, these desperate criminals... a consequence of the North Gate Bridge incident?

Think about it, among the people involved in the raid on the assassin that night, who would have a reason to cause him trouble?

They were cannon fodder who, greedy for the bounty, obtained false information and died in confusion and ignorance at the hands of those bloodsucking villains.
But how can you blame him for this?

If anyone's to blame, it's Belisia and Phantom Blade. It was those two women, a femme fatale and a ruthless old woman, who set the trap. He was just following orders from above and carrying it out.

What an injustice.

If we really have to blame someone, why not blame the prince? Blame him for bringing disaster to the Emerald City?

Is it Tate Bischoff?

This unfortunate squire became infamous for being impersonated, earning the nickname "Sword of Destiny"—and incidentally causing Duke Iris to be imprisoned. From then on, no one in the entire South Bank Territory wanted to have anything to do with him. Even those who accidentally caught a glimpse of him on the street hesitated whether they should gouge out the eye that had seen Bischoff and burn it to prevent future trouble.

impossible.

After the incident at Beimen Bridge, this guy had been thoroughly figured out and completely under my control. He was already my for the taking and would never have the courage to turn the tables.

Is he an accomplice of Denver B.?
impossible.

Even though that petty thief mercenary is dead, he still owes the Brotherhood a debt. How dare they come back to provoke him?
Is it Levin Jabari?

Is this pretty boy trying to silence me, to prevent me from using Jabari's secret history of groveling—literally—serving powerful figures as leverage against him?
Damn it, this sword dancer is so suspicious and unethical. Rick hasn't even started threatening him yet!
That is... Kongyu?

A wandering knight-errant.

Rick's eyes went blank.

Are they those who are indignant about his death... and those who are outraged by his misfortune?

Are there still people like that in this world?
"Then you must have met the knife bitch."

The man in front of me sat in his seat and said coldly:
“Catherine fled to you and got help to make a comeback, didn’t she?”

Knife-wielding bitch.

Rick instinctively covered his right arm.

The image of that woman from that alley that night, with a missing arm and nowhere to turn, still chilling him to the bone, flashed before his eyes.

why.

Why was she able to scare him even though she was down on her luck and had lost everything?
What makes Boss Razanchi wary?

What price and what achievements would he, an insignificant gangster accountant, have to pay to become like her?
Even surpass her?
“I did see Boss Catherine, and I had to cooperate with her to prepare for the raid on the assassins,” Rick said, avoiding the key points and trying to be as truthful as possible, “but she disappeared after that night. I recently heard she’s reappeared, and a few people might be protecting her…”

It would be perfect if these ruthless characters, who are not to be trifled with, were held accountable to Huanren.

If he could also drag a few other annoying names down with him, like that guy who's always been eyeing Rick's business...

But before Rick could finish speaking, he saw the vicious man stab the desk with a knife!
He swallowed the rest of his words back down his throat.

"That vampire, serial killer, Losang II."

The menacing man twirled his short sword, his eyes flashing with a fierce light:
Where did you hide him?

Lausanne... II?
Rick took a deep breath, overcame his fear, and looked up to meet the man's gaze.

In that instant, Rick suddenly realized something.

He got it.

He knew who they were.

of course.

Nar Rick, you're so stupid, so slow-witted!

He should have thought of it earlier!

Their real purpose!

“Perhaps we should ask Miss Hilly,” Rick said, his mind racing, his mouth still moving. “The assassin escaped because of her…”

After all, everyone at the North Gate Bridge saw her snatch the prince's prey from his jaws that night.

"No matter how he escaped, he still needs somewhere to go, somewhere to hide."

The vicious man twirled the short knife in his hand, scraping against the old desk with a painful groan.

“I swear to the dead Quaid, I really didn’t know this!” Rick said immediately.

After all, even the elite warriors surrounding the prince were unable to capture him alive or at least kill him outside the North Gate Bridge.

"And the bounty hunters the Brotherhood recruited that day were all cannon fodder and worthless trash; how could they possibly capture him, let alone harbor him?"

boom!
The man slammed his fist on the desk, nearly scaring Rick into kneeling and begging for mercy again.
"Stop pretending!"

The menacing man stared intently at Rick, causing the latter to tremble in fear that the man would stab him.

"I interrogated countless people, and Losang was captured right outside the North Gate Bridge in the slums of the new suburbs. He disappeared in the thick fog and never came out again—in full view of everyone, in front of so many renowned masters! He vanished in a flash!"

He grabbed Rick by the collar and roared:

"This could only have been done by an insider!"

The opponent's grip was so strong that Rick's knees were lifted off the ground, leaving him terrified.

"And in the entire North Gate Bridge and even the new suburbs, besides your Brotherhood, besides the Black Silk, besides that cowardly Razanchi Fissor, who else has the ability to hide in Losang in public, and even keep the eyes and ears of the Sky Palace and the Starry Sky Royal Family in the dark?"

Rick could feel the man's angry, impatient spittle splattering on his face, but he had no time to worry about hygiene.

"Oh, please! Boss, you're overestimating us..."

He suppressed his fear and repeatedly defended himself:

"Yes, the Black Street Brotherhood sounds impressive, but in the eyes of so many big shots, we're nothing! Just ants that can be crushed at any moment! Even the order to cooperate with the Sky Palace in besieging King Losang II came directly from the higher-ups of the Brotherhood, and even Boss Razanchi couldn't object!"

“Even if there is some inside story—is it something I could possibly know?” Rick finished speaking almost in tears.

These words made the man pause for a moment. He thought for a few seconds and then released Rick.

"If there's something fishy going on... would your boss possibly know?"

"Maybe..."

Rick was panting.

They know at least more than I do.

"He definitely knows!" the man said decisively, his voice filled with hatred. "Among the people in this world who fear and hate King Losang II the most, there is definitely that scoundrel, Feisuo."

Rick took a deep breath, thankful that he had survived another brush with death.

But at that moment, the man suddenly turned around:
"Hey, you accountant, can you even read?"

Can you read? Do you need to write letters?

Rick's eyes lit up, and he quickly straightened his appearance, forcing a smile:
"Of course, I'm the accountant."

Unless they're trying to falsify accounts, how could they be illiterate?
That's good; at least it proves my worth.

"If you need me to write letters for Boss Darazanchi..."

"That's good, then I can rest assured."

The man nodded, waved to his men, and gestured to Rick:
“His tongue was cut out.”

what?
Rick's mind went blank.

what?
Tongue?

While he was still in a daze, the burly men on both sides squeezed up, pulled him up from the ground, and pressed him back onto the table. One of them even grabbed the scissors from the pen holder!

It's not... literacy...

Just now...

But he still needs me to write letters...

“No, please—” Rick instinctively began to struggle and scream.

But these gang thugs were just too strong.

“Oh, right,” the menacing man turned around, frowning as he reminded him, “Remember to stop the bleeding when you’re done—don’t let it happen like last time, or someone will die.”

dead?

Rick struggled even more frantically!
They felt increasingly desperate and powerless.

No no no...

“Go back and tell your boss, in writing, of course: Stop hiding and come see me right now—he knows who I am.”

The leading man drew a short knife from the table and continued to ramble on, instructing Rick:

"Otherwise, I'll continue to cause trouble for his men until I force this coward to come out."

No no no...

Fuck your mother's fucking...

Rick was pinned down, watching another burly man rummage through the office for a suitable tool. It was hard to say whether he felt more despair or fear at that moment.

"You won't find him without me!"

He shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice almost distorted:
"Unless something major happens, Boss Razanchi will never show his face easily!"

“I know,” the man said, wiping his dagger nonchalantly, “that’s why I wanted your tongue… The accountant in charge of drug funds had his tongue cut out, that should be a big enough issue, right…”

He chuckled and said:

“If you survive… wouldn’t a mute gang accountant be safer and more confidential? Then I’ve done Fischer a favor…”

Damn it!
Help me out!
Rick was filled with despair. He braced his knees against the table, kicking and thrashing about, desperately shouting:

"That's why you need me intact! Respected Mr. Nekra!!!"

Upon hearing this, the surrounding burly men were all taken aback.

Another henchman straightened up—he had finally found the clamp.

"Wait a minute!"

The fierce-looking man spoke up, frowning as he raised his hand to stop his subordinate's actions.

The leader of the intruders, Nekra, approached him with narrowed eyes and bent down.

"Do you know who I am?"

Rick nearly stepped onto the ferry on the River of Prisons; he trembled and his heart pounded.

"Yes, yes, yes, of course, of course," he gasped, glancing at her before quickly bowing his head. "You are... you are the Blood Bottle Gang... the famous... the renowned Red, Red, Red Viper!"

Everyone looked at each other.

"How did you know?"

The red viper's blade was close to his cheek.

“No…not everyone is interested in Phantom Blade and Lord Lausanne II,” Rick said, trying to calm his breathing and clench his teeth. “And not everyone has the guts to raid Brotherhood territory…”

The red viper's eyes lit up:
"Are you trying to flatter me?"

“No, no, there’s no need to film,” Rick said with a mournful face. “You are the toughest, most difficult, and most terrifying boss in the Blood Bottle Gang.”

What's so great about flattery?
Does having a tongue matter?

The red viper paused for a moment, then sneered:

“I’m beginning to understand why Fasseau promoted you after only meeting you twice.”

"Four years!"

Rick subconsciously reiterated:

"I worked for four years before I was promoted."

It's not two-sided!

No!

He got there through hard work and ability!

“Fine, four years,” Red Viper straightened up, completely unconcerned. “So if you suffer, won’t that make it even easier to drive that old dog Fesso out of his den?”

Rick was terrified.

"And that's precisely because Boss Razanchi can't show his face!"

He spoke quickly to prevent the burly men around him from also rushing to flatter him:
"Only I am qualified to represent 'Alpha Wolf' in public and handle everything for him!"

Rick paused for a moment, then emphasized:

"everything!!"

This word piqued the interest of the cruel red viper.

"What did you say?"

“That’s right, I, Nar Rick, am not just the boss’s spokesperson.”

Rick took a deep breath, tried to straighten his expression, and prepared himself for battle.

"Moreover, he is the business successor finally chosen by 'Alpha Wolf' Razanchi Fissor after undergoing multiple tests!"

His words trailed off.

Definitely.

Unwavering.