My own war game

Chapter 10 Disciple
"Doctor?" The man in the suit raised his eyebrows.

"It's me," Constantine nodded, and then asked the other party, "Lawyer?"

The man in the suit took off his hat in greeting.

"Well, I think we need to talk." Constantine lowered his gun.

"I agree." The man in the suit also put away his weapon.

"He is involved in the business, you have no right to protect him! Even if you are a doctor!" The woman covered in blood lying on the ground protested loudly. She had never been so embarrassed before. She was almost killed by an outsider just now. The flames of anger had burned the thread that maintained her sanity.

"Oh?" Constantine crossed his arms and looked at the man in the suit. "Is your waiter ready to speak for you?"

The man in the suit bowed slightly. "I apologize for her rudeness, but I also mean this personally. Why do you want to protect an ordinary person who is involved in the business? Is he your waiter?"

"Waiter? No, of course he is not." Constantine shook his head and then said, "But I still have the right to protect him because he is my..."

"disciple"
-
"This is April from TV6 reporting live for you. A vicious incident occurred in the southern suburbs of the city last night. A Colombian man was killed at home. The authorities have cordoned off the scene. According to sources, the incident may be closely related to the recent intensified gang conflicts..."

On the TV, a curly-haired host was holding a microphone and reporting live, while He Chi, lying on the bed opposite, was wrapped in bandages, looking like an old rag doll that had been patched over and over again.

Last night, when Mr. Constantine said the word "disciple", the other party left without saying a word and took the woman away. Afterwards, He Chi was also taken back to the private clinic and wrapped up like a dumpling.

Click, the door of the room was opened, and Mr. Constantine, wearing doctor's uniform again, walked in.

"Two fractured ribs, strained arm muscles, mild concussion, and more than a dozen open injuries. But fortunately, these are minor problems compared to what's in your head." The white-haired doctor first explained the physical condition.

"I know you must have a lot of questions in your mind. You can raise them now. I will try my best to satisfy you." Constantine sat on the edge of the bed and made a gesture to invite questions.

He Chi was silent for a moment, then said, "Doctor, lawyer, waiter, what do they all represent?"

"It's just a code name." Constantine poured himself a cup of tea and continued, "We are a group with a loose organization, and some individuals will take on some business that is contrary to current laws."

"For example, the guy whose code name is lawyer is actually a master of forgery. One-third of the forged documents in the Western District of California were produced by him."

"As for me, most of the gunshot wounds, poisoning or hallucinogen addiction problems caused by private fights in this area within 100 kilometers will come to me." Mr. Constantine pointed to himself.

"Waiter stands for assistant, and they serve as auxiliary roles for other professions. However, many of them are thugs or assassins, like the one you met today."

Then Constantine took out a photo, which showed He Chi's landlord, a fat man weighing over 100 kilograms. In the photo, the man was holding a suitcase and climbing over a fence in a panic.

"Hoswitt, the third-ranked figure in a Mexican gang, stole a large amount of hallucinogens from the border due to internal fighting two years ago and fled here. He opened an unprofitable hotel as a cover. As of last month, his shipments accounted for one-third of the amount used by local drug addicts."

"I started monitoring him last year, and a month ago someone from the Mexican gang took on the mission to eliminate him and informed me."

He Chi smiled bitterly, "Last year, that is to say, our meeting last year was not accidental. It was only because I rented that guy's house that I met you."

"I'm really sorry for hiding the truth. I'm really not a good person." Constantine said frankly after explaining this. He Chi shook his head and said, "Sir, I'm not a child. I'm past the age of using names to distinguish good people from bad people. I have my own eyes to tell right from wrong."

Then He Chi asked the question that concerned him most, "What is a disciple? Why do you call me your disciple?"

"A disciple is a student and an heir, the designated successor of each profession. Killing the other party's disciple is equivalent to an endless hatred, so the other party has no reason to silence you."

"But I don't know any medical skills."

"It doesn't matter. I don't have any real disciples anyway. If the thing in your head can be cured, I will teach you from the beginning." Constantine said easily.

He Chi then remembered that to the other party, he had less than a month to live, and using the name of a disciple to protect him might be pure sympathy.

"Then what about the police? There's a murder next door, they should come and question me, right?" He Chi propped himself up and asked.

"Don't worry, that kind of situation won't happen. We have an unwritten agreement with the government. Even if there is an investigation, it won't be related to you, because now..." Constantine paused and said, "You are my disciple."

"Okay, you almost understand the situation. Take a rest. I have to go out to take care of some things." Constantine picked up his coat, stood up and said goodbye, closing the door.

He Chi was alone in the room again. The TV was still reporting last night's murder. As expected, there was no news involving him and the Mexican dancer, and the report was intentionally or unintentionally leading the audience's thoughts towards gang vendettas.

"This is the so-called shadow area under politics," He Chi muttered to himself as he leaned his head on the pillow, and the scene of yesterday kept replaying in his mind.

The cold knife, the pistol, the smell of gunpowder in the air, and the splattering blood made him tremble, but at the same time, he felt an irrepressible excitement in his heart.

excited?

Am I excited?

why?
Was I like this before? He had never fought before going abroad, so he re-examined himself and found that his changes seemed to be during the period after he came out of the copy.

I just don't know whether I was affected by the war atmosphere there, or if he was just that kind of person and his nature was released because of an opportunity.

His mind became relaxed, sleepiness came over him, and Hechi slowly closed his eyes.

In the haze, a voice sounded in my ears again.

"The player's body is damaged, and the remaining time has reached a critical state. The dungeon will start early. The conditions for passing the dungeon are: the player survives for more than a month, or earns a gold coin."

"Time starts to be converted. The player has two silver coins left. A standard copy is generated. The player has a new title..."

"disciple"

(End of this chapter)