A brave man may not live, but he cannot die

Chapter 216 The Gangster Adventurer and His Young Boyfriend (5)

This isn't the first time Elon has been asked this question these days.

Why did you do that?

"what is the benefit?"

'Does this mean the college?'

Have you considered the consequences?

He stood up, put his hands in his pockets, and walked to the French windows. The setting sun had disappeared on the horizon, leaving only the half-lit night to bathe the city in a tinge of crimson.

This world is vast; only the fittest survive, and the winner takes all.

Beneath the prosperity, what supports civilization is the order established by heroes and religions. The initial purpose of all development and construction is for the survival of mankind and the hunting of demons.

Five years later, when the demon race is completely wiped out as the sun prophesied, and humanity is no longer troubled by natural disasters, will this order still be maintained?

All those in power have sensed that the rules of this world will be reshaped, shifting from external to internal dynamics, and this transformation has already begun.

The war in the western continent, the increasingly fierce religious struggle, and the struggle for world hegemony between the North and South Poles.
Elon's face was illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the window; he looked neither like an ambitious idealist nor a scheming schemer.

The young man looked at the gardens, the city, and the clouds, but his eyes seemed to see nothing. At this moment, he was just a somewhat tired young man who wanted to calmly and peacefully daydream for a while.

"Today, Congressman Oliver challenged me in Parliament. He succeeded. If I can't handle the hearings in three weeks, I'll have to wait until the election at the end of the year to return to Parliament—"

"Three months is enough time for those who are more trouble than they're worth to use their best ability to cause trouble. The worst-case scenario is that the election will also be affected, I won't be able to get a second seat in parliament, and the new policies will be out of the question."

"After leaving the council, I went to Westville to give a speech to the workers. I wanted to tell them how to form a workers' union, and then I was shot three times in the back. Oh, the gunman was also a gangster, and his mouth was even tougher than your Golden Wind."

"Thank goodness," Ike said auspiciously. "It seems you have a goddess protecting you."

Elon didn't look injured; he seemed to be talking to himself:
"The reforms will not cripple the wealthy in the city. Their roots are in Aswell, so they are particularly afraid of the college and only dare to secretly incite the parliament to oppose me. But some mediocre people are different. Their businesses are not competitive and can only survive by exploiting people. For them, reforms are no less than hanging lampposts after bankruptcy."

"Aishwell has developed too fast in recent years, and the pie is too big to eat. It has bred a lot of mediocre people like them. I expected them to resort to desperate measures. It may also be done by people with more power and influence. Sending gangsters to assassinate someone, ha, that's not respectable."

Elon pinched the bridge of his nose.

“My mother was under pressure from the family. I know she doesn’t support me. She kept advising me not to go too far, at least not to touch the parliament.”

"What do you think?" Ike asked, watching his retreating figure.

“If the parliament doesn’t move, the new policies can’t be truly implemented—taxes won’t come in, social security contributions paid by businesses will go back to the businesses, and public institutions will become tools for profit-making.”

The thought, "This kid is weird," kept repeating in my mind.

“You’ve come at a very inopportune time. My father doesn’t support me either, and he won’t be attending. The parliamentary hearing will most likely fail, so I’m betting on the Prophet. Once the British government changes hands, a seat in Parliament belonging to Britain will be my capital to turn things around if I fail.”

Elon turned to Ike and said calmly, "Holding onto this leg of mine isn't as easy as you think; it's very risky."

"You still haven't answered me, why are you doing these things?" Ike stopped using polite language and asked from the perspective of someone his age.

Elon raised his chin slightly and said haughtily:
"When others ask, my answer is 'ideal,' I want to strive for a bright future for Eswell—do you believe me?"

Ike shrugged.

Noncommittal.

“I’m not a noble person. I did this not because of the city, but simply to secure a future for myself.”

Ike's expression turned puzzled.

It sounds like they had no choice but to do it.

He and his family's future would be brighter if they did nothing.
“A stingy person can’t be a mob boss.” Elon met his gaze, his eyes burning. “But Golden Wind is the only one in Ashwell that gives dividends to the lowest-level thugs, helps refugees settle down, doesn’t exploit prostitutes, and even has a certain sense of neighborhood responsibility. Ike, I’m telling you this because I think you can understand my thoughts.”

"--To achieve my goals in life, it's just a matter of making life better for more people.

He turned his back to the city, opened his arms, and said to himself, "My heart and actions are as clear as a mirror; everything I do is for justice!!"

Ike looked completely bewildered, like a question mark.

He couldn't understand a thing; he was very realistic, and he already regretted walking into the Branson family's house. Elon wasn't like a normal person.

But a sharp, explosive sound rang in my mind—

"Damn it, this delusional kid is looking for a comrade!!"

Ike suddenly shifted his buttocks deeper into the sofa; in his understanding, 'comrade' was not a respectable word.

The voice in my head was chattering away.

"Are you sure the academy will help him?" he couldn't help but ask in a low voice after hearing this.

Elon thought he was asking himself.

"Of course not. At least before the hearing, I don't think the academy will make a statement. They are still observing the city's reaction."

Immediately, he noticed that Ike's eyes had become clear, and he abruptly stood up and shouted—

"Congressman Elon—Loyalty!!"

"?"

“I understand you, I understand—” Ike strode up: “I believe in you, I believe in you unconditionally, don’t say anymore, we will win!”

"We will win."

Elon chuckled, surprised that this big, black guy was so optimistic.

"Then let's hope we win. Now that you've fallen out with the Alexandre family, you're stuck with me no matter what. It'll be a pleasure doing business with you."

Will it win?
Of course we will win.

Ike paid no attention to what Elon was saying; the voice in his mind was like a thunderclap.

The academy will most likely help him; this kid aligns with the academy's ideals, and they've probably already reported him to the principal.

—There's also a low-probability scenario where you seem to have won the grand prize and encountered the seventh hero.

"Sir, about the person who attempted to assassinate you today."

“I told you, just call me Elon.”

“I know you’re not afraid of mediocre people, and the Branson family’s security is more than enough to eliminate these threats. But if you don’t want your daily life to be constantly disrupted—” Ike was promoting his charity project like a gentleman: “We happen to be quite good at handling these kinds of things.”

Elon glanced at him, and about two seconds later, he snapped his fingers.

There was a knock at the door, and the butler entered silently.

"Stop the interrogation. Bring him here."

five minutes later.

Katrin, the Branson family's female bodyguard, pushed a wheelchair into the tea room.

She glanced at Ike and then quietly withdrew. A person sat in the wheelchair, his body wrapped in layers of bandages—beneath which seeped blackened scabs of blood. His limbs hung limply on the chair; the twisted and broken joints indicated he had suffered meticulous and prolonged torture. His mouth contained only half a row of teeth; he was no longer recognizable as human.

To survive such torture and still be able to hear the strong, powerful beating of his heart, he was clearly no ordinary person.

Upon seeing the black man in the white suit in the tea room, the gunman, who had remained silent since his failed suicide attempt, felt a flicker in his eyes, but then regained his composure.

Ike scrutinized his appearance for a long time, a faint smile on his face, and exclaimed, "I don't remember you. No wonder you dared to take on the job of assassinating a senator without fear of retaliation from the academy. I bet there aren't many people in all of Seville who have ever seen you."

"However, it's enough that you remember me."

Ike calmly half-squatted down, facing the gunman in the wheelchair who had been tortured to the point of complete disability, at a distance as intimate as that of a friend.

"No need for introductions, is there? Ike Capone, the godfather of Golden Wind, your throat should still be usable. Tell me, who did you get this job from?"

The gunman seemed to ignore him completely, his eyes were empty and lifeless, and his words were like water off a duck's back.

Elon didn't want to watch anymore. He returned to the sofa and began pouring tea, speaking in a calm voice devoid of any resentment:

“A superhuman with no life left, Sequence Nine, his tendency to go out of control is already very obvious. He won’t talk even if we continue the interrogation. He was prepared.”

Black people represent the most barbaric tribes of the Western Continent, and in the eyes of the people of the Southern Continent, they are backward, savage, primitive, and violent. It is hard to imagine that a Black person could show such a natural smile, so kind, humble, and polite, as if the man crouching in front of the wheelchair were a true godfather.

"I'm not threatening you, I'm just telling you what I'm going to do next."

"As you can see, our councilor is very kind. So wait a little while and you will be free from your suffering and return to your God."

"And I will give you a dignified funeral, clean up your body, make a portrait, and give you a grand funeral."

He continued, "But before that, my men will carry your body and portrait around the city."

“Every street, every house, your death will be reported in the newspaper, telling everyone that you are buried in a beautiful cemetery. Then I will wait, wait for people to come and mourn you, a week, a month, a year, ten years. I will wait patiently, forever.”

The gunman opened his tightly closed eyes and stared intently at Ike.

"Although I don't know who he or they are, I believe that those you care about will receive the reward you earned with your life, and that this will be kept strictly confidential. But I promise that whoever comes to mourn you—your parents, relatives, loved ones, children—will be remembered."

Ike's voice grew gentler: "If I find out, regardless of gender, I'll lock him up in the cheapest brothel in the city, where he'll spend his life with dirty coal miners and railway workers. To be honest, I don't know much about what they do there, but anyone with even a little money in their pocket wouldn't go to a place like that. They'd get sick in one night."

"Very good, very good. Your reaction tells me I guessed right. They are in this city, and they will weep for you. Are they ordinary people? Do they not even know what you do for a living?"

Ike stood up, casually straightened his collar, and said, "I'm done. Now you can die in peace."

Seeing that Ike was ignoring him and even threatening to knock on the door to have him wheeled away, the gunman's breathing in the wheelchair grew heavier and heavier.

Everyone in the Aiswell underworld knows one thing.

What the Godfather promised, he would always keep.

That's why the Golden Winds smuggling business can spread all over the world; they value their reputation more than their lives.

Finally, the gunman, as if deflated, uttered a name in a hoarse, broken voice.

Ike smiled with satisfaction.

“They will get the money they deserve, and I guarantee they will be fine.”

"Do you know who it is?" Elon asked, seemingly unconcerned.

"Abramovich, the second brother of the Razor Gang. Ha, those lunatics from the North Continent, they'll take on any job as long as they're paid enough. This is no ordinary gang; we have to crack down on them."

"You decide what to do—" Elon suddenly said urgently, "Push him away, push him into the hallway and hide him, quick."

"What?" Ike was puzzled, but he did as instructed anyway.

When he returned to the tea room, he noticed a young girl walking past the floor-to-ceiling window.

"I'm not just being polite, but your sister seems even more beautiful than when I saw her two weeks ago. She truly deserves the title of the most beautiful woman in Eswell."

Ike exclaimed sincerely, "It seems she'll be sixteen this year, right? I can't imagine how many noble young men will fall at her feet on her coming-of-age day."

A young girl walked through the garden, her pleated skirt and white sailor uniform ruffled by the evening breeze, outlining her slender and beautiful figure. Her pink hair was braided into a pretty knot, and her lips were bright and luscious. The girl, who had been carefully dressing up for a long time, would occasionally gather her skirt and squat down, making people curious about what she was doing.

She was selecting flowers, gently plucking the ones she liked and placing them in her hair, asking the maid beside her if they looked good. Every now and then, she would casually glance at her watch, then have the maid bring a mirror to fix her bangs. Her bright eyes seemed to be thinking of someone, and as she gestured with the flowers, a sweet, dimpled smile appeared on her face, oblivious to everyone around her.
"Uh"

Ike was stunned for a moment. Even a rather dull man like him could see that the girl seemed to be in the springtime.

"If I take back what I just said, I'm afraid many people will be heartbroken."

Elon sighed deeply.

He walked to the window, opened it, and shouted sternly to his sister, "You must be home by ten o'clock! Curfew, understand?!"

Xia Dai'er stuck out her tongue at her brother, instantly transforming from an adorable girl into the most troublesome rebellious and spoiled young lady in the wealthy family.

Based on my extensive experience judging people—" A calm, thoughtful voice echoed in Ike's mind: "This girl deliberately wore clothes that didn't accentuate her chest, and I can tell her size."

'This is at least a C, it could even be a D!'

'And she's a virgin of exceptional beauty. In just a few hundred years, have the sisters of Temuran already inherited such stunning genes?'

Ike sneered, "You've seen countless bull demons."

Elon was helpless as his sister ran away. The only person who could control Chaldale's mother was already planning when to announce the academy's son-in-law after learning of her daughter's success. She had completely betrayed her mother.

The sighs grew even weaker, feeling more frustrating than the election defeat.

"Miss Chaldie, are you going on a date?"

"how do you know?"

"Her eyes shone with happiness that was immediately apparent. Was she in the throes of new love? Youth is truly wonderful."

"I don't have time for that. I won't keep you for dinner. I need to discuss the hearing with my father." Elon didn't want to talk about his sister anymore and prepared to see him out.

"Didn't you say your father wouldn't participate?"

"That's highly likely."

“I have an idea. Could we arrange for someone to impersonate Mr. Reeve and attend the hearing? Provided your father remains silent.”

Elon paused, thought for a moment, and then shook his head.

“The lawmakers know my father very well; I can’t fool them. The Academy will probably send representatives to the hearings as well; this kind of trick isn’t very clever.”

"Excuse me, how tall is Your Excellency Reeve?"

"1.83 meters tall. Is it really possible for someone to impersonate that?"

Ike gave a mysterious smile.

"What a coincidence! Our Golden Wind happens to have a master of disguise. I've known him for ten years; he's extremely reliable and can fool the academy 100%—"

(End of this chapter)