Forge a path to success.

Chapter 275 What a coincidence

The seal's nose twitched, and it wrote on the writing board: "[Hiland is a 4th-level particle, while his subordinates range from 1st to 3rd; none of them are on the right path.]"

"What do you say, buddy?" Vande asked, glancing sideways.

“Three seconds,” Chu Hengkong said.

"Really? 3 seconds?" the sea seal exclaimed in surprise.

“We can’t be too harsh, so it will take a little longer.” Chu Hengkong tapped the table. “However, it seems that this matter is not convenient for outsiders to get involved.”

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, or you'll get stuck in the mud!"

Sriel wholeheartedly agreed, and he put on a gloating smirk: "Detective Chu, you may not know this, but Bill 368 is a thunderbolt in city-state society, a milestone in electoral politics, unprecedented and unlikely to be repeated."

Having spent a long time in Europe and America, Chu Hengkong understood this very well: "Very stupid?"

"I'll put it bluntly, it's the dumbest bill the city-state has enacted in nearly 300 years," Sreyer said.

The sea seal, a native animal, promptly offered a correction: "[The most incompetent law in the history of the Thorn Robe City-State.]"

“So stupid it’s a laughing stock at parties,” Sreil scoffed. “This Mr. Hilland downstairs may be foolish in his actions, but he’s opposing something even more foolish. If you were to openly criticize him… I bet by this time tomorrow, the Dragon City support bill will be on the front page of the newspapers.”

Politicians and the media are masters at exploiting situations, and Chu Hengkong had considered this possibility, which is why he didn't act immediately. He pressed Vande down onto the middle of the table, and Eye Demon spoke for him: "But this fool downstairs is carrying out a terrorist attack, which is far worse than any bill in the process. It wouldn't be right for us to sit idly by because we're worried about taking sides."

“Staying on the sidelines is obviously not an option, and if we're going to intervene, we need to find a clever way. Poets are eloquent, but they're not good at fighting. Do any of you three experts have a brilliant plan?”

Sriel clearly didn't want to get involved, and no one had much hope for this slippery fellow. The Great Seal revealed a writing tablet and a die: [I'm skilled at reading auras; given the opportunity, I can make some small influencing moves.]

“I have a keepsake that can bring a little bad luck to someone,” Chu Hengkong said.

"I only know hypnosis, but unfortunately I can't reach it." Vande spread his tentacles.

Sriel plucked a strand of hair and drew a circle in the air. An image appeared within the circle—Hilland's face downstairs. He winked at Vand: "Can you reach it now?"

“Okay, okay…” Vande grinned wickedly, “Come on, I’ve come up with a plan, let’s all confirm if it’s feasible.”

The sea lion leaned in to listen, then gasped in shock. Chu Hengkong looked troubled.

"Isn't that a bit unethical?"

"We're doing legitimate counter-terrorism! Doing good deeds and accumulating merit!" Fan De said righteously. "Delay will only cause trouble, buddy, you go first."

Unlike abilities like the Calamity Scythe, the Chain of Misfortune posed no risk of being detected by Olek's main body, so Chu Hengkong felt no psychological pressure using it. Thus, the Chain of Misfortune was activated silently.

·
"If any of you citizens harbor resentment, feel free to curse and vent your anger at me. Even if it means being sentenced and executed by the city-state, we will still awaken you from your slumber. It is with this very awareness that we have taken these actions..."

On the first floor of the restaurant, Hilland was still talking incessantly to the camera. His men patrolled the restaurant with guns, occasionally banging the muzzles against diners, drawing angry but silent stares. The waiters standing nearby, holding plates, were unsure whether to serve or not, each with an awkward expression.

Hiland appeared far more relaxed than he seemed. Having drawn attention, the objective of the operation was essentially complete; whether he was captured or not was irrelevant. The firearms themselves were of little use; these foolish animals possessed the physique to withstand gunfire, but they had lived in peaceful city-states for too long, to the point that they instinctively feared battle and violence. Perhaps, throughout the entire Submerged Realm, one would not find another group so easily dealt with.

However, perhaps due to his intense focus on his speech, Hilland failed to notice that he was standing a tiny bit too close to the unfortunate Antler Cat waiter. His waving fist grazed the Antler Cat's plate, and the sticky mushroom dressing meant for sashimi dangled precariously from the edge of the plate.

The antlered cat nervously warned, "Be careful! Be careful!"

"what?"

Hilland turned his head warily, his fist just brushing the edge of the oil bottle again, and the cup of bright orange seasoning oil fell right onto Hilland's forehead.

"Boss?" "What's wrong, boss?" "What's the matter?"

His men all turned away, struggling to suppress their laughter. After being doused with the seasoning oil, Hiland's face turned a greasy, pale yellow, with oil droplets still dripping from his hair, making him look…

It felt like someone had poured water all over my face...

Everyone in the restaurant was trying hard to suppress their laughter. Hilland's chest heaved with anger, and he struggled to swallow his profanities. "It's nothing!" he growled, then forcefully shook his head to get rid of the oil droplets. However, this was a poor decision; the oil droplets were scattered everywhere, causing considerable secondary damage to his men who approached him.

Now it looks like it's been drenched.

"Pfft!" Someone couldn't help but laugh, and Hiland turned around angrily: "Who laughed?!"

The ghostly host sat on the gold coin, trembling: "Sir, as you know, we're professionals in the media; we won't laugh out loud... unless it's really funny..."

Hiland angrily wiped his face, but the oil was so sticky that he couldn't get it clean no matter how much he rubbed. "Shit!" he cursed, pulling over a stool and plopping down.

But as he was about to sit down, he realized something was wrong. He could clearly feel the stool, but he couldn't touch it at all. He was just sitting straight on thin air!
On the second floor, Vande chuckled sinisterly, while on the first floor, Hiland instinctively tried to lift himself up, but his body wouldn't obey him. Thus, under the watchful eyes of the entire city, this greasy-faced terrorist plopped down on the ground like a toddler just learning to walk.

And it made a "poof" sound as it sat down on something on the ground.

On the second floor, the large seal grinned as it played with the dice. Meanwhile, the guests on the first floor couldn't contain themselves any longer, their joyful laughter echoing throughout the room. The ghost host finally snapped, laughing so hard he was breathless. Hiland slapped him across the face: "Enough! Shut up!"

With lightning speed, the panda chef scooped up the ghost host with one paw and the freshly made, yet-to-be-eaten cream puffs with the other. Hiland's slap slammed down on the table, the white tablecloth and various cutlery sliding down. He tilted his head back, the tablecloth landing on him, followed by the plate hitting his head! The plate shattered! The cutlery struck the plate! The metal cutlery didn't break, but instead stuck into the tablecloth like tiny antennas!
Hiland scrambled to his feet, his face covered in a white tablecloth, his vision blurred and he couldn't see anything clearly. He tried to pull the tablecloth up, but the sticky mushroom's oil was so sticky that it clung firmly to his face. He yelled at the antler cat through the tablecloth, "You dare use this damn stuff to cook?!"

The antler cat looked aggrieved: "We usually only use half a spoonful... You drank the whole pot by yourself, so you should compensate us..."

"That's enough, everyone disperse and help the boss take care of the tablecloth!" The guy who looked like an assistant started giving orders. "Be careful not to get it on your hands, scrape it off with a knife."

"Alright." One of the waiters drew his dagger and slashed.

"Ah!!!" Hiland jumped up suddenly, letting out a pig-like scream. The dagger was stuck in his buttocks.

The deputy snapped, "Where the hell are you stabbing?!"

"Damn it, I'm not..." the guy stammered, "The boss smells too strong, I can't tell..."

"Shut up, all of you! Give me the knife, I'll do it myself!" Hilland roared. "You all need to be serious! No more laughing!"

At this moment, his intimidating presence was almost nonexistent, and the guests were laughing so hard they could hardly contain themselves. Hiland strode forward to grab the dagger, but failed to notice that a corner of the long tablecloth was dangling at his feet. He stepped on the tablecloth, lost his balance, and fell forward, his arms outstretched like a graceful swan.

The oil-coated soles of his shoes greatly reduced friction, allowing him to glide at incredible speed. Hilland kicked hard, trying to regain his balance, but as luck would have it, some scoundrel from the second floor threw a chicken bone down, which landed right under Hilland's feet.

So when Hilland stepped on the bone, he tripped and fell hard. His burly body flew across half the restaurant lobby with a scream, landing right in the tank of live seafood.

It was feeding time for the fish, and the hungry fish, smelling the oily scent of Hiland, rushed forward, mouths agape, to suckle. Hiland, hidden under the white cloth, was momentarily at a loss, feeling as if dozens of large mouths were forcefully sucking at him from all directions—their actions were utterly lewd!
"Fuck! Get out!" Hilland roared in terror, "What the hell kind of freaks are they?!"

These sea fish had incredibly strong bites; in the blink of an eye, they tore his pants to shreds, even gnawing a large hole in his underpants. Hilland, holding his underpants, leaped up and kicked the persistent fish away. One of the squid-like creatures, provoked, sprayed out a large amount of brownish-yellow ink, drenching him head and face.

He grabbed the squid, violently ripped off the tablecloth covering his face, and roared a few times before realizing his predicament in the mirror. His face instantly turned a deep purplish-red. He pointed at the camera lens and yelled, "Cut it off! No more filming!"

The director desperately protected the camera: "No! The ratings have hit an all-time high! This is the first time in our station's history that we've topped the ratings charts! Even if the King of Heaven himself came, we couldn't cut it today!"

Hiland nearly fainted from anger, forgetting even why he had come, and just yelled, "Smash it!"

However, the loyal underlings remained silent. In the brief silence, only the soft, smacking sounds continued, originating from a mushroom that had been flattened by someone's butt a few seconds earlier.

Everyone in the hall, including his underlings, stared at him in horror. More than 80% of the diners' eyes held terrifying connotations such as "shameless," "lecherous," and "shameless." A few diners began to loosen their collars.

Hilland exclaimed in horror, "Why are you all up? What do you mean? Why are you taking your clothes off?!"

A younger brother put his arm around his broad shoulders, his eyes glazed over.

"Boss...you smell so good..."

Hilland got goosebumps: "What the hell is going on?! What is this smell?!"

·
On the second floor, the big seal grinned and held up a writing tablet.

[Soft bean mushrooms and the ink of tender squid are raw materials for making a unique perfume.]

"...What does this perfume mean?"

“Biosex male, psychological sex female.” Van der chuckled sinisterly. “Passionately courting.”

Chu Hengkong quickly put away the chains: "I wish him good luck."

(End of this chapter)