Rampaging Through the Heavens: Starting by sending Chan Ho-nam to Stanley

Chapter 198 You Go Just Because They Tell You to!

McDonald felt a little better after seeing this.

Although there were some unexpected events, things are finally back on track.

He thought for a moment, then picked up the cardboard again, ready to write down the next steps.

Next up is a betting game...

He wrote a few words, then stopped.

Forget it, I'm not writing anymore.

What's the point of showing off at this point?

He put down his pen.

The looting is still ongoing and will probably continue for a while.

McDonald walked to the front of the line, patted Robinson on the shoulder, and then pointed to the gambling table.

Robinson paused for a moment.

McDonald pointed to the gambling table again, then sat down himself.

Robinson pointed shakily to himself and asked cautiously.

"Is...is it something we're going to do? Gamble?"

McDonald nodded, his expression relatively pleasant.

This guy is quite clever, otherwise he would have had to write something.

Let's make this guy suffer less later.

Robinson staggered toward the other end of the gambling table, each step feeling like he was walking on cotton.

After finally getting to the other side and sitting down, I asked, on the verge of tears.

"Bet...bet on what?"

McDonald thought for a moment, then picked up two cards from the table and gestured to them.

Robinson guessed.

"10:30?"

McDonald shook his head.

"Baccarat?"

McDonald nodded.

Then he looked at the dealer next to him.

The croupier was a man in his thirties, wearing a uniform and a bow tie.

He was covered in sweat, his forehead glistening, his bow tie was askew, and his shirt had two large wet patches under the armpits.

He stood there, his legs weak and his hands trembling.

Surrounded by so many armed thugs, who wouldn't tremble?

McDonald waved to him and pointed to the gambling table.

The dealer swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

He walked over shakily and stood in the middle of the gambling table.

He took a deep breath and began dealing the cards.

My hands were shaking, I couldn't even hold the cards properly, and I almost dropped one of them.

Two for McDonald, two for Robinson.

Just as McDonald was about to look at the cards, the young bald man rushed over.

He was running so fast that his shoes slipped on the floor and he almost fell.

He stumbled a couple of steps, steadied himself, rushed to McDonald's side, leaned close to his ear, and whispered a few words.

McDonald didn't realize it at first.

After he realized what was happening, he shoved the young bald man away.

Then pick up the cardboard and write on it.

What do you want to say?

The young bald man was stunned for a moment.

Then he realized that he couldn't speak either.

Depend on!

He forgot about it!

Someone in the crowd saw this scene and couldn't help but burst out laughing.

The laughter was brief, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet environment.

McDonald and the young bald man's faces darkened simultaneously, and they looked toward the source of the sound.

Dianeson's face immediately turned pale.

He put his hands behind his back, whistled, looked around, and pretended nothing had happened.

He got too carried away...

He looked around, and strangely enough, he couldn't see the couple.

That shouldn't be the case, it was just here a moment ago...

The young bald man glared at the guy, wishing he could shoot him dead.

But now is not the time to dwell on that.

The young bald man picked up a pen and began to write quickly on the cardboard.

All the valuables we just collected have disappeared!

The characters were written very large and forcefully, leaving marks on the cardboard.

McDonald's face turned to shock as he looked at the words.

He snatched the pen and wrote.

What's going on?

The young bald man continued writing.

Here's what happened: I and my brothers were putting the things we'd collected onto the lifeboat, but before we even got there, everything disappeared.

After he finished writing, he flicked his wrist.

That's more than he writes in a year.

My hands are almost broken.

McDonald looked at the cardboard sign, then at the young bald man.

He can understand the individual characters, but he doesn't understand them when they're put together.

What does it mean when "the stuff disappeared before we even got to the ship"?

Did the thing grow legs and run away on its own?

Someone stole it?

Can someone explain this to him?

He wrote.

Where did it go?

The young bald man answered.

[I don't know, they've just disappeared.]

McDonald's:

His veins began to throb.

The veins on my forehead throbbed.

My temples are throbbing.

Damn!

He really wants to talk right now!

He suppressed his anger and continued writing.

Who went at that time?

The young bald man thought for a moment, then picked up a pen.

Miller, Porter...

He wrote down two names, then stopped again.

After thinking for a moment, he crossed out those two names and wrote another name on top.

Jimmy

McDonald stared at the name, stunned.

Jimmy?

Just as I was wondering what was going on, an Asian man ran over.

This Asian man was wearing the same red clothes as them, but his demeanor was completely different; he looked like a major villain.

With a displeased expression on his face, Chen Dawen ran up to McDonald's and said in a low voice.

"Boss, there are other people on board."

McDonald looked at him.

Chen Dawen continued.

"It seems to be Meng Bo from City Hunter."

McDonald's:

Why is all this nonsense happening?

City Hunter Meng Bo?

That guy who's always meddling in other people's business?

How come he's on this ship too?

He took a deep breath, picked up the cardboard, and wrote.

[Take men to capture him, regardless of whether he lives or dies.]

Chen Dawen stared at the cardboard and froze.

He looked at the cardboard sign, then at McDonald's, then back at the cardboard sign, then back at McDonald's.

Then he spoke.

"OK."

But he didn't leave.

He stood there, looking at McDonald, hesitant to speak, yet still wanting to speak.

McDonald frowned and asked with his eyes, "Is there anything else?"

Chen Dawen finally couldn't help but ask.

"Boss, what's wrong?"

He pointed to the piece of cardboard.

Why would you write something for no reason?

Although he knew that McDonald liked to pretend to be cultured and liked to write a few English words to show off when he had nothing to do.

But surely it's not necessary to write at this time of year?

Why don't you just speak directly?

It's such a simple thing.

McDonald's:

He stared at Chen Dawen, his eyes blazing with anger.

He picked up a pen and started writing on the cardboard.

Just go when they tell you to!

The characters were written very large, and the exclamation marks were very heavy.

Chen Dawen looked at the line of text but didn't move.

He looked confused.

"Boss, why aren't you saying anything?"

He was genuinely confused.

The boss hasn't said a word since the beginning.

At first, he thought the BOSS was trying to build up some kind of imposing presence, then he thought he was just pretending to be profound, and later he thought he was just putting on airs.

But now that things have come to this, why aren't you saying anything?

That's such a pretentious act!

Moreover, when that young bald man ran over, he only opened his mouth without making a sound.

He thought there was something wrong with his ears, so he even cleaned them himself.

It turned out that the problem wasn't with the ears.

The bosses really don't say anything.

What kind of operation is this?

A new type of robbery?

Killing with your eyes?

McDonald's had reached its limit.

He slapped him across the face.

"Snapped!"