Gangster heir? Please call me a legitimate entrepreneur.

Rewind to twenty minutes earlier. Airport Expressway.

The heater was turned up high in the yellow ride-hailing car.

The air vents were spewing out hot air.

Dafei rested one hand on the steering wheel. With the other hand, he lowered the window slightly.

A cold breeze slipped in through the gaps between the fingers, dispelling the cheap lemon perfume smell in the carriage.

But the wind couldn't dispel the other smell wafting from the back seat.

Dafei sniffed.

A sudden dryness ran deep in my nasal cavity. My stomach tightened in response.

That smelled like WD-40 rust remover mixed with high-grade gun oil.

People who handle guns year-round are as sensitive to this smell as a hunting dog.

He used to be a double-flower red stick in the Hongtai Gang, and he always kept a Type 54 pistol under his pillow. He could smell it even with his eyes closed.

Dafei glanced at the rearview mirror inside the car.

The tall white man named Jack leaned back in his chair.

The collar of the trench coat stood up.

The car jolted as it went over the speed bump at the tollbooth.

Jack's left hand instinctively pressed against his right armpit through the fabric of his trench coat.

The surface of the garment is marked with a hard, regular right-angled outline.

It's not a wallet. And it's definitely not a cell phone.

Based on that curve, Dafei could tell with his toes that it was a short gun.

It's most likely a large-caliber gun like a Glock.

Dafei's palms were covered in a layer of slippery, cold sweat.

He rubbed his hands together vigorously on the rough legs of his uniform trousers.

These two bastards, bringing hard weapons to the Sihai headquarters in broad daylight?

They were definitely after the boss, Su Ye.

Dafei gritted his teeth, and the scar on his forehead twitched.

He took his right hand off the steering wheel and fumbled on the black plastic frame in the lower right corner of the car's infotainment screen.

"Hey, foreign friend."

Dafei spoke in a thick Longhai dialect, deliberately raising his voice, revealing a foolish, ingratiating manner.

"You're going to Sihai Group to discuss a big deal? I heard the boss there is incredibly wealthy."

As he muttered to himself, his right index finger touched the small red bump disguised as a volume button.

one two three.

Press the button three times in quick succession.

The button's resistance provides feedback to your fingertips.

The screen navigation flashed, and a blue shield icon, no bigger than a grain of rice, popped up in the lower right corner.

The signal has been sent.

Sihai Security's highest-level one-click anti-riot call.

Tom in the back seat opened his eyes.

His blue eyes showed irritation, and he was chewing gum.

"Shut up. Focus on driving."

His Chinese was spoken as if he were holding a radish in his mouth, very awkward.

Dafei shrank his neck.

"Alright, alright. I won't say anything. You two, sit tight."

He gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands and pressed the accelerator a little harder.

He was mentally calculating where to take these two plague-ridden men with firearms.

It must not be brought back to the headquarters building.

The boss has been running a high fever in the infirmary these past two days, and there are mostly clerical staff at headquarters. If a real fight breaks out, those bookworms in the legal department will wet their pants.

He glanced at the navigation.

Five kilometers ahead, after you exit the elevated road, lies that abandoned warehouse area in the southern suburbs.

Fifteen minutes later.

Sihai Group Headquarters. Basement Level 1 Security Monitoring Center.

The entire wall of LCD screens emitted a stark white light.

Zhang Tiezhu, dressed in a special police training uniform, was blowing steam from a mug of boiled water.

"Drip—drip—drip—"

A sudden, urgent electronic alarm blared in the server room.

A huge red exclamation mark popped up in the center of the main screen.

Zhang Tiezhu's hand trembled.

Boiling water was poured onto the back of his hand, scalding him so much that he gasped for breath.

He didn't bother wiping it, and slammed the enamel mug heavily onto the table.

The bottom of the jar hit the marble tabletop with a dull thud.

"A ride-hailing service? A level-three riot alarm?"

He leaned closer to the screen.

The vehicle registration number displayed is: 京A8841. Driver: Dafei.

The GPS location is moving rapidly, veering off the city center and heading straight for an abandoned warehouse in the southern suburbs.

"Quickly! Sound the alarm!"

Zhang Tiezhu shouted at the top of his lungs, his thick local accent making the on-duty monitoring staff tremble.

"Notify Director Lei immediately!"

Lei Hu was sitting on a bench outside the infirmary.

There was a blood-soaked gauze pad on his forehead.

He was patrolling the garage when he looked down at his phone and his forehead hit a fire hydrant squarely.

His face was covered in blood.

Zhou Ming, who was passing by, was so frightened that he screamed and claimed that an assassin had sneaked into the building and knocked out the security director.

Lei Hu had just finished bandaging his wound when he received a call from Zhang Tiezhu on his walkie-talkie.

"What the heck? Dafei pressed the highest alert?"

Lei Hu ripped the towel off his neck and stood up abruptly.

The centipede scar on his face turned bright red with excitement.

"A foreigner with a gun?"

He grinned from ear to ear and roared into the walkie-talkie.

"Where's the Ministry of Justice?! Call everyone in from the Ministry of Justice! Bring the 'Public Security Administration Punishment Law'!"

"Brothers! Grab your weapons! Head to the warehouse in the south suburbs!"

Lei Hu grabbed the riot control fork from the corner of the wall.

Push the button.

A blue electric arc crackled.

He's been practicing polite phrases in a high-pitched voice at the company every day for the past few months; his bones are practically rusting.

Today, he finally has a legitimate live target to stretch his muscles.

The focus shifts back to the abandoned warehouse in the southern suburbs.

It was quiet all around.

The only sound was the rustling of plastic bags being swept across the ground by the wind.

A yellow car was parked in front of the rusty iron gate.

Dafei stood outside the car door.

Press the switch.

Blue arcs of electricity leaped wildly at the tip of the fork, emitting a piercing crackling sound.

"Get down here."

Dafei no longer pretends to be that timid ride-hailing driver.

His back was ramrod straight, and his eyes were like knives staring at the back seat.

in the carriage.

Jack and Tom looked grim.

They exchanged a glance.

They knew their whereabouts had been exposed. This seemingly simple-minded driver was no ordinary person.

"F**k."

Tom cursed and shoved the car door open.

One foot had just stepped onto the ground covered with gravel.

Dafei's riot control fork went straight in.

Carrying three hundred volts of high voltage, it went straight for Tom's chest.

Jack reacted extremely quickly.

He suddenly turned to the side in the back seat, his right hand reaching under his trench coat like a venomous snake.

He grabbed the 3D-printed ceramic pistol.

The gun was pointed directly at Dafei's head outside the window.

There was no clanging sound of metal; the action of drawing the gun was clean and swift.

Dafei caught a glimpse of the grayish-white gun out of the corner of his eye.

My heart skipped a beat.

A plastic gun?

He had heard before that the dark web had these high-tech gadgets that could bypass security checks.

Although the bullets fired are not in copper casings, they can still blow a person's head off within five meters.

Dafei flew down to the next crouch.

The riot control fork changed direction and slammed hard against the edge of the car door.

A trail of sparks flew up.

Jack's finger was on the trigger.

A cruel sneer appeared on his face.

The gun barrel was locked firmly on Dafei's forehead.

Just as Jack was about to pull the trigger...

Suddenly, a piercing car horn blared around the warehouse.

Twelve black Porsche Cayennes emerged from the overgrown weeds from all directions like ghosts.

The tires emitted a pungent, burnt smell as they rubbed against the gravel.

They completely surrounded the yellow ride-hailing car in the middle.

"Slap! Slap! Slap!"

The powerful spotlights on the roof of the Cayenne instantly turned on.

Hundreds of thousands of lumens of white light intertwined together.

The light shone on this abandoned warehouse, making it even more dazzling than the midday sun.

Jack and Tom were blinded by the bright light, their vision going completely white.

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

Jack instinctively closed his eyes, his gun pointing blindly forward.

"Listen up, you people inside!"

A rough, raspy voice boomed from the large red and white striped loudspeaker.

The vibrations made the car windows rattle loudly.

Lei Hu, shirtless, stood on the hood of a Cayenne.

The blood-soaked gauze was still stuck to his forehead.

He held a riot fork in one hand and a megaphone in the other, spitting everywhere.

"You are suspected of carrying dangerous and prohibited items, seriously endangering the safety of public transportation in our country!"

Lei Hu roared the legal provisions at the top of his lungs, his face contorted with rage.

"Put down your weapons immediately! Put your hands behind your head!"

"Otherwise, our legal department will legally claim substantial damages for emotional distress and lost wages from you!"

All around.

Hundreds of security personnel from Sihai, dressed in cheap black suits.

Each person has a riot control fork that emits a blue light.

The miniature high-definition camera on its chest flashes a red dot.

Like a pack of wolves that hadn't eaten for half a month, they stared intently at the two foreigners in the car.

Jack was blind, and he gritted his teeth.

He assassinated countless political figures and gang leaders throughout his life.

I've never seen such a bizarre scene before.

Hundreds of people surrounded him, but he didn't draw his gun or throw grenades.

Holding a high-voltage electric baton and reading the Public Security Administration Punishment Law to him through a megaphone?

They want to extort money from him for emotional distress?

"Fire! Charge out!"

Jack roared.

He shoved open the car door and raised the ceramic pistol.

He pressed his finger hard against the trigger.

At this critical moment.

"Splash—"

A large bucket of murky, dirty water that smelled strongly of disinfectant.

Fall from the sky.

It splashed accurately on Jack and Tom's heads.