Stop it, the country really can't fit any more bans on the domestic entertainment industry.

This moment.

They stared in disbelief at their boss, whose ideas were so peculiar.

The air became quiet.

Apart from the crackling of the firewood burning in the towering braziers, there was no other sound in the open square.

Those desperate criminals who had spent years licking blood off the edge of a knife stood frozen in place like wooden statues, their facial muscles twitching slightly involuntarily.

Old Zou stood at the back side of the platform.

His weathered face held an incredibly complex expression.

This veteran police officer, who has spent most of his life working at the grassroots level, feels that his values ​​are being subjected to an unprecedented and intense shock.

Just half a minute ago, he was tragically planning a desperate route in his mind, ready to shed his last drop of blood to cover his comrades.

Now, this young man, whom he regarded as having the foresight of a mafia godfather, has actually proposed to catch the mole by drinking contests.

He was a little unsure what Li Mo'an wanted to do.

Upon hearing this outrageous method of catching the mole, the scene became somewhat tense, but no conflict erupted.

The owls looked at each other, exchanging glances, seemingly seriously assessing the feasibility of the plan.

It was in this subtle silence that...

One of the biggest fans seemed to disagree; he cautiously raised a finger.

This man, nicknamed Old Wang, was a ruthless figure in the underground network of a certain place, and he controlled two important smuggling channels.

Old Wang's fleshy face showed a hint of struggle, as if he had a question to ask.

He opened his mouth slightly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with difficulty.

Just as he was about to speak, Li Mo'an on the high platform keenly caught this subtle movement.

Li Mo'an looked down at the other person with a calm expression.

Those clear eyes were completely still, like a bottomless pool of water.

"What?" Li Mo'an's voice was calm and powerful, clearly carried by the night breeze to everyone's ears.

He didn't fly into a rage because of the interruption; instead, he presented a fatal rhetorical question in a factual tone.

"You don't trust me, or... you don't think I'm an undercover agent, do you?"

This seemingly casual question, however, sounded like a deadly thunderbolt to Old Wang.

Old Wang felt a chill rush from his tailbone all the way to his forehead.

The muscles in his cheeks bulged out in extreme panic.

He had personally witnessed how the other party had so skillfully destroyed the Chhay warlord with just a few words.

Being publicly questioned by such a ruthless person, even if it's just a casual question, is enough to terrify him.

Driven by a strong will to survive, the big pink-haired guy chuckled dryly twice.

Laughter is more unpleasant than crying.

He quickly waved his hands, cold sweat rolling down his forehead like a waterfall.

To save his own life, he said with a wronged expression, "Uh, Boss Li, that's not what I meant!"

He was so anxious he was jumping up and down, fearing that if he delayed explaining for even a second, his ruthless companions would mistake him for a traitor and hack him to death.

"What I meant was, I have an incredible alcohol tolerance; I can drink forever, what should I do?"

Old Wang finally managed to say what he had been keeping inside.

He is genuinely troubled by this problem.

According to Boss Li's logic, getting drunk would allow him to speak the truth and prove his innocence.

But Old Wang is known for being able to drink a lot without getting drunk. If everyone else is drunk and he's the only one still sober, wouldn't that be like having mud in his pants? Even if it's not shit, it's still shit?

He didn't want to be wrongly accused of being an undercover agent sent by the police because his liver had an overdeveloped alcohol-degrading enzyme.

Upon hearing this answer, everyone present was stunned for a moment.

Then, that oppressive tension vanished instantly.

"Ha ha ha ha!"

Everyone present burst into laughter, their unrestrained laughter echoing across the spacious open-air plaza.

A bald drug dealer, clutching his stomach, pointed at Old Wang and cursed, "Damn it, Old Wang, stop bragging!"

The other leader, whose face was full of scars, was also laughing so hard he was doubled over. He wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes as he pointed at Old Wang and laughed.

"Haha, I thought you were really going to question Boss Li just now!"

The drug dealer slapped his thigh hard and loudly added a sentence.

"If you're really questioning Boss Li, I'll go up there and slap you across the face!"

"No, I'm an assassin who kills without blinking an eye, and you're asking me if my eyes hurt?!" Others chimed in.

not only.

Among the crowd, some people took the opportunity to loudly express their loyalty to Li Mo'an.

"Boss Li led us to conquer this land. If Boss Li is an undercover agent, I'd accept being executed!"

This statement was like a drop of water falling into boiling oil, instantly evoking a strong resonance among those around.

A torrent of crude yet undeniably sincere flattery surged toward the platform.

Listening to this blatant flattery, Li Mo'an sat high on the chair that symbolized power.

He looked down at the fanatical faces below and nodded calmly.

There was no excuse or any sign of guilt.

He accepted this almost blind loyalty quite naturally.

Then, Li Mo'an raised his hand and made a downward pressing motion.

The noise in the square immediately subsided.

He loudly announced that he had his men bring up all the good wine from the Chatchai cellar!

Upon hearing this order, the eager henchmen immediately sprang into action.

They cheered as they rushed to the back of the estate to unload the warlord's prized liquor, which he had treasured for years.

After arranging these matters, Li Mo'an slowly turned his head.

His gaze pierced through the flickering firelight, and he gave a deep look to the man who had seized the opportunity to pledge his loyalty.

He was a middle-aged thug with a mustache, and his face was flushed with pride because he had received the attention of his boss.

Li Mo'an memorized the other person's appearance.

Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of ordinary cigarettes.

He took out a cigarette and lit it.

The flame from the lighter illuminated his expressionless face.

However, he doesn't smoke at all.

He simply let the slightly pungent smoke linger in his mouth before spitting it out.

The grayish-white smoke rings rose slowly into the air before being dispersed by the night breeze.

He did this because of what the other person said.

Following his unusual thought process, the sequence of events became very clear.

After all, since the other party said that if he was an undercover agent, he would accept being shot, then as the boss, he absolutely could not embarrass him!

In this world, being able to help others is a skill.

So he has to smoke a domestic cigarette first, to contribute some money to the country for bullets.

When I returned to China and executed the other party, I contributed that bullet!

And it was at this time...

The henchmen in the distance were already carrying cases of strong liquor, walking briskly over.

Looking at the neatly stacked bottles, Li Mo'an threw the half-smoked cigarette on the ground and gently crushed it out with the sole of his shoe.