Iron Bull taucht wieder auf

Kapitel 119

For a moment, my thoughts suddenly went out of control, almost involuntarily rushing out and crossing the thirty-meter distance from the "Well of Spirits" to the square below the steps, appearing on the path that the handcuffs had to take to rush forward.

"Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh," the curved blades of the handcuffs flashed, slashing seventeen or eighteen times in a row. At the same time, a small silver revolver in his right palm was pointed at my lower abdomen, and he pulled the trigger without hesitation.

I didn't intentionally want to save Wang Jiangnan, but I couldn't let Xiao Keleng down. Just as Helen shouted out the last number, my heart suddenly melted at Xiao Keleng's gaze… I only did one thing: my left pinky finger suddenly slipped under the trigger of the revolver, controlling all its free travel and preventing the firing pin from ever firing. So close, I could smell the faint scent of Adidas men's cologne on the handcuffs' collar, and all the legends of his past invincibility in the underworld flashed through my mind.

The blade was cold, and I quickly caught a faint, salty smell of blood from the crescent-shaped scimitar forged from high-quality Arabian cold steel. Only a blade that has been forged through countless trials and killed thousands of people could retain this kind of "killing" scent.

The blade was already close to my eyelashes, but in an instant it vanished, because my right fist struck the left shoulder of the handcuffs with a sharp "crack," which must have shattered half of his shoulder blade; that arm was now useless.

With two sharp "thuds," the clothes on my left shoulder suddenly billowed up, like a giant butterfly torn apart, and I felt a sharp burning pain on the skin beneath. Those were two silent pistol bullets; it wasn't that I dodged quickly, but that the shooter had held back.

Helen gently blew on the muzzle of the gun in her hand, a silent sneer appearing on her face: "Impressive skills indeed. Egyptian magazines aren't all exaggerating. What? You want to challenge the tycoon's authority and stand up for the Gunners?"

A woman who can stay by a tycoon's side must be one in a million. Whether in bed or out of bed, the way she drew her gun and fired so quickly, fiercely, gracefully, and beautifully, could be a classic model image in a military textbook on handgun design.

My blood flowed silently down my armpit. Now that I had come out on top, there was no turning back, especially since I had injured the tycoon's top bodyguard.

After I struck the handcuffs, they staggered back a good six meters, every muscle in their face contorted in a grotesque spasm. Since they were targeting the Sharpshooter Society, they must have already considered the potential resistance from Wang Jiangnan and his men. But I was the variable in their plan, someone no one had taken into account.

“Miss Helen, I don’t want to offend anyone, but I must say that Miss Guan is only temporarily missing, and there seems to be no need to rush to punish anyone. I remember many senior figures in the underworld repeatedly admonishing their juniors to ‘win people over with virtue and bear great responsibilities with great virtue.’ The tycoon is one of the seniors I admire most, so I’m sure he has a deeper understanding of these words.”

The blood gushed out faster and faster, soaking half of my shirt. From Helen's enigmatic, cold laugh, I suddenly realized that her pistol was loaded with US military "serrated cutting bullets"—each bullet coated with a special long-acting platelet-dissolving agent. Once it tears through the target's skin, the wound cannot clot naturally for 24 hours. Without effective medical treatment, it will eventually lead to complete blood loss.

She doesn't need to take any further damaging actions; as long as she slowly stalls for time, I will faint from massive blood loss within fifteen minutes.

"Winning people over with virtue? I've already given the Divine Gun Society a break. Even if a thousand Wang Jiangnans die, how can that be worth a single hair on Miss Guan's head?"

I wonder what Wang Jiangnan will think upon hearing this? Will he be so ashamed that he wants to dig a hole and crawl into it?

As the leader of the Japanese branch of the Sharpshooter Society, he was not even worth an ant in the eyes of the tycoon. How could he have the face to fawn over the tycoon's woman?

With 120 men in black watching me like hawks, I don't think it will be easy to escape unscathed, unless I can get there first and use Helen as a shield. But does things have to get that bad? After all, going back to our history with scalpels, the tycoon and I are indirect friends. There's no need to turn us into mortal enemies.

“Yes, everyone is very worried about Miss Guan’s disappearance. We’ve been searching non-stop since noon yesterday. Please give us another chance, Miss Helen. We are sure we can find her…”

I believe Teng Jia's words; whether she lives or dies, she can lead me to Guan Baoling. This time, I'm betting on "life," with at least a fifty percent chance.

"How can I believe you—your guarantee? The Egyptians worship you, they regard you as the 'Invincible Warrior of the Desert,' but in Mr. Ye's eyes, in the past five hundred years, it seems that no one has ever been able to earn his respect a second time. Therefore, your guarantee is completely unconvincing!"

Wang Jiangnan, standing behind me, asked dejectedly in a low voice, "Mr. Feng, can you really find Miss Guan? If so, I'd be willing to lose an arm—"

I was getting annoyed by his stubbornness. The key issue now wasn't his arm or his life. The tycoon's desire to kill him was merely a fit of rage and wouldn't help find Guan Baoling at all. It would be better to keep him alive, as he might actually be of some help in the search for Guan Baoling's whereabouts.

"Whether you want your arm or not, whether you throw it away or not, is none of my business. Miss Guan isn't just your friend." I sneered. If Guan Baoling could be attracted to such a dull-witted man, God must be blind.

"What I need to guarantee is my life, and the lives of all the monks at Fengge Temple. How about that?"

Tengjia appeared on the steps, her palms clasped together, her grey monk's robes fluttering in the wind. Her noble and proud demeanor immediately overshadowed Helen's, exuding an aura of dignified and unapproachable integrity.

Helen was stunned. Tengjia was another variable, and one that had just emerged, definitely outside of all the information the tycoon possessed.

The atmosphere on the scene was changing. Helen went from being the commanding driver who intimidated everyone to being a participant who was overwhelmed by everything. The appearance of Tengjia made her lose her composure.

“You…you’re not…a vegetable brought back from Egypt…”

Numerous media reports have covered the story of Teng Jia, who is in a vegetative state. Tabloid reporters, in particular, have treated the matter as a cash cow, sensationalizing and fabricating stories without restraint. At least, all newspapers published before 3 a.m. today contained no news of Teng Jia's resurrection. How could Helen not be horrified by such a bizarre event unfolding right before her eyes?

As Tengjia descended the steps, four groups of gray-robed monks emerged from the temple. Instead of carrying monks' knives and staffs, they carried Russian assault rifles. The nearly two hundred monks formed a formidable force, their menacing presence comparable to that of the tycoon's army.

This unexpected change really left me completely baffled.

Fujika is the spiritual force of Fuuka Temple, as evidenced by the monks' prostrations and worship after she awoke. However, the fact that the temple possesses so many excellent weapons and can be quickly deployed into battle with such skill is quite an interesting anecdote within Buddhism.

“Tell the tycoon that we will do everything we can to search for Miss Guan. If he is interested in the ‘Underwater Tomb’, just say so directly. There’s no need to use any inexplicable reasons.”

Teng Jia stared at Helen with a piercing gaze. At this moment, she showed none of the naivety of a twenty-year-old girl. From her eyes to her aura, she exuded the demeanor of a powerful figure in the martial arts world.

Helen gave a dry laugh: "What? A tycoon who is the richest man in the world would covet a fictitious 'underwater tomb'? Even your Japanese emperor would have to politely offer him tea and a seat when he meets him..." Once her momentum was suppressed, Helen lost her usual elegant speech, and everything she said seemed pale and powerless.

Tengjia glanced at the group of men in black and said dismissively, "If the tycoon were truly wise, he wouldn't need to rely on the American army."

Helen's expression changed because Tengjia had revealed the group's trump card, and once this got out, it would spark another international war of words.

The existence of the Sharpshooter Society has become irrelevant. Fujika has become the backbone of the fight against the tycoon, and my rash intervention has become the trigger for Fujika to take action.

The helicopter door popped open, and a middle-aged man leaned out and waved to Teng Jia.

Upon seeing this person, Helen and the handcuffs immediately adopted a serious expression, straightened their posture, and became extremely respectful.

That's the tycoon, a genius who rose to fame in Asia and whose business empire spans the world, and is a role model for men and an idol for women worldwide.

"Miss Tengjia, would you please come aboard the plane to talk?" The tycoon's voice was deep and magnetic, and his smile was more elegant and charming than that of Oscar-winning actors.

He had thick black hair, extremely bright eyes, and neatly trimmed eyebrows. A famous Hong Kong physiognomist once said that he had "a perfectly round forehead, a perfectly square jaw, extremely sharp eyebrows, and extremely bright eyes," making him the rarest "face of a three-generation emperor." He was certain that with effort, he would become the ruler of a country within three generations.

Since the tycoon's ancestors for three generations were all ordinary businessmen, this alarming prophecy can only be extended to the future. In other words, if the tycoon cannot become emperor, then his son, grandson, and great-grandson will definitely be able to become president of the country.

Every time people see a tycoon in a newspaper or news report, they will likely review this great prophecy in their minds.

Even a simple wave of the hand seemed meticulously designed, displaying both the tycoon's gentleness and tolerance, while subtly implying the omnipresent authority of a powerful figure in the underworld.

Fujika nodded, slowly walked to the gangway, and looked up.

When the tycoon looked away, he glanced at me, seemingly casually, but only for a fleeting moment.

I had no intention of using my surgical skills to gain any advantage or to forge a close relationship with the tycoon. As long as he spared Wang Jiangnan, I wouldn't have disappointed Xiao Keleng. The blood was still flowing, and I gradually began to feel dizzy.

The tycoon extended his hand to Teng Jia, still smiling gently: "Give me your hand, I'll help you."

If I were a girl, I'm afraid I'd also be captivated by the tycoon. He's rich, handsome, powerful, and treats women with the utmost respect and gentlemanly manners. On the other hand, in the media's articles, he's portrayed as a man of great charm, easily winning over many socially adept women with his gaze.

Once again, my heart was pierced by a needle: "Guan Baoling... was she also captured by him in this way? Do all girls who are favored by him and spend a night with him feel extremely honored, like beauties in the harem being favored by the king?"

The tycoon is not officially the ruler of a country, but his power is equivalent to that of the presidents of more than a dozen African countries combined.

"Helen, stop the bleeding for him."

The tycoon took Tengjia's hand and helped her into the cabin. Just before the cabin door closed again, he said this to Helen. Then, the cabin door slowly closed, once again cutting off everyone's view.

Although it was just a fleeting appearance, the tycoon had already stunned the surging undercurrent of murderous intent in the room. Everyone lowered their guns, especially Hawke, whose face suddenly showed a complex mix of jealousy, envy, respect, and resentment. He stared at the closed hatch like a wolf about to go berserk.

Within the Sharpshooter's Guild, Hawke was already a figure enveloped in an aura of praise and adoration. In fact, when he arrived at Xunfu Garden, he constantly carried this feigned humility and superiority. He could command anyone except Sun Long, and countless beautiful girls were willing to throw themselves at him, including many rising actresses and singers from the American, European, and Asian entertainment industries. In the underworld, Hawke was the most promising "rising star," and almost every veteran in the underworld favored him, openly stating that he would be the future leader of the Sharpshooter's Guild and Sun Long's successor. But all of this paled in comparison to the tycoon. It was like comparing a grain of rice to a planet—only inviting ridicule.

I understand him, because I feel the same way when I see a tycoon, though I don't show it as openly as Hawke. There's only one tycoon in the underworld, and only one Yang Feng. I won't underestimate myself, and I'll strive to become a "King of Tomb Raiders" like my brother someday, achieving my own dream.

What will the tycoon discuss with Tengjia? Since Tengjia is omniscient and omnipotent, could he possibly have a shortcut to breaking the "black magic"?

"Guan Baoling... Guan Baoling... Guan Baoling..." She has become a knot in my heart, the kind that hurts me at the slightest touch.

“Mr. Feng, this is medicine to stop the bleeding…” Helen held a glass bottle the size of an olive in her palm and showed it to me from a distance.

I forced a lighthearted smile and said, "No need. I've heard that the scar left by the 'serrated bullet' looks like an artificially tattooed centipede. Thank you for your generous gift, Miss Helen. I will definitely repay you in some way someday." I may not be able to compare myself to a tycoon, but at least I can compete with him in terms of backbone. No matter how much I bleed, I will never accept his charity.

"Haha, good, it's not a bad thing for a young person to have backbone, but if they just keep acting tough, then it becomes foolish!" Helen put away the medicine bottle, the handcuffs beside her glaring at me through gritted teeth—breaking his shoulder blade could potentially cost him his job for life, but in the head-on clash just now, the force of her attack was completely out of control. If I didn't hurt him, I would definitely be injured by his curved blade; weighing the pros and cons, I could only prioritize my own safety.

This is the world of martial arts. If you don't want to be hurt by wild beasts, the best way is to become a wild beast yourself first.

My shirt was soaked through, and sticky blood seeped over my belt and spread down my trousers. I tried to use my internal energy to suppress the bleeding from the wound, but it only made things worse.

“Mr. Feng, I think those two ‘Extreme Fire Pills’ would be beneficial to your injuries. Why not give them a try?” It was Master Shenbi’s voice. He mingled among the monks, avoiding Helen’s wary gaze. Fengge Temple did not want to openly challenge the tycoon’s authority; they dared not and could not afford to provoke him.

The bag containing the "Extreme Fire Pills" has always been in my pocket. I don't have high hopes for their efficacy, since most miraculous medicines that can bring the dead back to life only exist in myths and legends.

I untied the ribbon on the bag, revealing two round balls wrapped in layers of milky-white waxed paper. Peeling back the layers, I found only an ordinary, dark red pill, emitting a faint lotus fragrance, about the size of a quail egg. Since Bumenlu had entrusted it to me so carefully, and the three monks—Elephant, Lion, and Tiger—had fought tooth and nail to seize it, it must be valuable. Whether it helps my injuries or not, I'll treat it as a last resort for now.

I broke the pill in half and swallowed it down in large gulps, amidst Helen's slightly surprised and mocking expression.

The fragrance of lotus blossoms instantly filled all my senses. A wave of intense coolness slid down my throat, reaching my chest at the Tanzhong acupoint, then dissipating into countless subtle, cool threads that spread throughout my eight extraordinary meridians. The coolness was particularly noticeable as it reached the wound on my shoulder; the burning pain vanished immediately, and within minutes, the wound stopped bleeding.

Helen stared at me from afar, a disdainful sneer on her lips, perhaps thinking I was just putting on an act.

Everyone present lost track of time, all staring at the tightly closed hatch. I heard my stomach rumbling; I'd missed breakfast and lunch, the sun was setting, and soon it would be dinner time again.

This tense and chaotic battle eventually turned into a silent stalemate, with the outcome to be determined only when the tycoon reappears and opens that hatch.

Wang Jiangnan, Huo Ke, and Zhang Baisen have always stood together. I am not clear about the relationship between the three of them and their respective positions, or whether they are as close and stable as their positions.

Since ancient times, the righteous and the wicked have not been able to walk the same path. Zhang Baisen, a semi-official figure, openly appeared in a gangland brawl, which is a major taboo for the authorities. This time, his clear stance, standing with the Shao brothers on the side of the Divine Gun Society, is quite unexpected. If this news gets out, it will likely cause another significant shock to the defense landscape of Asian countries.

The cabin door finally opened, and the tycoon stepped out first. He turned back and took Tengjia's arm, and the two of them stood side by side in front of the helicopter, receiving everyone's expectant gaze.

"It was an honor to meet the beautiful Princess Tengjia today, but unfortunately I am tied up with worldly affairs and cannot visit the temple. I entrust the matter of finding Miss Guan to you, please take good care of it."

The tycoon's friendly attitude was suspicious, but Fujika simply smiled and nodded without saying a word. It was clear that their conversation was going well, and Fujika had successfully persuaded the tycoon, defusing the tense atmosphere that could have easily ignited.

I breathed a sigh of relief; at least Wang Jiangnan's arm was saved, and the Sharpshooter Association wouldn't lose face.

The men in black and the monks from Fengge Temple lowered their guns. In the entire scene, only the handcuffs, who were gritting their teeth, and Hawke, who was filled with jealousy, remained vigilant. The handcuffs, in particular, kept glancing at me like a venomous snake seeking an opening.

"Hey, Feng, could you come over here for a second?" The tycoon turned around and waved to me, a gentle and magnanimous smile on his face.

All eyes immediately shifted from the tycoon to me. I paused for a moment, then strode over. As I passed the handcuffs, I deliberately shrugged and gave him a cold smile.

Handcuffs is no good guy; people from both righteous and evil factions have died at his hands. To date, the number of documented deaths he has caused is probably in the hundreds, all of them highly skilled martial artists who have weathered many storms and crossed great rivers. If today's battle completely cripples his martial arts, I believe he will probably not have a chance to leave Japan alive.

Helen's attitude changed swiftly, and she smiled sweetly in a low voice, "Mr. Feng, I've offended you. The flood has washed away the Dragon King's temple."

Fortunately, I had the "Extreme Fire Pill" to counteract the lethality of the "serrated cutting bullets," otherwise, even if she were willing to show me kindness, I would have already lost too much blood and passed out.

The fifth film, Sea Horror

— Chapter 6 — A Thousand-Year-Old Spiritual Disciple Under Jianzhen's Sect —

When I got five steps in front of the tycoon, I could feel the immense aura emanating from his body, like a giant reef in the ocean that has stood firm for thousands of years and is strong enough to withstand the impact and erosion of any tide.

He extended his clean hand to me, without a watch or ring, and without any vulgarity or ostentation.

If it weren't for the conflict stemming from the Bao Ling incident, I believe I would have shown the respect due to a junior member of the underworld whenever I met the tycoon in any other setting. Since his debut, the tycoon has undertaken many ambitious and large-scale business ventures, and has also been involved in smuggling arms and trafficking drugs in the shadows. However, he has now moved beyond the initial stage of accumulating wealth and stands high above the rest, looking down upon the world. His current status truly deserves the respect of the world.

I extended my hand without being humble or arrogant, and shook hands with him.

“Feng, Scalpel recommended you to me. Start working for me today. The Asia region is short of a Business Executive President, that position—” He paused, and Helen immediately and understandingly continued, “Yes, Mr. Feng’s qualifications are more than sufficient, and I suggest that after a few months of trial and evaluation, Mr. Feng be promoted to Chief Executive Officer of the Asia region—”

That was an unattainable position. Even for seasoned professional managers, there was absolutely no chance of rising to the top in one step and becoming an important part of a tycoon's business empire, let alone me.

I smiled and said, "Thank you, Mr. Ye, but I am used to being lazy and I am afraid that it would ruin your company's image. I am afraid I cannot comply."

For him to hire me in front of so many people was already a huge honor, enough to make others green with envy. But I refused without hesitation—I wanted to be the "King of Tomb Raiders" admired by millions, not a pawn or a weed under a tycoon's control.

The tycoon raised his chin and looked into my eyes: "Hmm? You're not willing? This... is putting me in a bit of a bind!"

When his eyebrows twitched upwards and his eyes widened, two deep, narrow wrinkles appeared on either side of his nose, extending from the bridge of his nose all the way to his chin. This type of wrinkle is called the "power and killing wrinkle" by fortune tellers. People with this wrinkle are said to be unfathomably scheming and ruthless, cold-blooded and merciless.

"Yes, thank you for your concern, but I have my own things to do."

Refusing the tycoon's invitation was tantamount to rejecting a golden opportunity to step into the ranks of millionaires, but I didn't think there was anything good about being his subordinate, and the legacy left by the scalpel was enough for Suren and me to squander for a lifetime.

"Haha, hahaha..." The tycoon clapped his hands and laughed, his eyes shifting between light and shadow.