Iron Bull taucht wieder auf

Kapitel 117

Guan Baoling's image resurfaced in my mind. This time, I really wanted to see what brilliant plan the tycoon could come up with to find Guan Baoling and his most cherished beauty.

It seemed that all the monks in Fengge Temple had crowded into the long corridor. For them, Tengjia's awakening was like a god being reborn. Over there, there were screams and chanting sounds like ghosts howling and wolves howling, one wave higher than the next, which made Xiao Lai keep craning his neck to look.

A strange smell of burning incense filled the air. Xiao Lai laughed, "What? Do these monks have something important to celebrate? Why are they burning incense in broad daylight?"

I replied casually, "Miss Fujika has been resurrected, of course we should celebrate properly."

Xiao Lai jumped up with a cry of "Ah!" The magazine and bullets in her hand clattered to the ground. "What? Mr. Feng, you...you are really...so great! You really woke her up...No wonder those articles and reports praised you so much! I believe it now, I believe it one hundred percent!"

He stared at me with the astonishment of someone looking at a three-headed, six-armed alien.

Nothing is impossible in this world. For example, when I first heard Yeran utter the incantation, I was so angry I almost vomited blood. I thought that a simple Egyptian phrase couldn't possibly be the key to reviving Tenga, and the "Gemini Killers" had also tried it, to no avail. But now? After a series of chaotic misunderstandings, coincidences, and battles, the centenarian monk Bumenlu committed suicide by self-immolation, and Tenga was indeed awakened... The world changes in an instant. In fact, we don't need to constantly ask why; we just need to accept the established facts with a humble heart.

A few minutes later, the sounds of bells, drums, and cymbals rang out from the other side of the corridor. The monks seemed determined to hold a large-scale Buddhist and Taoist ritual there, and Tengjia couldn't come over for the time being.

I pounded on the cold stone wall, a persistent question lingering in my mind: "Did Guan Baoling really disappear here?" When I stared at the ground again, the idea that "there's someone under the tower" seemed utterly absurd and gave me a headache. If Guan Baoling really was hiding under the tower, wouldn't she drown if those mysterious waters started seeping out again, since she wasn't a fish or aquatic creature?

Xiao Lai packed up his weapons, glanced at his watch, and said with a hint of nervousness, "Mr. Wang and the others will be here soon. The tycoon wants them to wait in front of the temple gate."

The tycoon was not only rich but also powerful, with a large number of people and friends supporting him in both the legal and illegal worlds. There's no need to reiterate the smaller factions; there are reliable sources in the United States claiming that he and former US Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld have been on friendly terms for a long time, and that Rumsfeld's appointment as Secretary of Defense was even thanks to the tycoon.

Even before the Gulf War, the tycoon maintained close ties with the U.S. presidential office, and three consecutive presidents were guests at his New York mansion... It was because of this that he looked down on everything in the Chinese world and disregarded any Chinese community.

As a member of the Divine Gun Society, Xiao Lai's decision to come out with me alone on business is tantamount to "betraying the gang" and violates the rules of the martial arts world.

I understood his nervousness and patted him on the shoulder to comfort him: "Don't worry, I will explain the situation to Mr. Sun. With your work ability, you will definitely have the opportunity to be promoted to head of a local branch."

Given time, Xiao Lai's adaptability will definitely surpass Wang Jiangnan's. This world belongs to the young; those who haven't achieved great things by the age of thirty-five should have already given up and retreated.

Xiao Lai sighed, "Thank you, Mr. Feng. However, my wish is to be like you, a free and unrestrained lone wolf, not subject to any faction or group, roaming the world and making my own way..." He admires me a lot. It seems that the article written by the boastful ghostwriter hired by Tina is quite effective and has a strong power to bewitch people.

I shook my head, finding Xiao Lai's blind worship amusing. If my current reputation is enough for young people to admire and worship, then wouldn't my elder brother Yang Tian have been revered by everyone back then?

Xiao Lai and I walked side by side out of the temple. As we passed the "Well of Spirits," I subconsciously stopped beside the well platform and turned to Xiao Lai: "Has anyone recently gone diving to explore this place?"

Since 1998, the Japanese government has officially prohibited private individuals from exploring the secrets of the "Well of Spirits," and anyone found doing so will be prosecuted for "endangering national security" and severely punished. This ban, from another perspective, illustrates the foolishness of the Japanese in trying to cover up their true intentions.

Xiao Lai shook his head: "No, the existing description of the underground situation is still a detailed report of 50,000 words written by the Indian H. N. N. in the spring of 1997. But as you know, that report is less scientific data and more a lyrical essay with mythological imagination. It was dismissed as nonsense by all scientists."

Xiao Lai's mood improved noticeably when the topic came up.

He Nanning's absurd report eventually became a laughing stock in the global archaeological and tomb raiding community. After submitting the 50,000-word report, he suddenly disappeared, becoming a somewhat mysterious ending to the exploration of the "Well of Spirits" incident.

The Indian government issued a public statement refuting the rumors, saying that Hennan suffered from severe paranoia, intermittent amnesia, and severe somnambulism, and that all his academic articles were utterly absurd rumors. The Indian government apologized to the Japanese people for these misleading statements that disrupted the normal lives of people around the world.

The disappearance of He Nanning later evolved into dozens of hilarious versions. The funniest one is that he was hired by a Hollywood film company to be Spielberg's assistant screenwriter because the series of lies he fabricated were enough to make even the most talented screenwriters in Hollywood pale in comparison.

Xiao Lai and I burst into laughter at the same time. Just then, the sharp sound of screeching brakes suddenly rang out outside the temple gate, and it wasn't just one car, but at least twenty.

Xiao Lai was taken aback: "Huh? So many cars? That's impossible, isn't it? Our Sharpshooter Society couldn't possibly have so many people arriving so quickly?"

He rushed out of the moon gate first, leaving me alone to guard the rippling "Well of Spirits." The well water was crystal clear, like a huge, transparent crystal, so clear that even a person's reflection could not be seen.

I've read He Nanning's underwater exploration report at least four times, and I can even recount some of the bizarre and funny parts verbatim. The diving equipment he used came from Wellingwell Brothers in Scotland; it was a professional diving system worth $110,000, from the mask to the fins, from the oxygen mouthpiece to the face mask... every detail was 100% professional.

He was very wealthy, and this inexhaustible wealth came from shipwreck salvage and underwater tomb raiding. His public identity was that of an Indian marine salvage company, but his true identity was that of a lone-wolf "tomb raider." His reputation in the tomb raiding world far surpassed his reputation in marine salvage, and his achievements were absolutely proportional to his fame.

"With the help of tools, I can become an all-powerful fish." This is his famous saying, and it is indeed true. In the field of underwater tomb raiding, he is an absolute pioneer with no one to his name.

The report stated that he dived 170 meters into the "Well of Spirits," after which he suddenly lost radio contact with his assistant waiting at the well. Four hours passed—the limit of the time his compressed oxygen supply could sustain him—before he finally surfaced again.

"There's another world in the well, strange spacecraft wreckage, incredibly advanced weapon systems..." The words of his two Scottish diving assistants were enough to demonstrate how confused Hennan's mind was at the time. Anything could exist underwater, but that was just a plot device in mythology. This was late 20th-century Earth, technologically advanced; no one would believe his nonsense—"Mr. Feng..." Xiao Lai's low call rang out from the temple gate. He had already tiptoed back, looking flustered, holding a pistol in each hand, but his hands were trembling uncontrollably.

“There are a lot of people outside, but they’re not… from our Sharpshooter Society. Should we avoid them?” The safety on his pistol was already off, but in his current state, he had already lost before the battle even started, and the gun had become a burden.

I temporarily recalled the fragments of memory about He Nanning, walked closer to the entrance, and peered out through the temple gate.

Below the steps outside the door, two rows of black Buick minivans were parked neatly, all with their rear doors raised high, revealing the dark muzzles of their rapid-fire machines. I could clearly see the heavy, golden bullet belts hanging beside the magazines, all filled with seven-centimeter-long, copper-tipped armor-piercing rounds, enough to penetrate the armor of low-end tanks and vehicles.

Next to each car stood six young men in black suits, their hair neatly combed, their hands hanging at their sides, chests out, heads held high, eyes fixed ahead.

The two rows of cars were arranged separately on the left and right, leaving only the middle of the road open. One hundred and twenty young people stood motionless in the sunlight, like clay or wooden statues.

“Mr. Feng, they’re not from the Yamaguchi-gumi—these are all unfamiliar faces; they must be… the tycoon’s men…”

Xiao Lai's confidence completely vanished. The tycoon hadn't even shown his face yet, but the sheer scale of the display was enough to be awe-inspiring. The men in black outside all had prominent bulges on their lower backs, undoubtedly concealing large-caliber pistols, and exuded an endless aura of killing intent.

Before Wang Jiangnan and the others even arrived, the "Feast at Hongmen" had already been prepared.

I didn't want to hide, nor was there any need to. The one who should truly be hiding far away, trembling with fear, was Wang Jiangnan, who had messed with the tycoon's woman. I was even waiting with a sense of schadenfreude for the Sharpshooter Gang to appear, because this time Wang Jiangnan was truly going to lose face completely… Xiao Lai had been following me closely, his body trembling with tension. His phone rang at this crucial moment, its sound unusually loud in the otherwise silent temple gates. However, the men in black outside didn't even glance this way, as if whatever was happening inside had absolutely nothing to do with them.

"It's a call from Brother Thirteen..." Xiao Lai answered the phone with a bitter face, as if he were holding a hot potato.

I heard Wang Jiangnan's voice, filled with despair: "Xiao Lai, have the enemy's forces already reached the temple gate?"

To get to Fengge Temple, one must pass through the three-way intersection south of Xunfu Garden. The lookout on guard duty must have reported this to Wang Jiangnan beforehand.

"Yes, we've arrived. Twenty vehicles, one hundred and twenty men, each vehicle equipped with an American rapid-fire machine gun. Things are getting a bit bad..." Xiao Lai stammered, but still managed to report the enemy's situation with practiced ease.

Wang Jiangnan let out a long sigh. Even through the wireless signal, I could imagine the gloomy look on his face, and I felt an extreme sense of satisfaction: "The arrogant Mr. Wang has finally met his match! Where did his fawning attitude towards Guan Baoling go?"

"Xiao Lai, is Mr. Feng here? Could you ask him to answer the phone?"

Xiao Lai hesitated before handing me the phone. With the arrogance of a victor, I took the phone and gave a curt "hmm."

Wang Jiangnan was breathing heavily on the other end of the microphone, but he still had to force a smile: "Is this Mr. Feng? I have a favor to ask of you. If... if anything happens to me today, please be sure to track down Miss Guan and find her."

I calmly replied, "Okay, she was a guest of Xunfuyuan, and I have a responsibility to find her so that I can give the tycoon an explanation."

Wang Jiangnan gave a bitter smile: "The tycoon doesn't need explanations, he only wants a result that satisfies him... Heh, his ruthlessness... only those who have been in the underworld for a long time know. But this matter is too strange. I won't be at peace even if I die if I can't find Miss Guan..."

A car horn sounded through the microphone; he must be in a car heading this way.

I could only remain silent. I knew from the start that the tycoon's women were not to be touched; anyone who dared to have any improper thoughts was simply courting death. Given Wang Jiangnan's actions, even without Guan Baoling's mysterious disappearance, he would have encountered other troubles. It's too late for regrets now; he can only hope that his luck will allow him to get past the tycoon.

"Feng, I'm entrusting everything to you. I've thoroughly studied all your records from the Egyptian tombs. We could have been good friends and partners, exploring the secrets of the 'Underwater Tomb' together. It's a pity... a pity..."

I sneered inwardly: "If it weren't for the tycoon's massive campaign, would you even consider a nobody like me a threat?"

Wang Jiangnan coughed lightly, and I heard Hawke's voice: "Thirteenth Brother, are you alright? Mr. Sun Long is contacting the tycoon. This is just a misunderstanding. As long as they clarify things, everything will be fine!"

These once-renowned members of the Divine Sharpshooter Society were utterly helpless and powerless against a powerful figure like Daheng, completely at his mercy. I pity Wang Jiangnan even more than before when I saw him blinded by desire.

Wang Jiangnan's cough gradually worsened, suggesting that he hadn't slept well last night.

"Feng, in short, please. In my heart, Miss Guan is like a fairy from heaven, and I don't want to see her get hurt in any way..." Even at this moment, he still didn't forget to maintain his Casanova nature. Unfortunately, I am not Guan Baoling, and these words are a huge waste for me.

He hung up the phone, and at the end of the highway, the Sharpshooter's black car had already appeared.

Xiao Lai scratched his head, puzzled, and asked, "Mr. Feng, where did you say Miss Guan went? Why can't we find her? Although we didn't really dig three feet into the ground, we searched every nook and cranny, including all seventy-five Buddhist halls, monks' quarters, and living rooms, as well as the kitchen, woodshed, storeroom, and training room at the back of the temple—a total of one hundred and fifty rooms. To be honest, apart from Mr. Gu Ye's 'meditation hall,' we've searched every corner of Fengge Temple, but we haven't found anything—where could Miss Guan, a living person, have gone? Where could she be hiding?"

If I told him that Guan Baoling had entered the tower, I guarantee he would jump up in shock. Many things that seem like "strange news, wonders, or tales" to ordinary people actually exist in the world.

Three vehicles from the Sharpshooter Society arrived, carrying Wang Jiangnan, Hawke, Xiao Keleng, and Zhang Baisen. Following them were ten young men carrying submachine guns. Ten submachine guns were insignificant compared to the twenty rapid-fire machine guns under the tycoon's command, like mayflies trying to shake a tree. Yet, these ten men wore expressions of tragic resolve, as if they had come with the determination to die.

Xiao Lai kept sighing as he rechecked the pistol's magazine.

I patted him on the shoulder: "Xiao Lai, don't be impulsive later. This dispute will naturally be handled by Mr. Sun Long and the tycoon. It's not up to us brothers to blindly risk our lives."

Xiao Lai gritted his teeth, the muscles in his cheeks twitching incessantly: "Mr. Feng, that's true, but those people are my brothers and friends. What should I do if they are shot dead in front of me?"

When a submachine gun is used against a rapid-fire machine gun, the outcome is obvious: the fate of those ten men has been mercilessly chosen by death.

I only cared about Xiao Keleng. Watching her short hair being blown about wildly by the mountain wind, I couldn't help but take out my phone and dial her number: "Xiao, come into the temple. I'm over here at the 'Well of Spirits'."

If I were to have the ability to protect one person amidst a hail of bullets, it would definitely be her.

Xiao Keleng whispered a few words to Wang Jiangnan and walked towards the temple gate.

The man in black stood solemnly and imposingly, completely ignoring the members of the Divine Gun Society, as if they were nothing more than pitiful ants under the feet of a god, to be trampled and killed at will, not even considered as one of their own.

In modern warfare, the quality of firearms can determine at least 70% of the outcome of a battle. A comparison of equipment also reveals that the Sharpshooter Society in Japan was short-handed, meaning that the Sharpshooter Society did not consider Japan its primary target for occupation.

With enough money, one can buy any of the most advanced weapons in Japan, from high-rate-of-fire, high-precision pistols to rocket launchers that can easily destroy the armor of heavy tanks, from American M-series weapons suitable for urban warfare to the "God's Hand" 360-degree rotating machine guns used in positional warfare—even heavily armed Humvees, biological weapons… anything can be bought, and a formidable light assault team can be easily assembled in a day and night. But clearly, Wang Jiangnan and his men did nothing and were completely at the mercy of others.

This deliberate act of "showing weakness" makes me very confused about the Sharpshooter Association's emergency strategy.

Xiao Keleng strode into the temple gate, his face clouded with worry, not a trace of a smile in sight.

This trouble was entirely caused by Guan Baoling. If she hadn't appeared, everyone would probably be safe and sound, drinking tea and wine, living freely. Wang Jiangnan wouldn't have fallen for her, and he wouldn't be in this embarrassing situation of being attacked by the tycoon.

"Mr. Feng, how's the search going?" There were no pleasantries; all the conversation revolved around the current predicament.

I quickly shook my head. I couldn't make any irresponsible promises before Tengjia gave me a definite answer; that would only push things further into a worse situation. Besides, the tycoon hadn't appeared yet; there was no need to rush to reveal all our cards.

Xiao Ke stomped her feet three or four times, then gave a helpless bitter smile: "Well, this is terrible! Mr. Sun Long spoke with the tycoon on the phone, and... the tycoon pinned all the blame on Brother Thirteen and wanted to kill him, not giving the Divine Gun Society a chance to defend themselves. What to do? What to do? What to do..."

She asked three times, then sighed deeply and paced back and forth.

Xiao Lai shoved the magazine into the magazine with a "click" and muttered, "At worst, I'll fight to the death! I'll be a hero again in eighteen years!"

The word "risking one's life" is frequently on the lips of those in the martial arts world, as if stepping into this world means one's life is like a match that can be struck, burned out, or discarded at any moment. Risking one's life for friends, for money, for women... I looked sadly at Xiao Lai. If the 900 million young Chinese people around the world all come out to make their way in the martial arts world with this kind of "risking one's life" mentality, then China's future will be in grave danger.

The whirring sound of a helicopter rotor came from the southeast sky. All the men in black looked up in unison. It was an airplane painted with the United Nations logo and a bright bauhinia flag painted on its belly.

Xiao Keleng exclaimed in a low voice, "It's the tycoon's private jet! Everything... has finally come to a head!"

I let out a cold laugh: "It's not the 'revealing of the dagger' from Jing Ke's assassination attempt on the King of Qin! I think it should be a 'joint trial by three courts'..."

This is the world of martial arts. People in the martial arts world have their own rules. Those who carry out trials and hold the power of life and death are not white-clad judges with wigs, but powerful figures in the martial arts world who can command a huge following.

The creaking sound grew louder and louder as it slowly landed on the open ground in front of the temple gate. The wind stirred up by the propellers made everyone's clothes flutter.

Xiao Lai was so nervous that her teeth chattered, and she kept wiping the cold sweat from her palms onto her sleeve.

Xiao Ke sighed repeatedly, utterly at a loss for what to do. Only I remained, adopting a "wait and see" attitude, wondering how the sharpshooter would untangle this knot.

The propeller stopped, and a middle-aged man wearing a black tight-fitting leather jacket opened the hatch, jumped out, and pulled down the movable gangway.

The first person to board the gangway was a middle-aged woman in a smoky gray trench coat, with short blonde hair, wearing white-rimmed sunglasses, and an aloof and indifferent expression.

I've seen her picture. She's Helen, the tycoon's chief personal assistant who has been with him for eleven years. She's an exceptionally intelligent and shrewd woman of mixed Chinese and American heritage. Whenever the tycoon travels, she's always by his side, like his shadow.

The fifth film, Sea Horror

— Chapter 4 - Calamity —

4th Tribulation

They thought the tycoon would appear next, but the hatch unexpectedly closed slowly, meaning that only Helen and the man in the black leather jacket were present.

Helen wore matching charcoal gray leather gloves and charcoal gray boots, with a half-smoked cigarette between her right hands.

Wang Jiangnan walked towards the plane, his expression extremely awkward. In front of everyone, he had to swallow his pride and ask the tycoon for punishment, which was the most unbearable humiliation for a figure in the underworld.

“Mr. Wang? It’s best that you’ve come to meet Mr. Ye. I thank you on Mr. Ye’s behalf.” Helen spoke Mandarin clearly and rhythmically, but this was not a good sign, because the underworld magazine described her as—“a smile that hides a knife, a smile that kills, a smile that’s worse than a curse!”

Whoever she treats politely is often the one who is destined for complete misfortune.