Chapter 39: Do You Think All Gangsters Are Dead?
Dazone recalled everything he knew and spoke.
"A few years ago, Germain did some dirty work for a small-time boss under the 'Ten Dons'. But later, it seems he killed that boss over some financial dispute."
"The underlings of that small boss have been looking for him ever since, even offering a bounty. But no one ever managed to claim it, and the 'Ten Dons' didn't care about the life or death of such a minor figure."
"But about two months ago, word spread that Germain was suspected of being a member of the Phantom Troupe. The bounty suddenly increased, and more people started hunting him."
Light understood. He pondered for a moment, then asked the key question:
"Did our people ever join the hunt for Germain?"
Dazone bowed slightly, appearing shorter than his boss.
"Once, one of our men formed a team of four with members from other families to try it but they were all killed."
"Really?" Wright murmured thoughtfully, then said, "Dazone, pass down a discreet order: no one from our family is to take part in the hunt for Germain."
"Yes, sir," Dazone nodded immediately.
"Also, we didn't know it was him," Wright said seriously. "Tonight I had that argument with Shanzhi, and I didn't like where it went so I'm leaving Yorknew City."
Dazone looked at Wright with surprise, then quickly understood his boss's intent.
"Yes Shanzhi cursed you horribly and threatened you. You got angry and decided to leave Yorknew City."
"Exactly." Wright nodded. "From now on, whatever happens in Yorknew has nothing to do with us and definitely not with Nion."
"I understand."
At that moment, both Dazone and Wright thought of Nion's prophetic poem, and a chill ran down their spines.
Just then, Nion peeked out from the back seat, rubbing her sleepy eyes.
"Dad, can we go now? I want to sleep."
Wright smiled kindly and got into the back seat beside her.
"Sorry, Nion. We're changing our plans we'll take a private airship out of Yorknew City."
"Eh… Dad, you're breaking your promise again!" Nion pouted.
"I can't help it. It's urgent."
Dazone closed the car door and sat in the front passenger seat.
The rest of the guards entered the cars ahead and behind, forming a long, winding convoy that quickly moved toward the exit.
Meanwhile, Germain didn't hurry back to the Bechita Hotel he had booked earlier. Instead, he took a slow stroll along the wide riverbank.
The river looked like a dark silk ribbon, glimmering faintly under the moonlight.
As Germain enjoyed the quiet night, he noticed a few "rats" tailing him getting closer and closer.
He instantly understood their intent; he had spent more than half his time over the last two months dealing with stalkers like these.
Germain simply slowed his pace, waiting for the "rats" to catch up.
"Hey, hey, hey!" said Shanzhi, one hand in his pocket, the other rubbing his shiny bald head. He stepped in front of Germain and shouted,
"You you're Germain, right?"
"I am," Germain admitted calmly. He was already used to such confrontations. To save time, he added, "Only six of you. Planning to attack me?"
"What?" Shanzhi barked. "You think I'd be scared just because you killed some lowlife boss and joined that so-called Phantom Troupe?"
Five of Shanzhi's men drew their guns, forming a trumpet-shaped formation, all aiming at Germain.
"Kid, do you even know what a real gang is?" Shanzhi said smugly, hands still in his pockets.
"I'm a direct descendant of the 'Ten Dons,' the highest-ranking syndicate!
And the Phantom Troupe just because no one's found you yet, you dare call yourselves 'the most fearsome thieves in history'? Don't get cocky!"
Germain didn't reply. Silence was his best answer.
He knew how this would go the bald man would boast about his lineage, issue an ultimatum, and then attack.
If there were a "Skip" button nearby, Germain would've been pressing it non-stop.
Let's get this over with.
He manifested his butcher's saw out of thin air a trick that made Shanzhi and his men freeze in disbelief.
Just as Germain was about to act, a ringtone came from his sleeve.
He reached into his black hunter's cloak and pulled out his phone. The caller ID read: "Girl with Glasses."
"Hello?" Germain answered casually.
A calm female voice replied, "Hello, is this Germain? It's Skizuku."
"It's me."
"Oh, good."
Germain, who had just drawn a bizarre butcher's saw, now calmly took a phone call right in front of Shanzhi and his men as if nothing had happened.
Shanzhi and the others were instantly overwhelmed with humiliation.
"Do you think we're all dead?!"
"Damn you! You dare look down on us!" Shanzhi's face turned red with rage. He pulled the trigger and screamed, "Go to hell!"
His men followed suit, firing in unison. At such close range, with that many bullets, Germain's death should've been certain.
But Germain was gone.
The bullets struck only the pavement, some ricocheting and hitting their own allies.
"What the ?" Shanzhi stammered in disbelief. "Where is he?"
A gust of wind brushed past him and something rolled to the ground, splattering his face with warm blood.
He glanced sideways and saw Germain standing beside one of his men.
That man's body had been reduced to a headless corpse, blood spurting wildly from the neck.
"Have you thought it through?" Germain asked, shaking the blood off his saw while still holding the phone. He dropped the body.
"Mmm… yeah, I understand."
Shanzhi and his remaining men, their hair standing on end, opened fire again, not caring about aim or friendly fire.
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Germain deflected some bullets with his saw, then vanished like a ghost. When he reappeared, one man's arm was gone and another had been sliced clean in half.
Screams filled the night. Only two of Shanzhi's men were left.
Germain was still on the phone. "Can't hear me well? Yeah, there was some gunfire nearby… Okay, see you at the spot. I'm heading there now."
Shanzhi was utterly crushed.
He had emptied his gun and hadn't even scratched Germain. Meanwhile, Germain butchered another of his men barehanded.
The last subordinate dropped to his knees, begging for mercy, glancing toward Shanzhi for help
But Germain slit his abdomen open, and his intestines spilled out like cargo tumbling from a cart.
The man tried desperately to stuff them back in but failed, collapsing with a look of sorrow frozen on his face.
(End of Chapter)