In a secluded luxury club, dim lights reflected off polished marble floors, while wall-mounted crystal chandeliers cast a warm, star-like glow. At the center was a mist-covered hot spring pool, surrounded by golden lounge chairs with velvet cushions and silk pillows. The air was filled with the exotic scent of tropical flowers, creating a dreamy paradise.
In the center of the hot spring pool floated a wooden tray with fresh fruits, champagne, and drinks, drifting with the water's ripples. Across from the pool, a bamboo grove swayed, its lanterns casting a soft glow on the stream below, where golden koi swam lazily. The peaceful sounds of water and wind made it feel as though time stood still.
A man with a muscular physique, his body sculpted with sharp, defined lines, rose from the hot spring. His skin was covered in multicolored tattoos, leaving almost no bare flesh exposed. The most striking tattoo was of a fierce bull's head on his back, its sharp horns seemingly ready to pierce through his skin. With a hairy hand, he grabbed a big whiskey glass from the tray and downed it roughly, the liquid spilling over his lips and splashing into the spring, creating ripples in the water.
The boss glanced at the tattooed man and felt irritated. When he first saw the tattoo, he had considered getting one himself, thinking it looked quite fierce. But when the muscle man excitedly asked him,"Boss, are you a Taurus too?" the boss's enthusiasm quickly faded. He coldly glared at the man, secretly pondering a more imposing nickname for himself. How could he let this brute steal the spotlight?
Nick of the Broken Blade took a hefty swig of whiskey, crunching on the ice cubes. His eyes suddenly turned sly and sinister.
"Boss, I've heard rumors about some black spores appearing in certain areas. They can cause mutations in people. Some have seen zombies, others strange creatures. What's going on?"
The boss's train of thought was interrupted, and he momentarily forgot what he was thinking about. He patted his head, sighing inwardly about the passage of time. Three hundred years had passed, and he had become an old man.
"Well done, Nick. Even your thick skull noticed something's wrong. I sense a third party's influence behind this. District 19 is studying the spores, trying to use them. But their vision is limited. They can't see the hidden hand at play. Someone is competing with us for control over humanity!
We exploit human greed and shortsightedness to bend them to our will. But these people are using biology to control humans directly. Technology is advancing at a breakneck pace! I can't even use my grandson's high-tech gadgets anymore! Are we getting old?"
"Boss, you'll never grow old!" Nick immediately flattered, a work survival tactic.
The boss glanced at him."What about your task of finding the legendary relics? With them, absolute power will make any technology seem like a joke!"
"Another drink, boss?" Nick tried to change the subject. The boss sighed in exasperation. This guy never paid attention to the plans he had been working on for so long.
The boss sighed, irritated. This guy never paid attention to the important stuff. For centuries, the boss had been searching for the missing relics—two sacred objects left by the Buddha before Nirvana, meant to guide humanity out of suffering. But they were still lost in mystery.
Meanwhile, Lady Gong emerged from the hot spring, her body half-submerged. The eldest daughter of the Gong family, she was an enigma. Her piercing, eagle-like eyes swept the room, exuding a cold, predatory vibe that made everyone else shiver.
She let her long green hair cascade down as she casually lit a cigarette from a nearby tray.
"Boss, I've locked onto a suspicious target," Lady Gong sneered, her sharp gaze flicking toward the muscular man beside her."I suggest sending my man to bring him in."
Nick, his pride stung, leaned forward, lowering his voice with a frown."Why can't I do it? We're the action blade, after all."
Lady Gong's lips curled into a mocking smile as she blew out a ring of smoke."Brute!" she taunted."Don't forget how many times your guys have failed the mission!"
Nick seethed, his anger rising, but he knew better than to act on it. His previous attempts had shown him just how quickly things could go south if he let his emotions take control.
The boss, clearly losing patience with their back-and-forth, raised a hand."Enough!" he snapped, silencing them both."Gong, he's yours. The best way is to seal him alive, ensuring he never awakens."
Nick, always looking for an opening to shift things in his favor, spoke up."What if she fails?" He turned toward the boss, trying to plant doubt about Lady Gong's ability, hoping to lower her standing in the boss's eyes.
Lady Gong's eyes gleamed with amusement as she cut him off."If that's true, it might be even more fun," she mused, her voice dripping with mischief."Catching him would be easy. Watching him fail... now that's interesting."
Nick glared at her, his face reddening with frustration. He wanted to snap, but years of experience had taught him to hold back. He had learned the hard way that getting on Lady Gong's bad side was never a wise move.
The boss, his patience stretched thin by the constant bickering, sighed heavily."Enough!" He rubbed his temples before nodding toward Lady Gong."Gong, he's yours. Seal him alive. We can't risk him awakening."
With that, the boss stood, clearly fed up with the exchange. His gaze drifted toward the bar, where he could escape the tension for a moment. As he walked away, Nick, under Lady Gong's subtle influence, began to move awkwardly toward her. She had him wrapped around her finger, and he didn't even seem to realize it. He started to perform an uncoordinated, seductive dance, much to everyone's shock.
A wave of disgust stirred within you as you watched the grotesque display unfold, but you couldn't look away. It was as if the scene was pulling you in against your will. Unless, of course, you drank enough to forget it all.
Beneath the moonlight's soft glow, a solitary high-rise apartment building stood in the city center, like a slumbering giant, coldly overlooking the urban clamor. The night wind gently brushed by, carrying a hint of chill, and the shadows of trees swayed on the ground, casting an eerie atmosphere.
A burly masked man silently emerged from the street corner. His steps were as agile as a leopard's, his gaze as sharp as an eagle's, moving through the night without a sound. Dressed in a tight black combat suit, he almost blended into the surrounding darkness. He briefly glanced at the towering silhouette of the apartment building, then quickened his pace, swiftly approaching the escape ladder at the back.
It seemed he had prepared for this, scaling to the 15th floor of the apartment in a few leaps. His breathing was steady and rhythmic, each exertion precise. Upon reaching the target floor, he took a deep breath, lightly pressed his palm on the railing, and with a slight effort, leaped over the obstacle. His movements were as light as a swallow, yet carried a certain cold determination.
At the window, he pulled out his beloved tactical knife. Carefully, he inserted the blade into the window seam, attempting to pry the lock. But no matter how hard he tried, the window remained as steadfast as a seasoned soldier. Ten minutes passed, and the blade had bent into a mini sickle. The man sighed,"Cheap stuff is never good." He removed his mask, wrapped his fist in cloth, and smashed the glass. The sound of shattering glass was crisp and pleasant, as if mocking him.
"The old ways still work!" he cursed himself, carefully opened the window, and lightly leaped inside. The surroundings remained deathly silent; the city's residents were evidently used to nighttime surprises, as even the lights of a nearby house quietly went out. He crouched by the window, listening for a few seconds, and after confirming no one had noticed, finally exhaled a long breath, silently thinking,"Everyone's so indifferent, makes my job easier."
He relaxed slightly and began searching the room. His target was clear: a document said to be hidden here. The desk drawers were quickly searched, but yielded nothing. Just as he frowned slightly, his gaze fell on a safe embedded in the wardrobe wall. At that moment, a glint of excitement flashed in his eyes.
He found an empty glass in the room, carefully placed it on the safe door, pressed his ear to the bottom of the glass, and tried to turn the safe's lock. But each gentle turn resulted in disappointing silence. All he could hear was his heartbeat and the occasional growl of his stomach. He sighed, switched to the knife, and tried to pry the lock. Five minutes later, the safe remained intact, and his knife was completely ruined.
"Damn it, can't be cheap anymore!" He pulled out a hammer from his waist, weighed it, and couldn't help but mutter,"After this mission, I'll definitely buy that $288 hammer, it's cool on my waist!" Then, he gripped the hammer handle, took a deep breath, and began to hammer away.
Each strike carried a certain brutal ritual, the sound of impact echoing in the room, making one feel the pain. Finally, the safe's lock, along with part of the door, caved in. However, the hammerhead also got stuck in the safe, and the handle helplessly flew to the corner.
"Damn hammer! Cheap hammer's gonna kill me!" he cursed a hundred times, leaned close to the safe, and carefully opened the door. Inside lay a yellowed piece of paper, densely covered with words and numbers. He glanced at it, feeling a surge of excitement,"Finally found it! Boss is gonna give me a bonus tonight."
After solemnly stuffing the document into his bag, he scanned the safe once more. Suddenly, he noticed that the bottom shelf seemed deformed from the hammering, revealing a deep crevice. He leaned in, his thick eyebrows and big eyes looking comically exaggerated under the flashlight. When he saw the depths of the crevice, his eyes lit up, and a smile spread across his face,"Hehe, looks like there's something good in there!"