The Club's Crisis
The club was in chaos. Ben sprinted down from the second floor, yelling nervously, "Level the boss! Block the gates and all exits. Everyone's scattered!"
More than 20 of his men instinctively formed a protective circle, revealing machine guns concealed under their windbreakers. Their cold, intimidating gazes scanned the area as they stood ready, weapons blatantly hanging by their sides.
"You're all cut off! Do you even know what it feels like to abandon the boss at a time like this?"
"No problem. I can hold on. When will Mike get here?" Charlie Lee's voice was weak, but his face remained surprisingly composed.
The driver pressing a handkerchief against his chest wound failed to notice that the handkerchief had stopped soaking up blood.
"He's already on the way," Ben answered somberly, grasping Charlie's hand tightly.
To anyone observing, Charlie's situation seemed dire. A gunshot wound to the chest left little chance for survival.
Yet, amid the pain, Charlie felt a strange sense of satisfaction. The timing of the shot was, ironically, perfect. Such an incident would deter anyone who dared challenge him again.
"I'm dying, and you're still staring at me? Tell me—did you send the shooter?" Charlie's sudden outburst was filled with fury.
This outburst wasn't unfounded. Anyone facing death would likely lash out in manic frustration. His reaction was both believable and necessary. Remaining silent might have invited suspicion about his priorities or intentions.
"Seventeen years old… it's such a young, fiery age," Charlie thought to himself with a smirk. "Hehe, it was a good shot." A mixture of pain and excitement coursed through him, and he couldn't help but hum a tune.
"Boss, don't move. Don't get too excited. Mike will be here any moment," Ben pleaded, his eyes filled with tears. Turning to the others, he roared, "Go find him! Now!"
Bang!
The front door suddenly burst open. The men surrounding the walls raised their weapons, ready to fire, but quickly lowered them when they recognized the intruder—Wang Dagou.
"I'm here. Move aside," Wang barked, pushing his way through the crowd with urgency.
"Dog, take me upstairs," Charlie commanded weakly.
Without hesitation, Wang Dagou stepped into the human barricade, scooped Charlie up in his arms, and ran up the stairs. Their eyes met briefly, and with a simple blink from Charlie, Wang understood what needed to be done.
"Everyone except Mike stays outside," Wang ordered as he carried Charlie into a room. After gently placing him on the bed, he turned to Mike, who had been impatiently waiting, and shut the door firmly behind them.
"Did you catch the shooter?" Wang asked the men standing guard outside, his massive frame looming over them like a gatekeeper.
"Instructor Andre is on it," one of them replied.
"George and Hans are en route. Monk and Sammy will assist in the search. Call Grant and have him lock down Chicago. If they can't do it, we will," Wang growled, his voice laced with menace.
Wang's murderous intent was palpable, so much so that everyone instinctively averted their gazes, too intimidated to argue.
"Hill, get in touch with Lao Huang and inform Nuki about the boss's attack," Wang instructed, his tone sharp.
Behind him, Hill—Charlie's secretary—turned away from the group, shoulders trembling as she muffled her sobs.
"Secure all the corridors and rooms," Wang continued, his commanding presence leaving no room for questions.
Meanwhile, inside the room, Mike's eyes widened as he inspected Charlie's chest. The wound had already begun to heal, replaced by a vicious scar.
"Mike, my body is… different. Keep this a secret. Can you do that?" Charlie asked calmly, locking eyes with him.
"G-Got it," Mike stammered, swallowing hard. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Boss, I'll keep it secret. I swear."
"Good. I'll walk out of here in two hours. For now, just say I'm in a coma and haven't passed the critical period yet," Charlie instructed.
"Understood." Mike collected himself, putting his tools away before sitting on the sofa, lost in thought.
Moments later, he jumped up, retrieved the blood-soaked handkerchief and clothes from the trash can, and began meticulously wiping his surgical instruments with the bloody fabric.
He then laid out the scalpel and other tools on a belt, ensuring everything looked convincing. "Boss, I'll bandage you now."
After wrapping Charlie's chest in layers of gauze, Mike sprinkled alcohol around the room, letting the strong scent mingle with the faint smell of blood. Satisfied, he finally sat back down.
"Don't forget the shrapnel," Charlie reminded him, pointing to the deformed metal piece in the iron box.
Mike nodded, carefully preserving it as evidence. Before leaving, he triple-checked the room to ensure no suspicious items were left behind.
"How's the boss, Mike?" Ben rushed forward as soon as Mike stepped out, his clothes stained with blood and reeking of alcohol.
"The bullet's out, and the bleeding has stopped, but he's still critical. The boss is in a coma and mustn't be disturbed," Mike reported with a straight face. Yet, he couldn't suppress a faint smile, recalling what he'd witnessed inside.
"Alright, everyone, get back to work. Mike and I will stay here," Wang Dagou announced, stepping into the room.
"I want to see the boss," one of the men insisted nervously, eyeing Wang with suspicion.
Charlie Lee was childless and unmarried. The idea of someone close to him withholding access to the boss raised unsettling thoughts.
"Dog, let them in," Charlie's voice called weakly from inside.
Wang opened the door, allowing Ben and Aria, who had just returned, to step inside.
The room reeked of alcohol and blood. Charlie lay pale and motionless on the bed, his chest wrapped in bloodstained gauze. Nearby, surgical tools sat on the table, and discarded gauze filled the trash can.
In the small iron box, the deformed shrapnel floated in a light layer of alcohol, its bloody residue staining the liquid a faint pink.
Aria broke into tears at the sight of Charlie's lifeless form.
"Ben, proceed with the original plans. The boss's safety and the hunt for the shooter are under the Aegis Bureau's jurisdiction," Wang said firmly, knowing how crucial Ben's role was in managing Charlie's operations.
Ben nodded silently, retreating into his own thoughts as he left the room to resume his duties.
Back in the think tank, tensions ran high. Charlie's sudden shooting had thrown everyone into a state of unease.
Forcing himself to remain composed, Ben addressed the team: "The boss is out of danger and resting. I've spoken with him briefly, and all plans will proceed as scheduled. Burkede must deploy workers to all areas immediately, and McDonald's construction must speed up to meet our deadlines…"
His calm demeanor reassured the team, dispelling their fears.
Only Aria, still shaken by what she'd seen, sat silently, casting cautious glances at Ben.
Meanwhile, outside the club, a swarm of reporters gathered, flashing cameras and bombarding the guards with questions.
"Is Charlie Lee in critical condition?"
"Was this related to Luciano's death in New York?"
"Does Charlie Lee have a will? Is his fortune legitimate?"
The guards, unimpressed by the barrage, stood their ground, cold and unyielding.
Inside the club, order slowly returned. Charlie Lee, despite the storm surrounding him, continued to orchestrate his plans from the shadows, silently reminding everyone of his resilience.