Upon hearing the laughter, Merlin gritted his teeth and turned around, only to see ten hitmen approaching with smug grins.
"Give it up. You're done for, and there's no escape for a scoundrel like you," one of them sneered, his tone indifferent and dismissive.
Before accepting this mission, they had studied Merlin's identity and background, which only fueled their disdain for him.
Merlin wasn't just involved in major crimes like corruption; he had also been involved with the young wives of high-ranking officials and wealthy businessmen.
Though their work as hitmen was also viewed as dishonorable, they still considered it more respectable than Merlin's life as a con artist.
Merlin could sense the contempt in their eyes, but he didn't care. To achieve power and wealth, one had to discard naive ideals, weaknesses, and self-pity. As harsh as it may seem, that's the reality of this world.
Don't mistake the high-ranking officials and wealthy businessmen he deceived for good people. In reality, they were just as evil as he was—if not worse.
The high-ranking officials had exploited the people's money for personal gain, while the wealthy businessmen were greedy capitalists, driven solely by profit, indifferent to the devastating consequences of their actions.
Because of this, Merlin never felt an ounce of guilt for deceiving them.
Merlin's tense, pale expression slowly returned to normal as he took a deep breath, calming himself. In situations like this, staying calm was crucial to keeping his mind clear. It was a principle he had followed for years, one that had helped him rise to his current position.
Once he regained his composure, he looked at them with cold indifference.
"I know you were hired by those people for a handsome sum," Merlin said, his tone casual. He crossed his arms and added carefully, "Here's my offer: I'll pay you twice what they gave you. In return, you set me free and let me live. How does that sound?"
As a con artist, Merlin had dealt with many people, including hitmen who loathed unnecessary pleasantries. These kinds of people valued money above all else, and Merlin was eighty percent sure they would agree.
"Oh? You're offering to pay us twice what they offered? Are you sure about that?" One of them raised an eyebrow, surprised by Merlin's offer, then smirked mockingly.
His comrades were equally taken aback, each wearing a playful expression, clearly underestimating his proposal.
Merlin, however, remained composed, unaffected by their taunts. He simply nodded casually and met their gazes with a cool, indifferent look.
"Yes, I'm certain. Just tell me how much they offered to kill me, and I'll double it," Merlin replied calmly.
The ten hitmen exchanged glances, their playful grins still in place.
"Twenty million dollars," one of them said, raising his index and middle fingers. He then continued in a dismissive tone, "That's what they've offered for your life. What do you think? Will you pay twice that?"
Twenty million dollars was an enormous sum, nearly impossible for anyone to afford except the truly wealthy; doubling that to forty million dollars was even more unfathomable.
Although Merlin had deceived many people and gathered a fortune, they were certain he couldn't possibly have that much.
"Twenty million dollars? I didn't expect them to actually spend that much on my life," Merlin said with a disdainful chuckle.
One of the hitmen smirked sarcastically, crossed his arms, and scoffed. "That's a huge sum, and you definitely can't afford twice that—"
Before he could finish, Merlin raised his index finger slightly and interrupted him.
"I can," he said confidently.
His words caused their smiles to falter, and they exchanged stunned glances.
"What did you say? You can afford it? You're not joking, are you?" One of them asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
Merlin's expression remained unfazed as he nodded slightly.
"Yes, I'm sure I can afford it, and I'm not joking," he replied with complete confidence, without the slightest hint of doubt.
Of course, he was lying—he didn't have anywhere near that much money. Despite deceiving countless corrupt officials and greedy businessmen, the wealth he had managed to gather barely totaled twenty-five million dollars.
Still, he was a con artist, and his goal in offering such a large sum was to deceive them. If they accepted, he'd find a way to escape the country and, at the same time, set his plan for revenge against those damned officials and businessmen into motion.
As the old saying goes, "It's not too late for a man to take his revenge after ten years."
Snapping out of his thoughts, Merlin noticed the hitmen were clearly swayed by his offer.
A cold smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but he quickly masked it and said, "So, what do you think of my offer? I'll really pay you the money."
He pulled out two gold cards from his white shirt pocket, holding them between his fingers and casually playing with them.
"These two cards contain twenty-five million dollars each—more than fifty million dollars in total. If you agree, the extra ten million will be a bonus," he added with a slight chuckle.
Merlin's voice was irresistibly tempting, like a devil luring mankind, leaving the ten hitmen frozen in place, drool dripping from the corners of their mouths.
"Fifty million dollars? I never imagined such an amount," one of them gasped, his heart racing with excitement.
If they got that money, they could retire from this dangerous, grueling job and finally build the families they had always dreamed of!
It wasn't just him; his comrades shared the same thought. Being a hitman was a brutal, life-threatening job—one wrong move, and they could end up as the victims instead.
Suddenly, one of them had a realization, and a sinister, thin smile crept across his face.
"Hehehe! Fifty million is a lot, but if we kill you, we could take it all, right? With the twenty million from our fee and the fifty million from those cards, that's seventy million dollars!" he exclaimed, laughing loudly.
His comrades were taken aback by the brilliance of the plan, their eyes now fixed on Merlin with hunger, like a pack of wolves eyeing a fat sheep.
Merlin was not surprised by the man's idea—he had anticipated it. Given their roles as hitmen motivated solely by money, it would have been odd if they hadn't considered this option.
Taking a slow breath, Merlin narrowed his eyes and calmly threatened, "Your plan is clever, but it won't work. I've set up a password known only to me. If I die, you'll have no access to the money."
The threat made the group hesitate. Several exchanged uncertain glances, but the man who had suggested the idea remained unfazed, his smile never faltering.
"In that case," he said coldly, his voice laced with killing intent, "we'll torture you until you reveal the password before we end your life."
Merlin's handsome face turned pale in an instant, his eyes locking onto the man with a hateful glare.
"This bastard is more ruthless than I thought," he cursed under his breath.
He realized then that negotiation was no longer an option—his fate was sealed: death.
"Hehehe! You'll never escape again," the man said coldly, taking slow steps forward.
His comrades followed suit, rubbing their palms eagerly.
Watching this, Merlin instinctively stepped back, only to find there was no ground beneath him. He glanced behind and saw a deep, dark gorge, the faint sound of flowing water echoing from below.
If he fell, even a fool would know he'd die. But if he stayed, they would catch him, and death would be inevitable.
"Damn... is this the end for me?" Merlin thought, sinking into despair. Just then, a soft, delicate voice echoed in his ears.
["Do you want to live?"]