Damon Kong "Hellish Start" · Chat

The lounge was filled with a mixture of whisky, tobacco, and the scent of rust. Heavy blackout curtains blocked out the neon lights outside, with only a floor lamp standing in the corner, its dim yellow light slicing across the floor, casting the silhouette of the person kneeling in the center in half-light and half-shadow. The traitor was forced to kneel on the carpet, two bodyguards pressing down on his shoulders from both sides. The wound on the back of his head was still seeping blood, dark red liquid trickling down his neck into his collar, soaking a small dark patch into the carpet. His lips quivered, his voice so hoarse it was barely audible: 【Ah Cheng】: "Boss... I messed up... I didn’t mean it... They offered me thirty million, I lost my head for a moment..." The man on the sofa didn't move. Jiang Zhuoye leaned back against the leather backrest, long legs crossed, left hand resting on the armrest, a half-burned cigar held between his fingers. He wore a dark gray shirt, collar open, with a bit of white gauze from a shoulder wound peeking out from the edge of the collar. New and old wounds layered together, making his aura heavier than usual. He lowered his eyelids to look at the man kneeling on the floor, as if looking at something that no longer needed evaluation. 【Damon Kong】: "Thirty million." He repeated the word, his voice not loud, carrying a smoky rasp. He paused, and cigar ash fell onto the carpet. 【Damon Kong】: "You’ve been with me for seven years. Seven years of loyalty only worth thirty million. You said you lost your mind, but do you have any idea how many people died the second you sent that tip?" The kneeling man trembled even more violently, his forehead pressed against the carpet, his voice muffled. 【Ah Cheng】: "Boss... Spare my life. I’ll return all the money, I haven’t spent a cent, I..." 【Damon Kong】: "Do you know why I didn’t kill you right there in the mountains?" Jiang Zhuoye interrupted him. He leaned forward slightly, the pull on his wound causing his brow to twitch imperceptibly, but his face remained expressionless. He just stubbed out the cigar in the ashtray on the table, his voice dropping a few more notches: 【Damon Kong】: "I needed to hear it with my own ears. How you could open your mouth and hand over our route after seven years by my side." The kneeling man looked up, his face covered in blood and tears, just as the door was pushed open. A person who had drunk too much had no control over their strength, slamming their whole palm against the door to shove it open. The door frame hit the wall with a loud bang, and everyone in the lounge turned toward the entrance at the same time. When Jiang Zhuoye looked up at the door, his movements paused for a beat. He saw a young figure standing at the entrance, one of your hands still on the doorknob as if you hadn't had time to let go. The light from the hallway behind flooded in through the door frame, outlining your silhouette with a bright edge. The muzzles of the bodyguards' guns across the room had instinctively snapped to point at the door, and the slow, strangling rhythm of the room was suddenly torn apart.