Chapter 429: The Last Supper, This Bowl of Soup Burns the Throat |
The light and shadows on the massive screen suddenly shifted.
The oppressive caves and the despairing school all vanished without a trace.
On the screen was the square at the center of the stronghold, illuminated by a bonfire.
Gongs and drums thundered; the stench of alcohol pierced the sky.
Dozens of long tables were pieced together into a winding dragon, laden with large chunks of roasted meat and jars of strong liquor.
The drug dealers, embracing scantily clad women, brandished their rifles and fired wildly into the night sky for entertainment.
This scene was the epitome of extravagant revelry.
The camera panned toward the main seat.
Cha Cai, played by Lei Zhong, had changed into a brand-new Tang suit. With a ruddy complexion, he sat regally on a tiger-skin chair.
Behind him stood Jiang He, played by Jiang Ci.
Dressed in his signature black jacket, hands clasped behind his back, his body leaning forward,
He was in a posture ready to lash out in violence at any moment, or to take a bullet for someone.
In Hall Four, the very last row.
The leading veteran criminal investigator suddenly sat up straight,
Squinting, he nudged his comrade-in-arms with his elbow.
"Old Zhao, look at this kid's eyes."
His comrade-in-arms, upon hearing this, immediately focused on Jiang He's face.
On the massive screen, Jiang He was serving dishes to Cha Cai.
His movements were steady, utterly unwavering.
But every time he bent down, his pitch-black eyes swept rapidly across every corner of the banquet hall.
The load-bearing pillar on the left.
The blind spot by the window at two o'clock.
The cross-zone blind spots of the three roving guards on the periphery.
"He's looking for an assault point." Old Zhao's voice was very low, yet carried unmistakable admiration,
"That look is spot on. He's calculating the trajectory of bullets, even rehearsing the direction of the collapse after an explosion in his head."
"This isn't acting; this is a trained conditioned reflex."
On the screen, Cha Cai suddenly raised his glass and stood up.
The noisy square gradually quieted, with only the bonfire crackling.
"Brothers!"
Lei Zhong's voice was booming, carrying an air of the underworld,
"After all these years following me, everyone has worked hard!"
"Once we finish this job, we're calling it quits! I'll take you to the best territory in the Golden Triangle. We'll build the biggest mansions and marry the most beautiful women!"
"WOO——!!!"
The low-level dealers below erupted in cheers.
Only Jiang He stood still.
Standing behind Cha Cai, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.
His right hand silently moved toward his waist, where a fully loaded Glock was holstered.
As the speech ended, the wave of cheers subsided slightly.
Cha Cai did not sit down. Instead, he turned around, personally picked up the soup ladle,
And from the clay pot in front of him, he ladled out a full bowl of steaming chicken soup.
A thick layer of golden oil floated on top of the soup; it looked scalding hot.
"Ah He."
Holding the bowl, Cha Cai extended it toward Jiang He.
In close-up, Lei Zhong's fleshy, rough face displayed an extremely complex tenderness.
"You've had a hard time these past few years."
Lei Zhong pushed the bowl forward, "Drink this soup, and from now on, you and I are bound by life and death. Wherever your uncle goes, you go."
Everyone understood: this was no ordinary chicken soup.
This was the "last meal before execution" in underworld rules, also the final "pledge of allegiance."
Jiang Ci stared at that bowl of soup.
He didn't take it immediately.
His hand hung in midair, fingertips trembling slightly.
Under everyone's gaze, he slowly lifted his head, looking at Lei Zhong.
In those eyes flashed a moment of struggle, but it instantly transformed into fervor.
"Thank... you, Uncle."
Jiang He took the bowl.
Tilting his head back, he gulped down the scalding hot soup in large mouthfuls.
"Gulp, gulp."
His Adam's apple bobbed.
"Ha..."
He drained it in one go.
Jiang He slammed the empty bowl heavily on the table.
"Uncle... this soup... is truly warm."
Below the stage.
Chu Hong remembered.
Twenty years ago, it was the last time Jiang Yanjun left home.
It was also a night like this.
She had stewed a pot of chicken soup. Jiang Yanjun was in a hurry, without time to sit and drink it.
He stood at the door, holding that freshly ladled soup, downed it in one breath.
Back then, he had also said, "Truly warm."
That was the last sentence he left for this family.
On the screen.
Cha Cai looked at Jiang He's foolish, pained expression as he was scalded by the heat, and finally burst into loud laughter.
He reached out and heavily patted Jiang He on the back, completely dropping the last shred of caution in his heart.
"Good lad!"
Just as this tender moment of paternal affection and filial devotion unfolded.
"SWOO——!!!"
A piercing scream tore through the night sky.
Outside the window, a red flare streaked through the darkness, exploding violently above the stronghold.
The grim red light immediately bathed the entire banquet hall, making it look like a hell of Asura.
Then, next.
"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat——"
Intensive gunfire erupted from all directions—the signal of the SWAT team's assault!
Chaos struck suddenly!
The banquet hall descended into utter pandemonium; tables overturned, bottles shattered.
The smile froze on Cha Cai's face, twisting into the ferocity of a man betrayed.
His reaction was lightning-fast. Instinctively, he reached for the golden pistol at his waist.
At the same time, Jiang He moved.
But he did not, as every audience member anticipated, simply draw his gun and shoot Cha Cai dead.
On the contrary.
"Uncle! Watch out!"
A guttural roar.
Jiang He kicked over the sturdy long table in front of him.
"Boom!"
The solid wood table fell sideways, forming a natural shield.
Jiang He dove, forcefully pressing the panicked Cha Cai down behind the cover,
Using his own body to shield the big drug lord.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Stray bullets pounded against the tabletop, sending splinters flying.
This scene left the ordinary audience in Hall Four utterly bewildered.
"What is he doing?" the young girl in the front row stamped her feet anxiously,
"Kill him! This is the best chance! Is he suffering from Stockholm Syndrome?!"
Old Zhao in the back row, staring at Jiang He's frighteningly calm eyes on the screen, explained in a low voice: "He's controlling the scene."
"If he kills the boss now, those desperados will become headless chickens, scattering in all directions."
"The stronghold's terrain is complex. Once they disperse into the forest, capturing them becomes ten times harder, with incalculable casualties."
Old Zhao slapped his knee hard,
"He must gather the 'fish' together! He's using Cha Cai as bait to attract all the firepower into this hall!"
Sure enough.
On the screen.
Behind the dark cover, Jiang He shielded Cha Cai beneath him.
Instead of firing outward, he raised his gun, aiming the muzzle at the three enormous crystal chandeliers above the banquet hall.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Three aimed shots.
The crystal chandeliers fell, exploding like shards of glass.
Zzzzz—
Electricity arced wildly, sparks flying everywhere.
The next second.
The entire banquet hall was plunged into darkness.
Cha Cai clutched tightly at Jiang He's wrist.
"Ah He! Take the secret escape route! Quick!"
Cha Cai's voice trembled.