"Allen, this mission was of utmost importance. This was the funding the organization had allocated to you."
Ra's al Ghul took out a stack of U.S. dollars from his pocket, placed three bills on the table, then counted out two more. "The extra two hundred is my personal sponsorship. I hope you don't deprive yourself."
"Don't worry, boss. I once hacked my way from Penglai East Road all the way to South Heaven Gate without my eyes even getting dry."
Allen swore solemnly as he repeatedly counted the five hundred-dollar bills in his hand.
Ra's al Ghul nodded in satisfaction, thinking that as long as Allen kept this up, how could the other three factions possibly refrain from hunting him down?
Once everything had been explained, he immediately had the three of them board a helicopter and catch the nearest flight to America.
The moment the disaster star left, the base could not wait to throw a celebration banquet.
Everyone eagerly dug into proper food.
Pfft...
Pfft, pfft...
Pfft, pfft, pfft...
"What's going on?"
Ra's al Ghul suddenly felt a cramping pain in his stomach and realized there had to be something wrong with the food.
But Allen had already left, and the dishes had been prepared personally by the cook. How could anything have gone wrong?
Chelsea was the first to enter the kitchen. Having dealt with medicinal herbs for years, she could identify the key issue with a single sniff.
She swiftly located a bag of yellowish-brown powdered seasoning.
It was croton powder!
She even found a note inside the bag.
'No one has triggered the traps in the toilets lately. Everyone must be constipated. Allen has really worried himself sick over you all.'
"Everyone, don't use the toilets!"
Unfortunately, it was already too late.
That day, wails filled the base nonstop, mixed with a fragrance that spread through every room.
At that moment, aboard a long-haul passenger plane.
Of the three adjacent seats, Allen sat in the middle, his shrewd eyes darting around.
"Batsy, Green Arrow, it's a pleasure to meet you."
Allen crossed his arms over his chest and gestured for the two of them to shake hands.
He was seriously ill.
Couldn't he just hold out his hand normally? Why did he have to shake hands with his left hand reaching right and his right hand reaching left? Wasn't that needlessly troublesome?
"Bruce Wayne."
"Oliver Queen."
Neither of them could be bothered to argue over the names. It was obvious that Allen was an extraordinary specimen, no ordinary man. He was far too enthusiastic, and the journey might not be peaceful with him around.
Out of goodwill, Bruce said, "Allen, leave once we get to America. The Ninja Master wants to use this opportunity to get rid of you."
Bruce had joined The League of Assassins to learn its skills, not because he believed in its so-called justice.
Only by entering the darkness and becoming darkness could one defeat darkness.
Likewise, Oliver did not want to see Allen die innocently.
From the stories he had heard at the base, Allen had merely pulled pranks and had never done anything that endangered anyone's life.
Besides, he was mentally abnormal. He deserved some understanding.
In truth, Bruce and Oliver knew of each other.
Wayne Group and Queen Group were both top-tier presences in high society. They even had business dealings with each other, so it was easy for them to learn about one another.
With similar family backgrounds and training together in The League of Assassins, the two would be willing to entrust their backs to each other in the future.
"How could the boss possibly stab me in the back? I should be the one abandoning darkness for the light and betraying him."
Allen looked enlightened. "Batsy, are you jealous of the boss's trust in me? Are you trying to use this chance to take my place? You're such a green tea bitch."
"Green Arrow, don't you think so?"
Allen turned to Oliver.
Oliver silently closed his eyes.
Good words cannot save a man determined to die.
Bruce felt exhausted and decided to let Allen live or die as he pleased.
Before long, a flight attendant pushing a meal cart approached with a professional smile. "Sir, what would you like to drink?"
Allen said, "A Coke with ice, but no Coke. Thank you."
"..."
Pennsylvania.
Philadelphia.
After getting off the plane, they took a cab directly to the meeting location.
Chen Ji Sichuan Restaurant.
Once they got out of the car, the three stared at the somewhat shabby storefront and fell into doubtful silence.
"Did we come to the wrong place? Even negotiations between Hongxing and Dongxing would have more class than this," Allen could not help complaining.
"Pay up, bitch."
At that moment, the taxi driver shouted impatiently.
The driver's hand was already reaching into the drawer. If they intended to skip the fare, he would not mind giving them a few equal-opportunity peanuts.
"Keep the change."
Allen casually pulled out a bill.
The Black driver froze, then took it and immediately slammed on the accelerator, speeding away.
"How much did you pay?"
Bruce reminded him.
Allen took out the remaining money. He had only four hundred dollars left. "I gave him a hundred."
"The fare was twenty-three dollars," Oliver added.
Allen's already math-challenged brain immediately began whirring at full speed, reaching one conclusion: he had paid far too much.
He immediately set down his suitcase and chased after the taxi.
"Come back! Give me my change!"
Not long after, Allen returned dejectedly. Clearly, he had failed to get his money back.
"How did it go?" Bruce deliberately asked.
They suddenly understood the members of Snow Mountain Base a little better. Allen had been far too noisy along the way. Sometimes, they truly wanted to strangle him.
Still, seeing Allen suffer was strangely satisfying.
"I caught up to it."
Allen looked despondent. "Then I realized I'd chased the wrong car."
"..."
They entered the Sichuan restaurant and sat down, waiting for a waiter to come over and exchange the code phrase.
After all, the restaurant was merely an obvious cover. This place was a liaison point for the four factions.
Allen put on a pair of sunglasses and lowered his voice. "In a moment, follow my lead."
Follow your lead, my ass.
Could he act normal for once?
"Sir, what would you like to order?"
The waiter approached with a menu in his arms.
This was a liaison point operated by The Hand Clan. From the kitchen staff to the front-of-house workers, everyone was an assassin.
The moment the three entered, he could tell they were not ordinary people.
Their steps were steady, their breathing even. A martial artist's distinctive vitality and bearing could not be hidden from others in the same trade.
Of course, Allen was still questionable. He looked abnormal inside and out.
Perhaps he had gone mad from improper training.
"Where the earth trembles atop lofty hills, a stream and mountains remain beautiful for a thousand ages."
Allen spoke the code phrase and looked expectantly at the waiter for a response.
"Sir, what would you like to order?"
The waiter was completely bewildered and asked again.
Allen scratched his scalp in frustration. "The code is right. Aren't you supposed to answer, 'Before the gate lies the vast sea, and the waters of the Three Rivers flow for ten thousand years'?"
Since the code did not match, the waiter prepared to recommend dishes as he would for ordinary customers.
"Shadow Dawn."
At that moment, Bruce spoke the correct code phrase.
When he had traveled through the East, he had read a wuxia novel. The contact code used by the Heaven and Earth Society in the book was exactly the same as the one Allen had recited.
"Gentlemen, please come upstairs to a private room."
Shadow Dawn was the exclusive code phrase of The League of Assassins.
Among the four factions, The League of Assassins ranked first, so the waiter naturally treated them with great importance.
However, Allen was clearly the leader of the three representatives. His words and behavior were somewhat abnormal, and the waiter truly could not understand what the Ninja Master intended.
After leading the three into a secret meeting room, the waiter excused himself to notify the representatives of the other three factions to attend the talks.
At the same time, Bruce and Oliver sharpened their focus. Anyone capable of cooperating with The League of Assassins was certainly no ordinary person.
Before you continue