Act 6: Baptism by Fire

[Part 1: Clark Sean]

The public security and defense center at Yangjiang Ferry was filled with the sounds of people, which started with verbal arguments and later turned into heated shouting and cursing.

Finally, the office door was suddenly slammed open by a strong, disheveled man. Clark Sean landed on his backside, his sidearm shattering into a pile of parts.

This blond, blue-eyed Onsa man, however, spoke loudly and swearing in a thick Sichuan dialect.

"I'm from the anti-drug task force of the Guangling Zhixi Squad! Who's in charge here? And you dare to lay a hand on me?!"

A beautiful, curvaceous security manager emerged from the office; her slightly distorted features bore a striking resemblance to the Big Sister.

--This female security chief's real Lisa Krausa, one of the mistresses recommended to George Joshua by Manager Todd. She underwent plastic surgery to resemble this Immortals's special XP, transforming herself into a Big Sister figure.

Don't be surprised; such clumsy imitations are commonplace in the underworld. In the city centers of various trading hubs, especially in commercial pedestrian streets, you can often pick out three or four gunsmiths from the crowd.

Clark Sean is an honest, simple, and even somewhat dull and clumsy junior sheriff. The anti-drug task force in Guangling Zhixi was expanded into six groups, and there were simply not enough people, so they recruited this veteran to take charge of the water police work near Yangjiang Ferry Terminal.

He was abandoned by his parents at a young age and was adopted by a Chinese couple who sent him to school. He was admitted to police academy with excellent grades, graduated successfully at the age of nineteen, retired from the military at the age of twenty-three, and returned to the front line at the age of twenty-five. The knightly combat skills of a gunsmith accompanied him throughout his youth.

When Mr. Clark caught the small boat transporting cherry shells, he was overjoyed, thinking he was about to crack a major drug manufacturing case. However, the Police Department sent a message that, citing the complex prison environment and the need to protect the lives of those involved in serious cases, the criminals would be transported to a private security company at Yangjiang Ferry for safekeeping.

And that's how it turned out --

--Krawk sent the man, but that was the end of the story.

As you might expect, Lisa Krausa is George Joshua's mistress, and the security company she works for is a "gray area" that specializes in protecting people.

Once a criminal falls into the clutches of Guangling Zhixi, Manager Todd will immediately devise various methods to protect these important personnel and materials, employing both soft and hard tactics, and using seemingly respectable excuses.

"The items you confiscated are all legal and compliant goods. Didn't your boss tell you about this?" Lisa Krausa said impatiently. "Sheriff, you can arrest criminals, but detaining law-abiding citizens and infringing on their legal rights is wrong."

"A law-abiding citizen?" Clark straightened up, clutching his backside, his face contorted in pain.

With just a simple push of the palm, Clark felt as if his lumbar spine was about to crack.

"You call them good citizens! Those old bastards are growing opium in the fields! And you call them good citizens?! You woman, are you even being reasonable?!"

Lisa stepped aside and saw fully armed security personnel surrounding several fierce-looking old farmers in the office.

The suspects were smoking and playing cards in the office, emboldened by their position. They all knew that George Joshua wouldn't stand idly by, and that Manager Todd had plenty of ways to handle things.

"I'm too lazy to argue with you." Lisa tilted her head back, looking down at them with a hint of threat in her words: "If you're not happy, call your superior and ask him—or do you want to start a fight here? Fight with us militiamen?"

Clark picked up the parts of his sidearm, pieced them back together, and grumbled as he dusted himself off.

He finally gave up. He seemed to understand everything, but he just didn't want to wake up from the world.

"You shameless, filthy, slutty bitch, you still have the face of a War King on your head."

He cursed under his breath, fearing that Lisa would slap him a few more times.

"If the Nameless One comes, the first thing he'll kill is you bastards and lackeys."

His body suddenly felt lighter, and he hurried downstairs, talking as he went.

"A wise man doesn't fight a losing battle; we'll see what happens!"

Finally, he dared to shout the words "We'll see" out loud, as if Mr. Clark had won a victory. He had gained courage by moving away from Lisa and further away from the Blood-giving Monster's powerful shove.

Stepping outside, he and his bespectacled deputy squatted down beside the security company's stone steps to smoke.

Four-Eyes rushed over to put the fire pipe on for the captain. "How is it? Captain? How is it? Is the man coming back?"

"How can we possibly get it back!" Clark said angrily. "We can't beat them in a fight, and they'll just laugh at us for trying to reason with us. They think that once they send someone in, they're never coming out—I've been fooled by that old man!"

"Then," Four-Eyes immediately said, "Call the old man and find out! We can't let these people get away with it!"

"Alright!" Clark took out his phone and immediately called a retired veteran in the warband.

The first call went unanswered.

Clark persisted, dialing several times.

He clearly remembered that the head of the anti-drug special task force repeatedly instructed that everything should be done under the remote command of this veteran cadre. Although this veteran cadre had retired, he was highly respected in the various task forces in the community and was also a weapons expert, still holding the position of explosives consultant in the task force.

When Mr. Clark seized the suspected drug-smuggling vessel, the veteran officer personally called to instruct Clark Sean not to act rashly for the time being. This matter concerned Clark's personal career advancement. The special anti-drug task force of the task force had never had a precedent for promotion without due process. This task force was very young and had not been established for long. If someone else were to join the team, Clark's future would probably be difficult.

Young Mr. Clark actually believed this nonsense and, following the middleman's instructions, gradually sent the criminals to the security company, instructing Lisa Krauss to keep them under her care.

"The old man isn't answering the phone, why don't you call the brigade headquarters? You can call the regimental commander too!" Four-Eyes suggested.

Clark: "I know! I know! I need you to teach me!"

In his panic, he dialed the headquarters' number again.

It only rang once before being answered.

--The squad leader had just received Clark's call when he immediately started yelling.

"You idiot! You really just let them go?!"

Clark's ears were sore from the shouts and curses from the headquarters that he painfully moved his phone away from his ear.

Captain: "Do you catch people by swimming after boats?! Otherwise, how can your brain keep bobbing around and producing water?!"

Clark: "No, Captain—you're the one who wants me to listen to the old man, this is..."

"That's just polite talk! Don't you even know what polite talk is?!" The brigade leader immediately explained, "Don't believe a single word of the excuses at the dinner table! Give that old man some face, after all, he was the mentor of several of us in the department! Now he's in cahoots with Todd, he's taken bribes and wants to interfere, and you actually believe his nonsense?! Clark Sean! Tell me! Where are you right now?"

Clark: "No, no, no, I won't hand over my gun, I still have a mission."

Commander: "You have one hour! Immediately! Get back to the combat group office right now!"

After saying that, the call was disconnected.

Clark's face turned grim; he didn't know how to explain himself.

Four-Eyes, trembling with fear, immediately asked, "The captain won't blame us, will he? Captain Sean? He'll definitely only punish you, right?"

The phone rang, and Clark, seeing it was a call from headquarters, thought things had taken a turn for the better.

"Hey! Commander, I'm here! Do you want me to continue the operation?"

Commander: "--Summon Four-Eyes! Neud! Phillips! Everyone in your group! All of them!"

The call ended again.

Four-Eyes slumped against the outer wall of the security company, losing all his strength.

"Why don't you keep calling the old man and demand an explanation? We've done something for George Joshua, so we deserve some compensation for our hard work!"

"Bullshit! I've already been lenient by not killing them!" Clark cursed, but his hands didn't stop; he continued dialing the old man's number, "Still asking these criminals for money? Trying to claim credit? Get your act together, you four-eyes!"

"Okay, okay," the bespectacled younger brother pouted, putting away all his crooked thoughts.

The call finally went through.

[Part ② Wisdom]

Koruyaf Connor and General Manager Todd got along very well, and through the General Manager's introduction, the aging Chapter Explosives Advisor finally found a second spring.

Whether it was a second spring of power or a second spring as a man, Mr. Clark was fooled by this old man and handed all the people involved back to the White Shark Association.

At this very moment, Koruyaf was on the White Shark Association's second cruise ship. He had just enjoyed a Jiali encounter with a beauty arranged by Manager Todd, and after getting dressed, he received a call from that kid Clark.

"Old man! What did you ask me to do?!" Clark demanded angrily. "Now I'm caught in the middle! The headquarters wants me to resign and get out! All the suspects have been detained by the security company! What am I supposed to do?!"

"You've done a great job!" Koruyaf, his belly protruding and his double chin jutting out from beside his ear, held the phone to his ear; he was practically a pig in size. "Young man, you have a bright future ahead of you!"

"Don't give me that nonsense!" Clark cursed, then switched to accented English, "Where the hell are you now? You need to give me an explanation! I'm helping a criminal!"

"You'd better watch your words." Koruyaf's tone suddenly turned serious. "Slandering innocent civilians as criminals is a legal offense, and it will greatly damage the image of the Fifty-fifth District's battle group. If they hold you accountable and appeal, you'll be in deep trouble. If your brigade holds you accountable, you might even end up in jail."

Clark seemed startled, muttering, "Then what do you suggest? I either go to the warband to hand over my badge and weapon, or I take the man back."

"That's your problem." Koruyaf had no intention of caring about Clark Sean's life or death. "But you need to think this through. The cargo throughput from the Lieyang Fort waterway is so huge. Are you going to inspect every single ship? These are the people's livelihood, young man. You don't understand this, but your boss does. He wants you to resign for your own good. If you continue, you won't live long—not that I'm trying to harm you, but you're not qualified to go against the White Shark Association Society. You can't be too straightforward."

Clark didn't speak, he just pursed his lips, seething with hatred.

"How about this, I see you're quite efficient," Koruyaf continued. "I'll write you a letter of introduction and have Manager Todd introduce you to a few of the War Gang's cousins. You can all get to know each other, and if you work for me in the future, as long as you remain as just as you are today, upholding justice and loyal to the cause, I will definitely treat you well."

"I understand." Clark Sean's tone was low, his spirits had plummeted, and his head felt like it had been doused with a bucket of ice water.

Koruyaf continued, "I have something to do, I'm in a meeting, I'll have to go now."

As he said this, he pulled his female companion into his arms, caressing the beautiful waist of the cruise ship Jiali, a smile of excitement on his face. Even his tone of voice remained unchanged, as if he were really in a meeting.

After hanging up the phone, Manager Todd knocked on the door at the opportune moment.

Koruyaf immediately pushed his female companion aside and hurriedly replied, "Please come in!"

Manager Todd straightened his tie and clothes with meticulous care, displaying a level of etiquette even more refined than that of the station attendants. As a man of respectable character, he naturally understood what these retired veterans longed for most.

They have fallen from the pinnacle of power to the depths of despair. Apart from a few community members who regard them as heroes, they are exposed as nothing more than villains once they return to the battlefield. Times are changing, and knightly combat skills are a great asset to Guangling Zhixi, but they have also indirectly rendered these aging heroes in their seventies and eighties obsolete.

After the entire system for arresting criminals and commanding operations was upgraded, Koruyaf was of no help whatsoever except for his tiny bit of keen sense of explosives, which he could teach to the children of the new era.

At this point, if you give him some power, he will immediately recall the glorious illusion of his youth—something he cannot refuse.

"Are you happy, sir? Are you comfortable?" Manager Todd asked.

As the girl accompanying him was about to run out, Koruyaf's eyes also glanced out. He couldn't forget the beauty of the No. 2 cruise ship, nor could he forget this Tender Paradise, which made him feel refreshed. These hybrid monsters with special constitutions, after careful training, were still adorable and charming monsters, even though they were monsters—especially these few top-quality ones that he could choose from.

Their skills in bed were superb, each possessing unique techniques. They even performed cosmetic surgery on the Big Sister's face, which, despite its flaws, gave Koruyaf a peculiar sense of satisfaction—he suddenly understood War King George 'Joshua perverse sense of humor.

The desire to conquer is so alluring; turning powerful women into your trophies—that's the aesthetic of the carnivore.

Before the Homo sapiens civilization, there were countless large human races, most of whom killed each other. Men were captured, beheaded, and roasted, while women were turned into breeding machines. This repeated interbreeding and reproduction took hundreds of thousands of years to hatch the dominant species on Earth, and Homo sapiens was born.

"Heh, George Joshua respects me so much," Koruyaf chuckled. "Completely different from the younger members of the chapter. I think this is the magnanimity of a hero."

Manager Todd nodded. "Sir, you flatter me. The Chairman has always respected the elderly and cared for the young; he has a truly compassionate heart."

"However," Koruyaf frowned, pondering, wanting to add a small condition to the dessert, "If only the Jiali on this cruise ship looked a little more like the Big Sister, and had better figures."

"That's the end of the matter, sir," Manager Todd quickly interrupted. "This is a matter of life and death."

"Oh? What do you mean?" Koruyaf asked, puzzled.

Manager Todd explained carefully--

"--You should know that President Joshua is a man without any bad habits. He is very disciplined and restrained. He never smokes or drinks, and he doesn't like to kill innocent people indiscriminately."

"He lived a very healthy life and had a very peaceful mind, with only one bad habit, which he himself admitted."

"He was lecherous, extremely lecherous."

"Even from dozens of meters away, just by sniffing her, one can tell what kind of woman she is and how much she's worth. They have a mental estimate of it all."

"Back to the sisters on the ship who had their faces sculpted and surgically altered to resemble the War King, Mr. Koruyaf, most of these lucky ones' faces will have some imperfections. They absolutely cannot look exactly like the War King —not that the surgical technique can't do it, but Chairman George Joshua specifically instructed that."

"These women, despite being baptized by the holy blood, are still weak and powerless. Asking them to fire guns or develop terrifying leg and arm strength is clearly asking the impossible."

"President Joshua is not only a womanizer, but also a man of deep affection. If, Mr. Koruyaf, you really wanted one of the sisters to perfectly replicate the face of the Big Sister and serve you—what do you think President Joshua would think?"

"Oh, that old man is really a pervert," Koruyaf exclaimed. "Forget it, forget it, nobody knows what it feels like to hold the real War King, right? Apart from the gunsmith's children and the gunsmith's wife, nobody else has been able to get close to her—let's just treat the fake as real!"

Todd immediately began to flatter him.

"--Mr Koruyaf, I deeply admire your profound philosophy of life."

Koruyaf laughed smugly, "It's just a pity that the outsider doesn't have such wisdom."

On the other side, Clark Sean was squatting at his front door.

He neither returned to the battle group to hand over his weapon, nor did he muster the courage to infiltrate the security company to snatch people.

He didn't even dare to go home. While his adoptive parents cooked inside, he would squat on the iron ladder at the back door, afraid that his parents would be disappointed in him.

Looking at the dilapidated neighborhood and the newly built apartment complex two blocks away—that was also George Joshua's legitimate business—he climbed to the rooftop in a fit of rage, shouting curses into the distance, hoping the city would be baptized by flames.

"All you know is building houses! Building houses! How many houses have you built? As if anyone can afford them!"

Just then, Brother Youde climbed over from the roof of the neighboring house.

"Hey officer! I need to talk to you!"

Entrusted by 9527, Zhao Youde specifically sought out the main person in charge of the case within the anti-drug task force.

Clark: "Huh?"

With nimble and agile movements, Youde slipped a mobile phone into Clark's arms, flipped over the railing, jumped onto the water tank of the hotel next door, and disappeared into the night in the blink of an eye.

The local militiamen downstairs were searching everywhere with flashlights, seemingly tracking Zhao Youde.

Clark looked at his mobile phone and received the first text message from 9527.

"I have a way to help you get him back, trust me."

"I am not Qin Shi Huang, you don't need to pay me 50."

"I am anonymous."