The King of Hell Calls Your Name

After seeing all the guests off, Glory had to work a little overtime. Wood Plark delivered a secret letter, telling her not to rush back to the Nine Realms to celebrate, as there was still some cleanup work to be done regarding the local gang dynamics in Lieyang Fort, which the War King needed to handle.

The social and cultural ecology of a region has a huge inertia, just like the family relationships in folk customs. Once you enter a family, you have to abide by the family rules. If a family eats human flesh, then newborn children must also abide by the same rules. This is also a tradition of Lieyang Fort since ancient times—children raised in criminal families are bound to become criminals, unless the child really has the ability to change their fate. But such people are very rare.

Having come from a family of human traffickers, Xue Ming naturally knew what Mr. Plark was up to.

They've taken down George Joshua and killed over a thousand notorious warbands, but what about the corrupt militia hiding in the city? And what about the more than 13,000 proxy war mercenaries from various warbands?

They used to work for the White Shark Association, but suddenly they lost their jobs and decided to establish their own fiefdoms and create a new underground order.

Ming De came and went quickly, sweeping away the territory of Lieyang Fort like a whirlwind sweeping away fallen leaves, leaving not even a single leaf on the tree. After the bandit leader was brought to justice, the monkeys and their followers all hid, not daring to show their faces for a while.

The group of nameless individuals retreated, leaving only the War King behind, precisely because his face was "ordinary" enough— George Joshua had modified his harem to resemble Glory, and at least four hundred victims bore the War King's face.

Without the help of the district governor of District 54, it would be difficult for them to reintegrate into society. If they cannot find their way home and their families abandon them, they will become a vulnerable group and have to spend a lot of money to change their appearance and get a new face.

The helpless "vases" will become spoils of war. The money-making tools on the No. 2 cruise ship will once again be targeted by these gangs, only in a different entertainment venue, a different brothel, a different nightclub, and with a different man to serve them.

Mr. Plark wanted Glory to stay in Lieyang Fort; she wouldn't have to actively search for the criminals, they would naturally come into her view.

She saw her wife and sister off and asked Xiao Qi to go to Mount Eureka to pick up the children and bring them home. Without the fast track of Lieyang Fort, the Immortals would have no way to return to the railway system, and the little ones could finally go to school.

She saw Meteor off; the boy hadn't even finished his wedding before running back to Fang Feng to work. He'd just handed the task over to Hasben and immediately rushed to Lieyang Fort, even losing track of his bride. So Glory told Meteor to hurry back and continue his round-the-world trip to finish the wedding ceremony.

She saw her companions off. Jason Megan had to continue investigating the Spirit Calamity at the Kurbo Gold Mine. Everyone had their own things to do; the adult world always seemed so busy.

Finally, it was time for JoeRank's teachers. Wen Bucai and two old friends said goodbye at the transit station, promising to get together for dinner and drinks on the weekend.

Immediately afterwards, Glory changed into casual clothes, left all her luggage at a hotel, and headed to the White Key militia's shelter—a temporary home for prostitutes who had worked for George Joshua, whether they had offered themselves willingly or been kidnapped and fallen into the clutches of evil. Many families came to claim their loved ones, and there were cries and arguments everywhere.

The oldest of these girls was thirty-seven, and the youngest was only sixteen.

Glory sat on a bench in the office's reception area, looking at these "copies"—they looked almost identical to Glory, except their noses were slightly crooked, their eyes smaller, and their chins protruding or receding. It was George Joshua who had specifically asked the plastic surgeon to do this, to leave him some room for imagination.

At this moment, Glory opened the secret letter and read Mr. Plark's instructions again.

"Ms. Glory, please forgive my rudeness. The entire Remix·Remixing Intrusion Project was just a brainstorming idea on my own. Please don't take it out on the BOSS."

"I'm a very despicable bastard. To achieve some ulterior political goals, I killed the gunsmith. This will inevitably put his wife and children in a life-or-death crisis. This has nothing to do with Ming De. As you know, the BOSS's mind isn't actually very sharp. He's not some clever and cunning monarch; on the contrary, he's a gentle and lovable leader who's overly kind to his subjects."

"But I am different, Ms. Glory. I am much more cold-blooded. The underworld is like a country, a vast city-state—whether people live in peace and prosperity or are destroyed is what I care about."

"Before you set out for Shambhala, I must root out all the vermin in the city-state. I'll use the gunsmith's death as bait, a political tool to incite resentment among the people. You have no idea how important your code name is, how powerful its mobilization ability is—when people know the gunsmith is dead, they'll be like children who have lost their father. Once they lose this protective shield, they'll mature and grow up instantly."

"There's a saying that a desperate army is bound to win. Upon hearing the news of your glorious sacrifice, even the most basic militia units might be able to break free from the evil forces and continue fighting with astonishing courage and fighting will."

"I have to do this. Its power is astonishing, and it's not just in Lieyang Fort; your students have already taken root and flourished throughout the entire underworld."

"In just six short years, more than 2.8 million young adults in major cities have lived their youth, from thirteen to twenty-three years old. These teenagers grew up listening to your story, and they are all witnessing your legend."

"Your codename was given to you by me. Since you refused the BOSS's kind invitation, were unwilling to become a blood-donating unit, and gave up your longevity plan, I have to take back this codename ahead of time—I will not allow this fairy tale to be shattered."

"Although the boss wants people to break free from superstition and treat him as the company's boss, not a god high above—people will always unconsciously worship idols."

"The gunsmith, this idol, cannot grow old. He cannot frail and confined to a wheelchair, nor can he die in bed with a catheter. He must remain forever young, forever vibrant, forever upholding a heart of justice. He must become an idol that all young people cannot surpass, yet strive to emulate—the dead cannot be defeated."

"So a few years ago, I worked with cabinet think tank staff, including members of the Philosopher Foundation, to plan this mixing project."

"You may have opinions about me, hold grudges, and feel resistant; I accept all of that. You can come to me every Saturday, and on the Sabbath, vent your anger to your heart's content. Shoot me, strip me naked and hang me from the rafters—anything is fine. This is just a personal grudge between you and me; it won't affect anyone else, and it has nothing to do with any group or organization."

"But I am determined to kill the gunsmith, and by the time you see this letter, I will have already finished the Remix. This is not a consultation, but a simple notification."

"I need you to stay in Lieyang Fort. There are old members of the Mister Fantastic's Battle Group, retired senior officers, and local gangs who are colluding with each other. They were originally the protectors of the people in District 54, but later they became the protectors of criminal forces, working for George Joshua. They are a gray force that walks between the legal and illegal worlds."

"You can punish the bandit leader, but you can't capture the relatives of these soldiers, you can't capture these respected 'fathers, mothers, uncles, and elders.' It's like a fierce fist hitting empty air. These people are still hiding behind another layer of relationships, watching the fire from the sidelines and remaining uninvolved."

"In my view, George Joshua's death will leave behind a large industrial vacuum, including the heavy industry east of Westbrook, thirty-two arms manufacturing-related production lines, two floating docks in the River Bend, and a shipyard."

"The northern suburbs have a population of 160,000. The able-bodied young men used to grow opium in the paddy fields. This fat land will never become ownerless treasure. Rather, it's like a child carrying pure gold in the bustling city. Someone will come and take it over immediately."

"The governor of District 54 is going to be in big trouble. The person who will bring him down will not be the Ming De prosecutor, but his political enemy. There will be a brief and chaotic vacuum in the official armed forces of this region, which will probably only last for about a month."

"For the next month, I need you to remain in Lieyang Fort, presenting yourself as Glory. Nobody cares about that face. The War King's appearance has become synonymous with being a [battle bitch] in Lieyang Fort, a high-priced commodity. In this environment, someone will come looking for you soon."

"I hope you can exercise restraint and be gentle with these talent scouts who are involved in human trafficking. Otherwise, you won't find the real mastermind behind the scenes. These guys aren't like George Joshua; they might just be a bunch of old men, a bunch of retired soldiers who couldn't get power. Their children are also working in the government offices of Lieyang Fort. George is using these middlemen to do some shady things, to make money and power deals."

"With just one night's results, you certainly can't kill every single customer on these five cruise ships, but staying in Lieyang Fort will definitely bring unexpected gains."

"Finally, I would like to pay my highest respects to the great War King, the Ming De battle angel."

"This despicable man can only steal the gunsmith's power in this way to play dirty tricks."

"I wish you a pleasant and relaxing hunting experience in Lieyang Fort. If you feel you have nowhere else to go—"

"--What I mean is, when you take back Jiang Xueming's male body, you'll definitely have some doubts. So, go to the Second Acropolis in Constantinople, to the luggage storage area at that station, there's a second letter. I've already arranged it for you. This letter will allow you to return to your family and get back to your original life rhythm without anyone noticing."

Glory tore the secret letter to shreds, stuffed the paper into her mouth, chewed it up, and swallowed it.

She ate the letter while thinking angrily, feeling quite mad.

That Wood Plark is truly despicable. First, he saved her life on the plane, then he fought with Sixty-Three, helped her awaken her Soul Power, and changed her fate.

He then linked this favor with the safety of the entire underworld, using this debt of gratitude as leverage to carry out a secret operation of acting first and informing later. Afterwards, he planned to sever ties with the BOSS at lightning speed, leaving all the resentment to Plark alone, and directly kill off the name of the gunsmith.

She was like a puppet on a string, as if her entire path was laid out by Plark, and she couldn't refuse. This bastard was like a barrel of dynamite; whether friend or foe, everyone would be harmed by his violent schemes, and one wrong move could send them shattering to pieces.

The reason why BOSS is respected is because it sacrificed itself to provide long-lasting health as a Universal Elixir to every Homo sapiens in the underground world. It nurtures humanity and encourages them to actively explore the underground world to find settlements and build new cities. Therefore, Plark regards it as a monarch.

Plark, the chief of the First Transportation Department, is more like a wicked minister with a belly full of evil intentions by the BOSS's side. As long as it is beneficial to the human race - such as sacrificing one's own family for the greater good - he will turn a blind eye and do it without hesitation. He is capable of doing any kind of despicable thing.

These power-hungry think tank staff are all filthy inside. If one day Mr. Wood were to become a victim, and it were a matter of sacrificing him for the happiness of countless others, he would probably offer his head without hesitation, just like a self-destructing truck. He would only be afraid that the fireworks he explodes out of are not big or beautiful enough, just like his soul power, which ignites at the slightest touch and explodes upon contact with fire.

Putting aside these useless daydreams, Glory is no longer a child and needs to focus on the task at hand.

"Hello"

Greetings came from the other side of the public reception area.

--She is a very young girl.

"Hey, are you also a princess of the Valhalla Palace? I don't think I've seen you before?"

Valhalla Palace is a nickname for the George Joshua II cruise ship and also the name of a nightclub.

The little girl squeezed next to Glory, holding a personnel form, and pointed to the family member section on the form, asking Glory questions.

"Are you in the dance group? Or some other talent group? Are you from the bathhouse? Are you in the group that serves special VIPs? Sister, why aren't you speaking? Did the supervisor poison your voice?"

Glory: "I am not a member of the Valhalla Palace."

"Huh?" The little girl's eyes widened, and she swept her hair back behind her head.

Glory then realized that the seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl was also an employee of Cruise Ship Number Two, and had undergone plastic surgery to resemble her.

"Then why are you wearing our [work uniform]?" the young girl asked, then suddenly realized, "Oh! You found your family? You don't want to admit you were a prostitute? Right?! Take me with you! Take me with you!"

She excitedly gestured and poked around on the receipt.

"How about I become your daughter, Mom? You'll be my real mom from now on! Take me away! Nobody cares about me! I'm involved in a case, and if no family comes to pick me up, I'll have to go to Juvenile Detention Center and jail!"

Glory brought the receipt and looked at the signatures on the list.

"Elena?"

The little girl immediately replied, "Yes! Yes! That's my stage name!"

Glory: "What's your real name?"

Elena fell silent, her eyes becoming cunning and mischievous as she pointed to the restaurant across the street.

"You treat me to dinner! Then I'll tell you!"

Glory immediately set off, taking Elena to a restaurant across the street. It was a French restaurant, luxuriously decorated, and seemed to be specifically for the staff and cadres of the militia affairs center.

Elena, holding the menu, ordered only a simple meal to fill her stomach. She immediately raised her arm to show her prisoner's bracelet.

"Mom! This bracelet has a tracking device on it. I have to go back to the detention center after this meal! Can't you help me? We're sisters, both suffering souls sold into slavery at the Valhalla Palace. You be my mother, I'll be your daughter, let's rely on each other from now on! I don't want to go to jail!"

Glory looked around. There were many people in the restaurant, and several burly men who looked fierce kept glancing at her table.

"Two aperitifs, and bring me the bottles, and a corkscrew too," Glory said to the waiter.

The waiter immediately smiled and said, "Madam, the drinks at this restaurant aren't cheap."

Glory: "It's okay, I can afford it."

Meanwhile, she was also observing Elena's expression—

--When she said "I can afford it," Elena's eyes lit up with excitement, as if she had found a wealthy mother.

Soon after, the food and drinks were delivered.

Glory wanted to get the little girl talking.

What is your real name?

Elena: "To tell you the truth, Mom, I don't even know my own name. Three years ago, I was captured and taken to the Valhalla Palace. The medical staff there said a few words to me, but I don't remember anything else. A couple from the Lieyang Fort Tax Office adopted me. They couldn't have children, so they gave me the blood of an inferior monster. I had plastic surgery done little by little to resemble the War King, playing the role of their good daughter."

Glory: "Which group are you in?"

"Of course, it's a special service customized for VIPs." Elena said immediately, "I'm not like those dancers on stage who sleep with clients in rooms. I don't even need to go to the bar, nor do I need to crawl into someone's arms to smile and drink. I just need to play the role of an innocent and kind girl."

Glory: "Pretty proud of yourself?"

"Hehe." Elena was a little embarrassed and asked in return, "Mom, what about before? Which group were you in? Did your family welcome you back?"

Glory: "Which group do you think I belong to?"

Elena looked at Glory's face--

"--Mom! You look so much like the War King, you must have been sent to be a high-ranking official's mistress, right? How much money could you earn in a month?"

Glory: "I'll break their hearts without spending a penny."

Elena wanted to ask something else, but at that moment Glory called over a waiter.

"I need a thermal lid, a big one, big enough to cover the girl's plate, and two napkins."

Upon receiving the order, the waiter immediately ran to the service counter. At that moment, three burly men walked over from the next booth—they had been watching Glory and Elena the whole time, and finally began to make their move.

At this moment, Elena suddenly panicked, clearly indicating that this girl was no ordinary person. She tried to move towards the aisle, wanting to leave her seat, but Glory held her down firmly.

"Where you go?"

Elena: "Mommy, Mommy, I need to pee, I'm going to the toilet!"

Glory looked at the three uninvited guests and then asked Elena, "Do you know these three handsome men?"

Elena: "I don't know her, I don't know her, I don't know her."

Glory was certain that this girl was working for the War Gang's talent scouts. She had lured the people involved in the case on Cruise Ship Two to this restaurant, where they were then taken away by the talent scouts or their henchmen.

These women, who had just escaped from the den of iniquity, had no family members to claim them. They might even be carrying a sum of stolen money, making them easy targets for the gang to exploit and bully.

"Elena, you're in luck today." The leader of the gang, a handsome man with a scar on his face, bent down and kissed Elena's cheek. "This lady seems to be quite wealthy; she even let you have a drink."

Elena laughed awkwardly, her arm gripped tightly by Glory, causing her to break out in a cold sweat from the pain. "Hehehehe, Crow."

This war gang leader, codenamed "Crow," escaped the nameless man's bullets because he couldn't rescue George Joshua in time. Once the storm has passed, he'll continue to stir up trouble.

"Madam, sorry to disturb your meal. We'd like to introduce you to a job."

Glory: "What kind of job?"

Crow grinned lewdly. "Isn't that just going back to your old ways? You're very good at it!"

Glory: "I don't remember ever changing jobs."

Crow: "You and Elena are both top-quality goods. This little girl even knows how to play a musical instrument. If you sell the mother and daughter together, they'll have each other for company in the adults' homes, and they won't be lonely!"

Glory took Elena's arm, took the insulated lid from the waiter, and covered Elena's light meal.

"Wow! Polite! Valuable! This woman is valuable!" the younger brother next to him shouted excitedly.

Glory took her wallet from her coat, remembering what Mr. Wood Plark had told her—be gentle with these talent scouts, don't alert them.

So she said politely, "Can I pay the bill first? This meal was supposed to be on me, and I have to keep my word to this young lady."

At this moment, Elena cried out in pain, feeling ashamed.

--She lured this complete stranger to the restaurant, and was about to be kidnapped and sold into prostitution by Crow, but the woman was still spouting strange nonsense about keeping promises and doing what she said, which was like stabbing her conscience with a knife.

"No need! No need!" Crow took out an HC black card from his bag and lightly slapped Elena's face. "This is my merchandise, why should I trouble you to spend money? I have enough money to raise a dog! You're going to become my bitch soon!"

Glory took out cash from her bag, about twelve thousand dollars.

"Can I take her with me? How much is Elena worth? I'll buy her freedom."

Upon seeing the money, Crow immediately became polite. A woman who could store so much money in the Valhalla Palace must have an extraordinary background. "Of course!"

This gang leader seemed to have an easy life; after taking the money, his greed grew stronger and stronger until he finally couldn't control himself. "But you still have to pay your own ransom! ~ Looking at your arms and legs, your buttocks and waist, and those round and full breasts..."

Before he could finish speaking, the War King kicked the henchman on the left side of the seat so hard that he smashed the man's testicles, leaving him dumbfounded, his bones shattered, and his flesh torn apart.

The bottle opener on the table pierced the throat of the henchman behind him, and blood gushed out like a fountain. The guests immediately scattered like birds and beasts.

Then, Crow's face turned pale with fright. He reached for his gun, only to feel a piercing pain in his fingers. His HC card had fallen into the strange woman's hand and turned into a sharp knife, severing his gun-wielding hand along with the gun's grip!

The table was smashed to pieces by the vicious kick, but the plate in front of Elena remained completely still.

Glory retrieved the cash from Crow's jacket pocket.

"If you don't want the money, I'll take it back. Take me to see your boss."

Clutching his severed hand, Crow asked tremblingly, "Which boss? Which one?"

Glory lifted the insulated lid from the plate in front of Elena; the bread and bacon were still steaming. She patted Elena on the shoulder, picked up a napkin, wiped the blood off the girl's face, and told Elena to finish her food quickly.

One at a time.

Elena was so frightened that she could barely hold her knife and fork, and kept screaming.

"Mom! Mom! Mom! Don't kill me! Mom! Mom!"