punish

Most of the people in the office area were dressed casually, busy with their own tasks, occasionally exchanging a few words. The most outrageous thing was that no one noticed him, this unfamiliar face.

Milo found the meeting room without much trouble.

The conference room was large, resembling a new type of smart office area, connected to several independent private meeting rooms. Milo glanced around and noticed someone sitting in one of them; Blaze's demeanor was so conspicuous that Milo spotted him immediately.

Milo walked calmly into a small conference room next door.

There was glass blocking the sound, but it wasn't completely silent; you could still faintly make out conversations coming from the conference room behind.

The people below looked solemn, staring intently at Blaise, who sat in the main seat, as the sound of pages turning filled the air.

One of them frowned and said worriedly, "The newly acquired shops are having a huge impact on the business of the Sandton family in the neighborhood. We should be careful; they might retaliate."

Blaise tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table.

Another person chimed in, "Steven's shipping business has completely fallen apart, and he's now looking for new avenues everywhere. I heard he's planning to go south with Miles for a meeting; should we be on guard?"

Blaise gave a cold laugh.

The man quickly covered up his words: "Hey, what am I worried about? Old Mr. Dale said when he was alive that with Blaise around, there was no need to worry about cooperation in the South. They have no reason to side with outsiders."

"Blaze, you absolutely can't keep that invitation you got; you have to get rid of it as soon as possible," an older man said.

Upon hearing this, Milo suddenly had a thought.

The young man said, "Actually, Steven should be the one who's worried. If the police get their hands on the chips, they'll definitely be able to uncover the network of connections and trace their entire business through the transportation channels. At that point, the financial institutions that helped them launder money, and the hospitals that secretly received the chips, will all be finished, and they'll have no way out."

The older man disagreed: "The Thornton family's business was already in trouble; it was only a matter of time before it collapsed. There's no need to take the risk. The key issue is... the chips inside are all registered under real names. If something goes wrong, it could affect Blaise's legal status in the country. Wouldn't that be troublesome?"

The young man hesitated for a moment and said, "That seems to be true. I was oversimplifying things."

Blaise, who had been silent all along, finally spoke, his voice still mechanical and electronic: "No one can find that thing; it's very safe."

Milo could barely hear what was being said after that; only one thing remained in his mind—the invitation with the chip.

If only I could get my hands on that invitation.

Why didn't I think of stealing it back then? Or even just prying it open and peeling it off would have been better.

Regret, utter regret.

Even after leaving the company and returning to his room, Milo was still thinking about the chip.

The door creaked open, and Jesse returned home carrying heavy shopping bags, her face dark and silent.

Milo, who was sitting on the sofa, immediately turned off the TV and asked, "You're back so early today?"

Jesse snorted in response.

Milo knew Jesse was angry, so he spoke up, "My little shop is almost finished with renovations, and I'll be moving back tomorrow."

Upon hearing this, Jesse turned to look at Milo and said, "Are you in such a hurry to leave?"

Milo pursed his lips: "It's not right for me to keep lingering here and taking advantage of you."

"Did I say I didn't want you to take advantage of me?" Jesse couldn't contain the cold indifference typical of those in a Cold War, and exploded like a firecracker. "Do you know what those people who come to you have done? They'll do anything to solve a case. What kind of cops are they if they only care about the result and not the means?! Why don't you ever trust me—"

“I believe you,” Milo suddenly interrupted Jesse’s rambling.

Jesse was stunned: "What?"

“I didn’t agree to them.” Milo rested his chin on the sofa and looked at Jesse. “I’m not stupid. Compared to the people from Skynet Operations, I definitely trust you more. Anyway, I can’t run away now. Isn’t being your informant better than risking my life for them?”

A hint of uncertainty flashed across Jesse's face.

Once this major cross-city case is solved, commendations and promotions will be inevitable, so it's not surprising that the Skynet Action Bureau of Wanyang has come to the rescue. As is customary, local authorities are powerless to resist cases involving the Skynet Action Bureau, which is backed by business tycoons and will offer various lucrative rewards that the parties involved simply cannot refuse.

Therefore, when he learned that Milo had been taken away for a talk, he subconsciously felt that Milo would also defect.

"Are you not angry anymore?" Milo looked at Jesse's face, which was turning pale and then flushed.

Jesse was a little embarrassed and embarrassed, and retorted, "Who said I was angry?" He quickly changed the subject and started clearing the dishes, saying, "You have to eat whatever I make."

Milo smiled and said, "Yes, sir."

Jesse didn't say anything and kept washing the vegetables.

Milo turned the TV back on, and after watching for a short while, he heard Jesse suddenly speak from behind him.

"Milo, whether we solve this case or not, I will ensure your safety. I will not let you down."

Milo didn't turn around, clutching the remote control in his hand, curling his knees together, but replied in a light tone, "I know."

The next day, after moving, Milo thought it over and decided to send Blaise a message.

It's an emoji of a puppy peeking out, with a big "What are you doing?" superimposed on it.

Blaise replied quickly with a photo.

A place that resembles an open-air casino. That suits his style quite well.

Milo replied with a smiling emoji.

Blaise returned his smile.

[^_^]

Here it comes again, that creepy feeling.

Milo put down his phone, his mind racing.

Looking at the casinos along the coast of Wudong Port, the nearest one is a 3-hour drive from Happiness Building.

Given this distance and this timing, it's a golden opportunity. What is he still hesitating for?

Milo dashed out the door, grabbed the key, and headed straight for the Happiness Building.

The taxi sped along, and halfway there, Milo received a message from Blaise, a text message he least wanted to see.

[Today, I'm going to your new store. Come, I want to see you at 5 pm.]

I glanced at the time; it was already 2 p.m.

Forget about it. Now that we're turning our guns around and heading back home, who knows when we'll have another chance? Besides, he can barely make it back and forth, and if he's late, who knows how the madman will use this against him and torture him.

Milo sent a crying emoji and replied with "[sick]".

[Take your medicine! You have to come...]

Milo was annoyed, but he couldn't not reply. He frantically searched for a feverish emoji and then sent a picture of someone fast asleep.

Fearing Blaze might be stubborn and insist on persisting, Milo added, "[I'll see you tomorrow.]"

Thankfully, the madman didn't send him any more messages.

We've arrived at Happiness Building.

Milo took the elevator step by step, found room 2203 accurately, looked around, and made sure no one was there.

The key went into the lock and fit perfectly. Milo pressed the doorknob firmly, twisted his wrist, and the blood-red door slowly opened a crack.

The pigeon coop remained dark and silent as always.

Milo carefully closed the door, trying to keep quiet. He groped his way along the wall in the dark, but unfortunately, he couldn't find the light switch. With no other option, he decided to use his phone for light.

If all goes well, he can remove the chip from the banquet card within two minutes.

A strange fragrance wafted into my nostrils.

It smells wonderful. The initial scent is a lingering sandalwood fragrance, while the base notes are more like ambergris and frankincense. It's as if all other scents can be gently enveloped, settled, and purified.

The last time he came here, it didn't seem to have this flavor.

This wonderful aroma is perfect for cleaning up the smell of blood.

The smell of blood... Milo's scalp tightened, and he suddenly remembered that he seemed to have smelled this scent somewhere before, no, on someone.

Suddenly, a red light flickered in the dark room, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue. Then, with a "click," the dim lights suddenly turned on, and Milo's heart stopped for a second.

Wearing a black plastic protective suit, Blaze sat on the bed, incense smoke wafting around him, and the dark red invitation to the mountaintop charity gala was prominently displayed in his hand.

A waterproof bag was laid on the ground, and next to it was an open toolbox, with gleaming knives and bone saws displayed solemnly.

The incense sticks were indeed used to remove odors, but only to remove the smell of blood that was about to gush out.

Blaise was unable to speak, but his emotionless black eyes were more terrifying than any language.

Milo instinctively took a step back, his mind going completely blank.

Extreme fear can actually give rise to some quick wit.

The junior employee at Dale Group who "mistakenly identified" him, the special conference room he "easily" entered, the chip news he "misheard"... many things flooded into Milo's mind at this moment, forcing him to recall even further back in time.

As far back as the church bar, after a passionate kiss, the key handed to him...

A loyalty test set up well in advance.

Blaise gave Milo several chances to stop before pushing open the door.

Jesse's words still echoed in his ears... He would be killed if his deception was discovered.

Did you lie to me or not? The question from Tianya Cape resounded in my mind again.

However, at this moment, Milo no longer needed to consider whether he could make excuses or not, because the outcome was already decided the moment he pushed open the door.

Blaise will no longer believe him.

He's really going to die this time.

Milo's heart pounded wildly. He turned and ran, grabbing the doorknob and pulling the door open with all his might, but the light from outside only shone into the room for a second.

The next second, a tremendous force slammed down on the door, and Milo felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, as if his whole body was about to be crushed.

Blaise twisted his arm and slammed him to the ground.

With a "crack," my shoulder dislocated, probably fractured.

Blaze took a step forward, his cold eyes looking down at Milo, his right hand pointing at him, then he crossed his hands in front of his chest, clasped them together and raised them to the side of his face, his left finger pointing at his chin, and then he wrapped his arms around Milo's neck.

Despite the intense pain, Milo understood the meaning of the gestures.

Blaise asked: You want me dead too?

As his death approached, Milo was quite emotional. This guy was incredibly bright; in just a few days, he had already improved his sign language skills to a whole new level.

"Otherwise what?" Milo gasped, a bright smile spreading across his face. "When you encounter scum like you, anyone with a conscience would want to do justice to God."

Blaze hadn't expected Milo to change his timid nature and dare to stab him with words even on his deathbed.

Just by saying those words with that face, the attack was surprisingly precise and effective.

A force pressed down; Blaze was stepping on his ankle, grinding it down little by little.

Even someone as resilient to pain as Milo gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, but his mouth was still sharp: "I'm so glad that Theo Green died early. It's good that he died early. Being remembered by someone like you is worse than being a ghost."

Three words were precisely chosen as a landmine, shattering Blaze's composure.

Blaze crouched down, grabbed Milo's collar with one hand, and his face was already frighteningly pale.

"To tell you the truth, your kissing was terrible. Oh, and by the way, you were right, I was sent by Miles to disgust you. I slept at his place last time too. Your brother is much better than you—"

Milo was about to speak when her cheek was pinched. Milo endured the pain and bit down on Blaise's hand, but the next second her face was forcibly turned and she was kissed.

Blaze exerted all his strength; the terrifying power within him almost swallowed him whole, and the spiked bead forced his tongue to its limit, pointing straight into his throat, almost causing him to vomit.

Unable to escape, Milo returned the kiss and bite, causing Blaise to momentarily lose his composure and retreat.

In an instant, the taste of blood filled my mouth.

In the struggle, Milo suddenly realized that his clothes had been torn at some point.

Goosebumps rose on Milo's skin, and almost instinctively he tried to crawl away, but before he could take two steps, Blaise grabbed his ankle and pulled him back.

The previous provocation and insults finally worked; Milo wasn't killed outright and had a chance to move to the toolbox. He grabbed a knife haphazardly, and without hesitation, plunged it into Blaise's back, regardless of its quality.

This ruthless thrust caught Blaze completely off guard.

Milo seized the opportunity and, when the time was right, ruthlessly added another stab to Blaze's upper arm, kicked him in the chest, and then grabbed the crystal ball ornament by the bedside and smashed it straight at Blaze's forehead.

Unfortunately, Blaze dodged the crystal ball, which smashed against the wall and shattered into pieces, scattering across the floor.

Snowflakes scattered, and the flame inside spun twice before gradually coming to a stop.

A flicker of panic crossed Blaze's face as he stared intently at the crystal ball, as if it were far more important than the stab wound.

The door was suddenly pulled open.

Milo ran out with all his might, pressed the elevator button, ran inside, and frantically pressed the close button, all in one smooth motion.

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a blood-covered figure caught up and slammed his hand on the elevator door, startling Milo. Fortunately, Blaze's fingers, which were trying to pry open the door, missed the closing moment.

As the elevator descended, despite the sweltering heat of midsummer, Milo felt his body trembling violently. He clutched his dislocated arm, and the pain from his dislocated ankle, caused him to break out in a cold sweat and his teeth to chatter.

Fortunately, the numbers continued to drop smoothly, falling one level at a time.

The elevator doors opened, and Milo lunged out.

He ran out of the building with his clothes disheveled, feeling dizzy and disoriented. Unfortunately, he stepped into a cement pothole at the intersection, twisting his already injured ankle again. This time, he couldn't even stand up and could only struggle to drag himself up from the ground.

Although he couldn't be considered successful in his career, he was at least twenty-four, a handsome and dashing age. He absolutely couldn't die in a pigeon coop, let alone possibly suffer the filthy fate of being raped, murdered, and dismembered.

Just thinking about it made me feel frustrated. A mouthful of hot blood rushed to my throat, and I used my crippled hands and feet to exert my strength.

Meanwhile, Blaise chased after them.

Milo's two stabs were extremely vicious, using the force to grind bones to dust, showing that he truly wanted him dead.

Blaze felt no pain, only a burning rage.

Watching Milo crawling around on the ground, Blaze's breathing gradually calmed down.

He only needs to be about ten steps away to catch him.

How should he punish his betrayal?

Milo knew that someone was behind him, but he refused to give up. He climbed up the rusty iron gate with all his might and shook it.

The sudden movement caused the iron lock on the car to clang, and a man standing by the car with his back to the building, deep in thought, turned around at the sound.

Milo wondered if he was seeing things, but he definitely saw Miles lunge at him.

Miles, who had come to discuss the southward notification with Blaise, was reluctant to step into this doghouse. Having failed to contact Blaise and with urgent requests from him, he had no choice but to go in person. But upon arriving and seeing the filthy, stinking place, he couldn't bear to step inside. He stood by the roadside, trying to mentally prepare himself, his thoughts drifting away until he was startled by the sound of chains. He turned around and saw this scene.

At that moment, I felt both shocked and frightened.

Miles scooped Milo up from the ground, his shock and pain unmistakable. He quickly took off his coat and wrapped it tightly around the barely clothed Milo.

"Milo, Milo!" Miles cried out repeatedly, "Who did it? Who did it!"

Milo, who was in so much pain that he was almost experiencing a physiological fainting spell, naturally couldn't answer.

Who else could have done it?

Blaze, who had caught up, stood firmly on his feet. There was a clear knife wound on his arm, and blood was flowing down his arm, along with the blood dripping from the sharp knife in his hand that gleamed with a cold light.

A resident who happened to be turning the corner was so shocked by the sight that his legs went weak and he forgot to walk, just standing there at the door with the plastic bag in his hand.

Blaise turned his head and waved his wrist impatiently, signaling him to get lost.

The person ran away trembling, not forgetting to swipe to the phone's dial pad.

Blaze ignored him, only letting out a deep breath. He brushed his sweat-dampened hair from his eyes, adjusted his hearing aid, and smeared his face with blood from his hands.

The usually calm and composed Miles slapped Blaise across the face; the slap was sharp and exceptionally loud.

Blaze took the slap squarely, remaining unmoved. He simply stared blankly at Milo, who lay motionless in Miles' arms, a faint smile gradually creeping into his eyes.

“If you dare touch him, I’ll kill you.” A chilling glint flashed in Miles’ eyes, a clear warning. “No matter if anyone in the south is protecting you, I will kill you.”

Blaise began to use increasingly fluent sign language. Miles understood.

Didn't you push him into my hands yourself?

Do you care about him?

The two questions left Miles frozen in place, as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.

A ruthless glint appeared on Blaise's face, his gestures slow and deliberate: You don't have the ability to kill me.

The sound of sirens rang out in the distance.

Blaze gestured, the sharp blade flashing: "As for him, I've changed my mind. Now, I'd much rather fight you for him."