Fight
"I think I see rye..."
Type, press Enter, then delete.
Milo ultimately did not send this message to Jesse.
It happened so suddenly that he didn't really see clearly; you can't just assume someone is a tattooed man just because you see them.
The funeral had just begun, and Milo didn't want to cause any chaos.
The funeral hall was filled with kneeling prayer mats, but Miles was the only one standing in the front row, his suit highlighting his tall and slender figure.
He lit the incense, held it to his forehead with both hands, offered a stick of incense, and then stuck it into the incense burner at an angle before the ash even touched his hands, his perfunctory attitude was obvious.
Milo noticed Miles's disdain, and sure enough, discontented voices rose from below.
“He is your father. Isn’t the kindness he showed in raising you greater than the heavens? Doesn’t it deserve that you set aside your pride and kneel down to see him off on his final journey?”
The speaker was a man with almost completely white hair, who jumped up in response to the sudden movement, like a spring being fired.
Milo peeked over. He was quite old, but full of energy, and at first glance, he looked remarkably like Miles in three-point shooting.
Everyone in the mourning hall held their breath, even Milo was waiting for a reaction, but Miles's back remained motionless.
The atmosphere was extremely awkward. The old man stood up angrily: "Still being stubborn at a time like this! Do you really think Longjin Financial Health can stay under Dale's name forever? Let me tell you, even if it does, you have to consider your own abilities. Without our support, it's questionable whether it will even fall into your hands!"
The older generation lectured the younger generation, and their words were quite blunt.
“Uncle,” Miles turned around, “you’ve been in Longjin for eleven years now, and you’ve developed a lot of health problems. You’ve done your part, so it’s time for you to enjoy your retirement.” Before the old man could react, Miles slowly added, “The paperwork has been taken care of for you. Go and sign it when the time comes.”
"Miles! When did it become your place to interfere in Longjin's personnel matters!"
Milo was listening intently when suddenly someone moved next to him. He snapped out of his daze and realized it was Jesse.
They were standing the furthest away, and when things got noisy inside, no one paid any attention to them. Perhaps that's why Jesse took the risk.
“The one offering incense is Miles Dale, thirty-five years old this year. He is the only son of the chairman of Longjin Financial Health, but he went out to work on his own several years ago. Now he is doing financial consulting work, and he is doing very well. He is a rising star in Wudong Port and has been on the news. You should have heard of his name.” Jesse said with a touch of emotion, “He hasn’t had any contact with the Dale family for many years. He’s probably here to take over the family business.”
Milo casually asked, "Is it because you didn't have time to write a will?"
Just as Jesse was about to answer, he stopped her, looking at Milo with interest: "Why do you ask that?"
Milo stared blankly and said, "So rich and so old, shouldn't they have made a will in case of emergency? They'd fight over the inheritance if there was no will, that's how it's always portrayed in TV dramas."
Jesse smiled silently: "Reality is far more absurd than TV dramas."
Milo chuckled: "Could it be that the chairman was murdered?"
Jesse smiled and didn't say anything, and Milo wisely didn't press for more information.
In the funeral hall, Miles spoke coldly, "Don't be so confused. If I want the company, at least you'll have a peaceful end. If I don't want it, can you really handle it?"
The other party was so angry that he glared and bristled.
Miles glanced at the group of people behind him: "He's half-buried, yet he's making a scene at a funeral. Isn't that just making a fool of himself?"
The white-haired old man's lips trembled, and he shook with anger: "Miles, don't be so arrogant!"
The crystal chandelier in the funeral hall swayed in the wind, casting fragmented light and shadow on Tate Dahl's portrait.
Miles frowned slightly.
Milo understood that it was his troubled expression. Sure enough, the next second, Miles sat down in front of the group of old employees kneeling on the prayer mats, his long legs crossed, but his words were very impolite: "I originally wanted to save you some face, but now it seems that you are determined to make things ugly."
As Miles finished speaking, the large screen in the center of the funeral hall suddenly switched images.
"Officer Wang, of course I'll increase your commission to 15%. Please call me before the police check the container..." The screen showed a series of fluctuating musical notes, and the man's hoarse voice was clearly audible. Then, a secretly filmed scene was restored using high-definition technology.
Upon seeing his face appear on the screen, the man in the mourning hall turned ashen-faced and couldn't bear the whispers and murmurs.
"Five years ago, you used a cargo ship belonging to one of Longjin's subsidiaries to smuggle ivory into the country for resale. Two years ago, your mistress—no, I should say your daughter-in-law—secretly bought a mansion in London to launder money for you… You've certainly been living a very comfortable life at Longjin all these years."
Miles reached out, and someone handed him a document. He threw it in front of the person and said, "This is the list of smuggled containers at the dock, and the money for your youngest daughter-in-law's house purchase. Take a good look. But if you feel wronged, or if someone else helped you, your uncle must speak up. With so many elders around, we will definitely not let you be wronged."
"This...this is a frame-up! A setup!" the old man cried out, turning to look around, only to find a sea of people below, none of whom were willing to speak up for him. His heart sank; he immediately understood that he had become a chicken to be slaughtered. Miles was ruthless and decisive; he had stepped in to take the fall, and those shady characters below naturally didn't want to confront him directly.
The old man's bottom sank heavily, landing solidly on the prayer mat: "You are a poisonous snake."
Outside the door, two funeral service personnel in suits seized the opportunity to enter and restrain the old man's arms.
Jesse's brow furrowed, but then he heard orders from his superiors through his earpiece, realizing that what he was witnessing was not a vigilante attack, but rather a purge of whistleblowers reported to the official organization.
Milo, observing Jesse's actions with a focused gaze, immediately understood that Miles had come prepared. He wasn't there to offer incense, but to make an example of someone.
Miles stepped forward, bent down to straighten the despairing man's tie, and whispered, "Logically speaking, once bitten by a snake, one should learn to be wary of ropes for ten years. Uncle, you haven't learned anything. Remember to bring enough rheumatism medicine, after all, the sea breeze is strong in Wudong Port Prison."
The farce ended as the old man was dragged out of the mourning hall, leaving several redneck old men looking at each other in bewilderment.
A burst of unrestrained laughter suddenly rang out, clearly inappropriate for a funeral setting.
"It's lively, really lively." A broad-shouldered young man stepped out from the crowd. He was in his early twenties, with short, dyed blonde hair, a black suit jacket with the shirt undone, and brown leather shoes. His arrogant demeanor attracted everyone's attention in a very flamboyant way.
He clapped, and Milo glanced at the tattoo on his hand, her mind going blank.
He was the lover who carried the coffin and had sex in the wild.
"It would have been better to be so clear from the beginning. All this talk of being noble and virtuous is exhausting." The man walked up to Miles. "Just kidding, don't hold a grudge. I'm here today to pay my respects on the old man's orders. Uncle, let's not fight."
Miles didn't give any response.
Milo was engrossed in watching, while Jesse quietly explained to him, "The one speaking is Steven Thornton, the son of the CEO of Lianhua Machinery. He's twenty-four years old this year, and the underground shop of the New Street branch that was smashed belongs to him. However, compared to Miles, this young rich kid from the Thornton family is much more wicked. He has all sorts of methods, controls the family business, and has a lot of romantic entanglements."
Almost as soon as Jesse explained, the young man turned around, and a face came into Milo's view.
He is strikingly handsome with defined features and a slightly wicked air about him. His face is familiar to many, frequently appearing in entertainment headlines.
Milo lowered his eyes, quietly shrank back, and stopped peeking inside.
“I see now, you’re going to take over Long Jin’s business. So how do you plan to settle that score with the New Street branch, you new head of the Dale family?” Steven’s expression was playful as he held up three fingers. “In three weeks, you’ve caused me three incidents. A broken elevator cable, a malfunctioning fire protection system, and a customer stabbing someone, which made headlines and caused my shop’s valuation to plummet. In the end, they came to vandalize it, and your family took the opportunity to buy it back at a low price… What kind of business does that? It’s too underhanded, Uncle, don’t you think so?”
Miles looked at him and said calmly, "For commercial disputes, you can contact Longjin Financial Health's legal department directly."
Steven nodded, a carefree chuckle playing on his lips: "Well, so you can't handle this, huh? Fine, every wrong has its perpetrator, and I won't make things difficult for you. I'll call the real creditor here; I have plenty of debts to settle with him."
Following Steven's location, Milo spotted a row of men in black suits standing behind him, all with bulging waists.
While gun ownership is legal in Lanman, no one would dare to be so blatantly provocative. This shows that the young owner of the Thornton family is indeed reckless.
Milo had already vaguely discerned the main point of today's discussion.
The creditor Steven mentioned should be the person Jesse asked him to infiltrate, and also the person Miles mentioned to him to get close to.
It seems that rye is the main focus of the competition among all parties.
Jesse, who was standing nearby, also noticed that Steven and his group were carrying equipment. He became tense, holding his Bluetooth headset, ready to deal with any unexpected events.
Miles remained unmoved, saying only, "Go ahead and try. I don't have any men to ask you for."
Before he finished speaking, Miles walked straight out.
Wherever he went, the crowd automatically made way for him.
Jesse quickly walked away, and Milo, who had been watching the show outside the door, stood obediently with his head down and remained silent.
Miles walked with the speed of the wind, and Milo didn't think Miles would notice him, but contrary to his expectations, the man in the navy blue suit stopped in front of him.
“Milo,” Miles’s voice rang out, very softly.
Milo raised his head under pressure, but fortunately Miles didn't make a big show of it, so no one was paying attention to them and just assumed that Miles was gazing into the distance.
Do you need money?
Milo glanced at his work clothes, then went along with it with a grunt, offering no explanation for what happened with Jesse.
“Don’t come to places like this again,” Miles said calmly. “Just tell me if you need anything.”
Milo gave a perfunctory response.
As Miles was about to leave, he caught a glimpse of Milo out of the corner of his eye, frowned, and reached out to pluck a strand of spider web from Milo's hair.
The lingering scent of soap on his fingertips, mingled with the smell of rain, brushed past Milo's nose.
"Go back now." The words were cold and serious, almost like an order.
Once the person had walked away, Jesse approached again and asked in surprise, "Did I see that right? Miles was talking to you just now? You two know each other?"
“Yes, he sponsored my college education,” Milo answered frankly.
This time, it was Jesse's turn to feel a little awkward.
Milo didn't seem to think much of it. He'd made it clear when he met Jesse that he was an orphan, dirt poor, and had been able to attend school thanks to a kind businessman's financial support. Jesse knew about the sponsorship, but didn't know the specifics of his relationship with the sponsor. Given Jesse's idealistic worldview, whatever the relationship, he wouldn't even consider a sexual relationship.
With Miles's withdrawal, the tense atmosphere that had been on the verge of conflict seemed to immediately ease.
Jesse lowered his head to adjust his headset, preparing to leave the group. He then informed Milo that they could go home, and many people gradually left the mourning hall.
Steven, who had been humiliated and had nowhere to vent his anger, lifted the white sheet covering the body, and it seemed he really intended to dismember it.
The workers looked ashen-faced. The fat supervisor ordered them to go inside and clean up. Milo tried to slip away, but the supervisor guessed his intention and gave him a good scolding. In the end, he had no choice but to bite the bullet and go inside.
Someone took the blame, and Milo knelt on the ground to tidy up the prayer mats. The supervisor's humble admonitions rang out, and Milo wished he could just bury his face in the ground.
A faint red light suddenly flashed by, and Milo regained his composure, but saw nothing when he looked again. He suppressed his doubts and continued to put away the prayer mat, but a strange unease arose in his heart.
In just three seconds, that ghostly, faint red light reappeared.
This time, Milo understood; the light was coming from the tiled floor.
The halo spread out, as if some light source was shining down onto the tiled floor. It was hard to notice because of the futons on the floor, but the halo could be seen once they were removed.
As the prayer cushions were put away one by one, Milo discovered that the source of the red light was directly facing the bottom of Old Master Dale's coffin.
In an instant, my scalp tingled.
Tick-tock.
A crisp sound, like the ticking of a stopwatch or the meshing of gears, suddenly flashed through Milo's mind like a hallucination, and he suddenly realized the source of his unease.
Milo jumped to his feet, without a second thought or consideration, practically scrambling and shouting, "Run!"
A loud bang rang out almost simultaneously with his sharp shout.
As the heatwave hit, Milo felt like he had been blasted out like a rag doll, crashing into the iron gate with a thud. The pain was so intense that his internal organs felt dislocated. His instinctive instinct to save his life prevented him from running away; he could only curl up to protect his head.
After the loud bang came a burst of gunfire, and the sound of spent shell casings hitting the ground was like a death knell. The windows were shattered, and dust and paper money flew everywhere.
Milo regained some consciousness, thankfully his limbs were all intact. It must have been a small bomb, otherwise he would have been restarted by now.
Chaos erupted in the funeral hall as people fled for their lives, only to be suddenly attacked by a group of gunmen in suits.
The person closest to him was the supervisor. He wasn't physically injured, but his mind seemed to have shut down; he stood there motionless.
Milo wanted to slap himself; his brain told him that escaping was the priority, but his body had already moved to pull people away before he could.
The man was as heavy as a pig, and Milo couldn't move him. He slapped them both hard, finally bringing them back to their senses.
The fat manager screamed. Even though the two of them could have escaped through the door together, he pushed Milo back and squeezed out first.
Unfortunately, a volley of bullets swept towards the gate. Seeing that he couldn't escape, Milo had no choice but to crawl back and find cover to hold his ground.
Sirens wailed outside the mourning hall, and it seemed a gunfight was taking place outside. Through the crack, Milo saw the fat manager who had escaped be riddled with bullets after only a few steps, collapsing into a murky puddle.
Milo looked away, forcing himself not to look.
With a "bang," a small lump of soft flesh mixed with blood exploded at Milo's feet, resembling a small piece of ear.
The screen in the center of the mourning hall was shattered, and the white curtain fell halfway to the ground, riddled with holes.
Several armed men in suits used the coffin as cover to fight back, holding Steven back and covering his retreat.
With Jesse's judgment in mind, Milo thought nothing serious would happen. He assumed that whatever did occur would be a brawl started by the arrogant rich kid from the Thornton family. Unexpectedly, the guy surnamed Shang became the one being hunted down, and the anticipated brawl turned into a bloodbath with corpses strewn everywhere.
Steven's eyes were filled with resentment, half of his face was covered in blood, and his left ear was visibly mutilated by a bullet.
Following their gaze, Milo spotted a tall figure stepping out from over corpses.
Even if he was slow to react, Milo had finally come to his senses.
Someone planted a bomb at the bottom of the coffin in the funeral hall early in the morning. This may be a bloody revenge for a power struggle.
Despite his primal fear of death, Milo finally saw the man's face clearly—the man who existed in the mouths of both the underworld and the legitimate world…Rye.
The blurry face in the photo slowly became clearer in view.
Very young, with sharp features, yet his bright, dark eyes held a chilling innocence. The black tattoo on his right neck was small, resembling thorns or ears of wheat, with splattered blood beads extending downwards, gradually seeping into the white shirt.
He wasn't a stunningly handsome man, but Milo felt that anyone who had seen him would never forget his face, because fear deepens the memory.
Milo's earlier suspicions were correct; the real culprit was the "colleague" he had sided with.
Flashes of light followed, and another burst of ear-piercing gunfire rang out. Steven's group fought and retreated. In the chaos, a bullet struck Rye near the ear, knocking off his earpiece and briefly disorienting him. Steven and his men immediately seized the opportunity to escape.
The entire mourning hall gradually fell silent.
Rye searched for something on the ground, but found nothing. He got up but didn't leave immediately, seemingly unconcerned about the police outside. Stepping on the shattered glass, he calmly replenished his ammunition, cocked the magazine with a click, and emptied it at the corpse in the coffin.
Milo dared not utter a sound.
Wasn't Rye supposed to be working for the Daller family? Then why did he shoot at old Daller's body? This act seems more like an act of venting anger.
The crunching sound of leather shoes stepping on broken glass faded into the distance.
Milo's mind was in turmoil, but his heartbeat gradually returned to normal.
Just when Milo thought the man had left, Rye suddenly stopped, turned around, and almost instantly appeared in front of Milo, grabbing his collar and pulling him out.
Milo felt the most terrifying suppression of his life. The muzzle of the gun was pressed against his neck, and the moment it touched him, goosebumps rose all over his body.
Milo struggled and kicked, finally provoking the other person's annoyance, who grabbed him by the back of the neck and turned him around.
He did not experience the expected pain.
Only the sound of a heartbeat could be heard.
A frantic, helpless heartbeat.
But it's not mine.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
