Sacrifice knife
Gangu, Maca Town.
Xigong lay on the hospital bed, his face ashen, his thighs wrapped in thick white bandages and braces, resting heavily on the mattress like a piece of lifeless rotten wood.
The ward door slid open silently, and Blaise walked in, carrying a glass of water and a small medicine box. His expression was as indifferent as ever. He closed the door behind him, his gaze sweeping over Sigon's leg, which was wrapped up tightly.
Sigon stared blankly at the ceiling, the doctor's words still echoing in his mind.
"The bullet fragments severely damaged the spinal cord nerve bundles. This damage is irreversible, which means that you will completely lose the function below your waist in the future, that is, permanent high-level paraplegia."
High-level paraplegia, permanent damage... these words repeatedly pierced his consciousness. The future? Did he still have a future? A useless person who couldn't even sit up on his own? The beeping of the electrocardiogram monitor suddenly became incredibly shrill.
Blaise silently took a few pills from the medicine box and handed them to Sigon along with a glass of water.
Sigon took it, his murky gaze falling on Blaise's face: "The guy you chased after last time, the one who tried to assassinate me, you said you killed him outright?"
Blaise nodded.
"The body fell into the Chira River and was swept away?"
Seeing Blaise remain silent, Sigon, holding his glass in both hands, sighed: "I heard you went to see Apa. How's that kid doing now?"
Blaze took his phone out of his pocket, the screen lit up with a cold light, and his fingers tapped rapidly on the screen. A few seconds later, a cold, emotionless synthesized electronic voice suddenly rang out in the ward, "Still on an antidote drip."
Seeing Blaise remain silent, Sigon held the glass with both hands, the water inside swirling slightly. His gaze slowly moved downwards, finally noticing Blaise staring at the sacrificial knife on the altar in his room.
A violent cough suddenly gripped Xigong, his shoulders trembled, and the veins on his neck bulged. It took a while for the cough to subside.
“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how I got this knife.” Xigong pointed, his thin fingers trembling slightly, a complex light flashing in his cloudy eyes. “That was a long time ago. I was only a teenager then, and your mother was even younger. General Pengsa was in power at the time. He launched a coup, and the upper echelons of Gan Valley were ordered to be hunted down. My family members were all killed, and I fled with your mother, being chased by those people until we reached Aplin.”
"Back then, there were still some cenotaphs and altars in the rainforest. I pulled this knife out from a private altar and stabbed it into the stomach of a pursuer. The blood splattered all over my face—it was hot and smelly. The man's intestines were spilling out onto the ground, and I was terrified. In the end, it was your mother who was brave. Such a small child, yet she dared to pull out the knife, wipe it clean, and hold back her tears. So, with that knife in hand and your mother by the hand, we fled and fled until we finally escaped."
"Later, your mother grew up, went abroad to study, and lived a stable life. She read more books and gradually forgot those bloody days. Actually, I know in my heart that she hated those days and hated us, the people living in Ganzhou. Only I remember this knife. After your mother passed away, I followed her wishes and had her buried in a tree. After that, no one around me remembered the origin of this knife. I guess it's because people get old, and the older they get, the lonelier they feel. Sometimes I think about the past, about this knife, about my little sister, and then about you."
“Kid, you’re actually a lot like Suma, you know? When you’re arguing, your eyebrows furrow and your faces turn serious. I can tell just by looking at you that you won’t listen to a word I say.”
Blaze's gaze fell on Sigon's face, his knuckles whitening slightly from gripping the water glass tightly.
Sigon's gaze shifted from the hilt of the knife to Blaise's face. He smirked, "I've always remembered. The first time you argued with me was because of that snake you kept as a child. I made you kill it because I was afraid you'd become too fixated on something, too stubborn, afraid you'd repeat your mother's mistakes. But later, you stopped believing in Buddhism, got tattoos, ran between Gan Gulanman and other places, got entangled in an ambiguous relationship with that man, and even threatened me with a gun for him... In any of those instances, did I truly stop you, or truly blame you?"
Blaise listened in silence.
“Gangu’s burden is too heavy. What I’ve given you is the greatest freedom I can offer within my capabilities.”
After saying this, Sigon seemed to have exhausted all his strength, his head sinking deep into the pillow, his cloudy eyes still fixed on Blaise. As he looked, he felt his own uncontrollable aging in such a young body, and he saw the resemblance of Suma in her former features. Overwhelmed by sadness and reminiscence, his eyelids drooped.
A brief silence followed, broken only by the sound of the electrocardiogram monitor.
"Did you let the person who killed me go?" Xigong closed his eyes slightly and said calmly, "That so-called mole, is it that little girl Nonai?" Not hearing a response, Xigong opened his eyes and unconsciously shook his head, "I should have thought of that sooner, she can't be tamed."
Blaze reached into his pocket and pulled out a clear vial.
Sigon's throat bobbed: "What is this?"
"You know," a cold, electronic voice slowly spoke, "the thing that killed Suma."
Xigong's body stiffened abruptly, a storm raging deep within his cloudy eyes. He pressed his chapped lips tightly together, his jawline taut.
The electronic voiceover was a merciless narration: "You found Pomlason and bought the drugs. You contacted Miles and had him inject them. The night I carried her to the hospital was when she was under the influence of the drugs, and the next day, the Richard Green family crashed. You used this method to transfer the patent to me and start making money. You also had Miles operate to transport Suma's body back to Tenbon, and Pomlason secretly handled everything for you, making all the evidence disappear."
The electronic mechanical voice spoke this long string of words intermittently and without emotion.
Xigong's face changed from ashen to a deathly pale.
Blaze took a step forward, closer to the bedside, his electronic voice carrying a cold, penetrating force, "You used Apa, ruined him with drugs, just to make him an obedient tool, a bargaining chip for you to control another bloodline in Gan Valley, just like me."
Xigong's expression changed, and his voice rose: "Are you questioning me? Is that Green family brat spouting nonsense to you again? Everything I've done is for you, for the future of Gan Valley! Some things are unavoidable but necessary. If everyone thought like you, Gan Valley would have been devoured by those people long ago!"
"You're lying." The electronic voice was almost inaudible. "The future of Gangu is not built on the lives of countless people, nor is it a stepping stone for you to rise to power."
Sigon's breathing became heavy and rapid, the waveform on the electrocardiogram monitor began to fluctuate violently, and even his cloudy eyes were turned red by Blaise's calm retort.
Why is the ward so quiet tonight? Why is Chachai, who should be guarding the door, not making a sound? That's right, Chachai, who was supposed to go to Taran with him, has fallen ill. Now that I think about it, Chachai has probably been staying in Gangu to make arrangements.
Token, who was shot dead? His leg, paralyzed by gunshot? The disrupted land trade? Pomrasong and Miles, who were questioned and distanced by General Zowin due to the unexpected situation? Blaise, who was granted waterway escort authority for his good performance? One by one, everything is now clear.
There was shock, but even more so, there was trembling. It felt like a beast that had been raised for over twenty years had suddenly gained human nature and was now trying to take over, baring its fangs and claws to kill its master.
Sigon opened his mouth, but could only squeeze out a few broken, hoarse, and incoherent syllables from deep in his throat. He suddenly realized that he had no strength left in his body.
When did this happen?
Sigon's gaze shifted to the glass of water Blaze had handed him, staring at Blaze in disbelief.
Blaise stood up abruptly, tossing aside his phone. He opened the box, took out an unopened syringe, drained the clear liquid, and calmly watched large droplets of water emerge from the needle tip.
Xigong's lips moved slightly: "You dare?"
Blaze stared calmly at Sigon, the overexposed incandescent light making the black tattoo on his neck appear particularly somber and chilling.
Those dark eyes were devoid of emotion, but Sigon detected a sinister glint in them.
Yes, even at this point, what wouldn't he dare to do? It's just patricide; it's a fine quality passed down through the Natawa family.
Blaise calmly pushed the contents of the syringe into the IV drip, didn't look at Sigon again, and turned to leave.
Xigong stared intently at the departing figure, his lips trembling, unable to utter a complete sentence. The beeping of the electrocardiogram monitor sounded distant and distorted to him, like noise from another world.
The door opened from the inside, smoke billowing from the entrance. Chachai stubbed out his cigarette and glanced inside: "Is he dead?"
Blaise looked up wearily, but did not respond.
Seeing Blaise's expression, Chatchai silently took a cigarette from his pocket and handed it to him.
It wasn't until the tobacco burned and the rich aroma filled his nostrils that Blaze realized why Milo had started smoking later. It was because he was in so much pain; his pent-up emotions had no outlet. With sexual desire being torture rather than release, he still had to maintain a respectable facade. So, pretentious smoking became the only option. Some might see it as a display of sophistication befitting someone in a position of power.
But he didn't like it. He hated the smell of smoke. And he didn't need it to numb reality.
Blaise frowned, stubbed out his cigarette, and turned to look at Chatchai: He won't die now.
Chachai frowned, the words stuck in his throat.
Blaise, however, seemed to know what he was going to say: If he were dead, Zowin would be suspicious.
Chatchai glanced inside again, and understood somewhat. He wouldn't die, but he wouldn't live well either. Being paralyzed wasn't enough; his brain had to be completely destroyed to peacefully become a living Buddha. Blaise had most likelyn't injected a sufficient amount of maca. Although he didn't know exactly what it was, given the current situation, this approach was clearly more ruthless and heartless. Chatchai thought this, but showed no outward reaction.
Not far away, Hersey, dressed neatly, was already waiting at the door, silently watching this way.
Blaise looked at Chatchai and asked: Has the departure time of the cargo ship been confirmed?
“The day after tomorrow.” Chatchai nodded, then added, “Our men have infiltrated the stevedores, and the cargo is already on board. Miles’s men are very cautious; we don’t know yet whether he himself will board the ship. Based on his past practices, I suspect he’s unlikely to take the risk. As for Ponglasong, I’ve already contacted the secretary to the Minister of the Interior of the Tenbang government. The government special forces will close in before Ponglasong departs for the dock. The minister’s secretary doesn’t completely trust us. After all, Sigon has always been inclined to befriend the Zowin faction. Although the drug destruction will be a fatal blow to Zowin, which benefits them, they’ve only promised to do the cleanup work, to publicly secure Ponglasong as a scapegoat. They won’t actually help with the actual process.”
Blaise nodded.
"Even if this batch of drugs is destroyed, it will only temporarily stop the drug trafficking chain from breaking out. The one who comes to power in the future may not be Zowin, and the newly developed patent may be better than the one from the Green family. In this position, no matter which faction comes to power, some of their policy proposals to resist drug trafficking and crack down on human trafficking are just empty words. In reality, you have to cooperate with them. Sooner or later, these things will come back again. Do you intend to do this again and again?"
Blaise looked at Chatchai: Why should we cooperate with them?
Chatchai was stunned, and it took him a long time to recover: "What do you want to do?"
Blaise looked into the distance: Choose a partner that you can't control in the Gan Valley.
Chacha belatedly realized: "So, the reason Nonai disappeared for so long was because you sent him to watch over him? You had already planned to erase all traces of the pharmaceutical factory before getting Milo to invest in Tiannvlei in Gan Valley again? You planned to have his company take over the production of the new drug, thereby completely breaking away from the control of the Tengbang government?"
As he spoke, Chachai was slightly startled.
He suddenly realized that, of the companies that Miluo had acquired, there was Lianhua Machinery in Lanman, a valuable asset, and a biological research and development branch stationed in Wanyang. If Miluo agreed, they might not really need to build a factory in Gangu. As long as they didn't build a factory, there would be fewer political obstacles, and their existing resources could fully ensure the safety of raw material transportation.
This idea had never been implemented before. It was partly because Xigong was unwilling to entrust such a large amount of trust to another company, and partly because Suma was taking too big a step. Suma wanted to establish a completely self-sufficient system in a short period of time, which was completely impossible for Gangu at present.
Blaise's idea is conservative and moderate enough, but the key question is, would Milo be willing to accept it?
This man went through countless hardships to reclaim his patent rights and went to great lengths to kill all the perpetrators of the Glenn family massacre. Not long ago, Blaise even shot him. Under these circumstances, isn't it a pipe dream to talk about cooperation with that shrewd businessman?
Unless, these two people have been acting all along?
Cha frowned, unsure how much of Blaise's affection for Milo was genuine. He felt Milo was very resistant to Blaise, yet there was something strange about that resistance. He hoped Milo's feelings for Blaise were entirely feigned; that way, once everything was over and the tables were turned, from a purely transactional standpoint, there was still a possibility of cooperation between Gan Valley and Green Contract Company. But if genuine feelings had taken root, things might not be so easy.
What puzzled Chatchai even more was that Blaise seemed quite confident about the feasibility of this collaboration. This confidence either stemmed from his certainty that Milokken would comply with him—which, given the current situation, was unlikely unless the sun rose in the west—or from Blaise's genuine belief that Milokken would make the same choice and reinvest the patent in a more valuable area.
What is this called? Shared ideals? Like Richard Green and Suma back in the day?
This idea made Chatchai break out in a cold sweat.
While Chatchai was still thinking, Blaise had already started walking forward, heading away alongside Hessai.
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