Chapter 13 His Hell, Imprisoned His Light
—His light fell into his hell, and he knew it not.
"Dark Night" is not an ordinary trading place. It is the most secretive and luxurious den of money in Southeast Asia, an underground palace where the powerful use money to buy "living works of art", and the last brightly lit hell that countless girls have seen before they disappear.
The "goods" here are never circulated publicly. Only VIP customers who receive black gold invitations are eligible to step into the gilded gate plated with hellfire.
And its owner is Mo Xiaohan.
However, he never cared where these "goods" came from or where they went. "Dark Night" was just an insignificant part of his vast business empire, and he couldn't even remember when he acquired this trading venue.
Those dirty, bloody, and disgusting details were naturally handled by his subordinates. He only needed to look through the account books every quarter to confirm that the numbers were good enough.
Whenever his subordinates timidly handed him the auction list, he would just glance at it coldly and sign it, as if it was just an insignificant purchase order.
The largest black industry network in Southeast Asia, arms, casinos, population... every dirty river of money will eventually flow into his empire.
He never asked about details, just like the emperor would not care where the chickens and ducks in the imperial kitchen were caught. He only needed to ensure two things:
First, the money must flow into his account cleanly.
Second, don't let dirt get on his shoes.
As for those trafficked girls?
It's just a string of numbers on a transaction list.
Anyway, there are so many dirty things in this world.
For seventeen years, Mo Xiaohan has become accustomed to using cruelty and coldness to fill the emptiness in his heart.
Ruan Xingchen woke up in a biting cold. Her wrists and ankles were locked with iron chains. She was only wearing a thin white cotton skirt and was shivering with cold.
There were no windows in the cell, only a pale light bulb hanging above the head, which made people's eyes sore. Iron cages were lined up along the mottled walls, and the rusty railings looked particularly hideous under the light.
"Newcomer?" In the corner, a skinny girl raised her head, her voice hoarse. Her left eye was swollen and closed, and her exposed skin was covered with bruises. She was looking at her from the cage diagonally opposite.
Ruan Xingchen didn't answer. She tightly grasped the ring on her left ring finger, trying to clear her mind. Her stomach was aching. There was something wrong with that glass of juice.
"Where is this?" she asked hoarsely.
The girl's cracked lips revealed a smile uglier than crying: "'Dark Night', the most expensive livestock market in Southeast Asia."
Suddenly, footsteps were heard outside the door, and the girl shrank into a ball instantly.
The iron gate was pushed open, and two masked men dragged in an unconscious girl and threw her in the corner like garbage.
"Number 37, tonight's 'appetizer.'" One of them kicked the girl in the waist. "The management said, if you break it, just bury it in the back mountain."
Ruan Xingchen bit his lips tightly, and the taste of blood spread in his mouth.
She finally understood her situation.
Lin Miaomiao lied to her and Qin Lang was a human trafficker.
And she became a "commodity" for sale.
At the same time, in the tallest penthouse office in Bangkok, Mo Xiaohan was listening to his subordinates reporting on the quarterly financial report.
He leaned back on the leather sofa, swaying his wine glass carelessly, his fingertips stroking the ring on his left hand, his eyes fixed on the night outside the floor-to-ceiling window. The city beneath his feet was bright and beautiful during the day, but filthy and dirty at night.
"Casino profits increased by 30%, two new shipping lines were added, and as for 'Dark Night'..." The chief financial officer flipped through the documents, "Last week's transaction volume broke records. A Russian oligarch bought twins—"
"I told you," he said, putting down his glass, his voice so soft it was chilling, "don't bother me with such trifles."
The butler's grip on the document suddenly tightened. He hurriedly lowered his eyelashes and explained with a hint of panic in his tone, "I'm sorry, Boss. It's just that the goods received from Dark Night recently are of exceptional quality, and several buyers are rushing to raise the price. I thought... I thought you might want to know the market price..."
Seeing this, A-Tai, who was standing nearby, immediately stepped forward and, smiling, smoothed things over. "It's just his old habit. Seeing profits double, he couldn't help but want to share the good news with you. We have someone specifically looking after things at 'Dark Night,' so I wouldn't bother you with any of that."
He changed the subject, took two steps closer, and lowered his voice: "By the way, Boss, we need more people over at 'Dark Night'. Last week, a 'cargo' was run away and was killed by the patrol."
Mo Xiaohan didn't even raise his eyelids: "Just clean it up."
This vast dark empire operated with precision, with dedicated personnel responsible for every aspect. He only needed to sit on the throne and wait for the endless flow of wealth and power.
What he didn't know was—
His light is now imprisoned in the hell he created with his own hands, waiting for a redemption that will never come.
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