Chapter 47: Ashes of the Dark River
The rainy season in the Mekong River basin always carries the smell of blood. The three forces have fallen into the most ferocious stalemate, but they don’t know that every step they take is stepping on the blood line that Mo Xiaohan had already drawn.
In the eastern suburbs of Bangkok, the sound of explosions from the Chonburi arsenal pierced the night sky, like the first drumbeat in a carefully choreographed fight.
Haji Omar's gold teeth gleamed in the firelight as he roared and directed his men to set up heavy machine guns on the second floor of the warehouse. Outside the window, Nguyen Van Hung's assassins had surrounded the entire area, the sound of silencers constantly harvesting the lives of his mercenaries.
"Chairman, Ruan Wenxiong's men attacked from the back door!" The adjutant rushed in with blood on his face and reported.
Haji kicked over the ammunition box, revealing C4 explosives with the Nguyen family logo underneath—this was the "seafood" that Zakun had sent. His pupils suddenly contracted, and he suddenly understood something.
"Mo Xiaohan!" He roared like a beast, grabbed the satellite phone and was about to dial.
But it was too late.
Ruan Wenxiong's sniper pulled the trigger, and the bullet passed precisely through Haji's right hand. The satellite phone fell to the ground, and Mo Xiaohan's pre-recorded voice came from the receiver: "Twenty-seven minutes and thirty-six seconds. This is the final countdown of your life."
Haji laughed wildly, raised the burning cigar with his left hand, and pressed it hard on the fuse of the C4 explosives.
"Then let's go to hell together——"
Boom!!!
The entire arsenal was reduced to ruins in the blazing flames. Haji's iconic gold teeth melted in the flames and turned to ashes along with his favorite Cuban cigars.
The main channel of the Mekong River, the "Golden Triangle" cargo ship.
Zakun Wensong's jade ring glowed eerily in the thick smoke. The "seafood crates" stacked in the cargo hold were emitting a colorless, odorless mist—the nerve gas he'd prepared for Nguyen Van Hung, now flowing back through the ventilation system.
On the deck, the confidants had already fallen in a mess, their fingers still in the posture of pulling the trigger.
"President, all the lifeboats have been destroyed!" The first mate knelt on the ground, coughing up blood, and his skin began to fester.
Zakun stumbled into the command room, only to find that all communication devices were playing the same footage - the surveillance showed his cronies kneeling down and pledging allegiance to Nguyen Van Hung, and the timestamp in the corner of the screen showed that it was deeply faked by AI three hours ago.
The freighter suddenly shook violently. The surveillance screen switched to an external view—six speedboats bearing the Mohist insignia were besieging the freighter with incendiary bombs. Standing aboard the lead speedboat was a traitor wearing a Zakun Chamber of Commerce uniform.
"Mo! Xiao! Han!" He smashed the screen with one punch, and the jade ring cracked into a hideous crack.
"Do you think you're the only one who can arrange for an insider?" Mo Xiaohan's voice rang out through the ship's radio. "By the way, your beloved youngest son is in my hands now."
The screen switches to a secret room where Zakun's ten-year-old son is looking at the camera in horror.
"Beast!" Zakun's eyes were bloodshot, and he pulled out his treasured ivory pistol and was about to commit suicide.
But the poison had already eaten away at his nerves. The tycoon, who had controlled the Mekong River smuggling routes for twenty years, finally collapsed, twitching, before his beloved jade screen, watching helplessly as flames engulfed the freighter.
At Sai Kung Pier, a torrential downpour pelted the water, sending up dense sprays. The silhouettes of distant ships were barely discernible in the drizzle.
Ruan Wenxiong's white chrysanthemums had long been wet by the rain. He stood in the shadow, with more than twenty wounded street fighters kneeling behind him.
"Go to Khun Sa in the Golden Triangle." His voice was like sandpaper scraping against the ground. "Tell him that the white chrysanthemums have faded, but the underworld remains."
The dead soldiers kowtowed silently, the blood on their foreheads staining the damp dock ground red. Nguyen Van Hung turned and walked towards a dilapidated fishing boat on the Mekong River. An old man sat on the bow, smoking a pipe, a bronze snake emblem faintly visible under his shirt.
"What do people in the north say?" Ruan Wenxiong asked in a low voice.
The old man exhaled a puff of smoke, and the luster of the bronze badge flashed in the smoke: "The Venerable said...the water of the Mae Sai River should turn red."
When Mo Xiaohan's private armed forces rushed to the shore, the fishing boat had disappeared in the rain and fog, leaving only the crushed white chrysanthemums and a gradually cooling corpse - it was the substitute for the "Ruan Wenxiong" just now.
Far out on the river, the real Nguyen Van Hung took off his silicone mask. As the fishing boat turned into a tributary, he pulled out his satellite phone:
"Let Khun Sa's men get ready as planned."
In the underground command room of the Mo Group headquarters, the fluorescent screen reflected Mo Xiao's cold and hard profile.
"Boss, the body at the dock has been confirmed to be a double." The technician zoomed in on the surveillance footage. "The real one was last seen at Saigon Docks, and his current whereabouts are unknown. The remaining 27 members are gathering in the Golden Triangle to reunite with Khun Sa's remnants. Should we pursue them?"
"No need." Mo Xiaohan turned the silver ring on his finger, and the ring surface flashed a cold light under the light, "Wait until they gather together, and then catch them all in one fell swoop."
The lights in the command room gradually dimmed as he stood up. When the black Maybach rolled over the wet cobblestone road of the Mo Family Manor, the sky was already turning pale.
The morning mist spread over the fountain, washing away the smell of gunpowder from last night until only a faint trace remained. He stood by the pool for a moment, letting the moisture-laden wind brush across his sleeves.
"Miss Ruan has been waiting for you." The housekeeper reported in a low voice, "She fell asleep at three in the morning."
When he pushed open the door to the master bedroom, only the warm yellow light from the bedside lamp remained in the room. Ruan Xingchen curled up in the quilt, tightly clutching the shirt that smelled of him in his arms, his eyelashes trembling slightly in his sleep.
Mo Xiaohan knelt on one knee on the edge of the bed. When he leaned over, his black hair fell down, carrying the coolness of the night dew. His fingertips paused before touching her cheek, and finally just gently brushed away the hair stuck to her lips.
"...Brother Xiaohan?" She opened her eyes drowsily, her voice soft and sleepy.
"It's still early." He chuckled and gently covered her eyes with his warm palms, rubbing the skin under her eyes with his fingertips. "Sleep a little longer."
She rubbed his palm unconsciously, and his warm breath brushed against her. His eyes darkened, and he simply threw back the quilt and lay down, holding her in his arms.
Ruan Xingchen immediately came up to him like a kitten that had found a source of heat, with her forehead resting on his collarbone and her fingertips pinching the fabric on his chest, as if this could confirm that he was really back.
He lowered his head and placed a light kiss on the top of her head. He held her arms tighter, and with his other hand he slowly combed through her long hair. The touch of his fingertips rolling through her hair was as soft as clouds.
The morning mist outside the window is gradually dissipating, and the warmth in his arms is the light that he most wants to hold tightly in his palm after all the storms.
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