"A distinguished guest?" He scoffed, drawing out the last syllable. "Him?"
Before he could finish speaking, no one saw how he moved.
There was a muffled thud, and the sharp whistling of the bullet piercing the air made one's eardrums ache.
Before the Nanjing official's expression of shock and anger could fully form, a dark red flower of blood bloomed on his chest.
He opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to reveal his identity and reprimand him, or perhaps beg for mercy, but only a hoarse, leaky sound came from his throat. His tall body swayed, then crashed to the ground like a broken log, the gold buttons on his military uniform instantly soaked in blood.
Miyata Takejiro gasped and stumbled back half a step, bumping into the back of the chair.
Chairman Luo's legs went weak, and he almost slumped back into his chair. His hand, pointing at Cheng Muyun, trembled like a leaf, and he couldn't even utter a complete sentence: "You...you're insane! Do you know whose people he works for?!"
Cheng Muyun blew away the gunpowder smoke from the muzzle, his eyes as cold as ice: "I know. But now, he's dead."
Cheng Muyun's gaze shifted from the corpse on the ground, slowly sweeping over Chairman Luo, whose face was deathly pale, and Miyata Takejiro, whose fists were clenched. His black leather shoes rolled across the table, crushing a plate of delicate desserts into a pulp.
"Next, whose score should we settle?" he said slowly, the muzzle of the gun rising and falling with his gaze, as if he were weighing an insignificant object.
At this moment, Cheng Muyun was like a demon emerging from hell, whose bloodshot eyes would drag anyone who looked down into hell.
Cold sweat trickled down Chairman Luo's temples, his obese body trembling like fat meat in the autumn wind: "Cheng... Muyun, let's talk this out. I was confused, I was blinded by greed..."
He stammered an explanation, frantically reaching for the checkbook in his pocket, "I shouldn't have interfered in your affairs with Yunqiao."
Cheng Muyun scoffed and pointed the gun sharply at Chairman Luo, "Shut up."
Cheng Muyun's voice was as cold as ice. Before Chairman Luo's cries could even fall to the ground, he slightly lowered his wrist, and the gun barrel had already been turned around.
"Bang--"
Gunshots rang out in the enclosed banquet hall, shaking the crystal chandelier.
Chairman Luo felt a piercing pain in his right leg, as if a red-hot iron had scalded his flesh and bone.
He let out a miserable howl, his obese body suddenly slumped down like a pile of mud, his lower back slammed against the chair leg, and he squatted heavily on the carpet.
Blood gushed from between his short, fat fingers, instantly soaking through his dark trousers and spreading a large, glaring red stain on the carpet, along with the spilled wine, creating a filthy mess.
"It hurts...it hurts so much..." He was in so much pain that his whole body was convulsing. His once oily face was now scrunched up, the fat was squeezed together, and a liquid that was hard to tell whether it was tears or sweat was streaming down his face, covering his loose eye bags.
He tried to stand up by supporting himself on the table, but as soon as he exerted force, it felt like countless needles were piercing his leg wound at the same time. The pain made his vision go black, and he could only cover the wound tightly. His knuckles turned white from the force, and he made a hoarse breathing sound, looking like a fat pig that had been pierced through.
Cheng Muyun looked down at him, his black leather shoes barely touching the bloodstain.
He tapped his knee lightly with the barrel of his gun, his tone devoid of any pity: "Didn't Chairman Luo say that I, Cheng Muyun, have stumbled? Now I'll let you taste what it feels like to fall and get hurt."
Chairman Luo was in so much pain that he could barely speak, only whimpering incoherently. The smugness in his eyes when he looked at Cheng Muyun was gone, replaced by fear and pleading, like a dying fish writhing futilely on a chopping board.
Miyata Takejiro's face was ashen, his hand under his kimono gripping his pistol tightly, yet he dared not make a move—the guards behind Cheng Muyun had already pointed their guns at him, and the dark muzzle of the gun was more convincing than any other threat.
He took a deep breath, suppressing his anger: "Mr. Cheng, there may be a misunderstanding between us. I did not kill Miss Xu..."
"Misunderstanding?" Cheng Muyun interrupted him, his eyes suddenly sharp. "Fine, as long as you can bring my wife back to life, I won't pursue the matter."
Miyata Takejiro trembled all over. Cheng Muyun dared to kill even high-ranking officials from Nanjing, let alone him.
Cheng Muyun suddenly lifted his foot and jumped off the table. His black leather shoes made a sticky sound as they stepped into the bloodstains on the carpet.
When he reached Miyata Takejiro, he squatted down and pressed the muzzle of his gun against the man's knee: "I've heard that Mr. Miyata is quite skilled in the tea ceremony. I wonder if you can still kneel and brew tea with only one leg?"
Miyata Takejiro froze, veins bulging on his forehead, but he gritted his teeth and refused to utter a sound.
"Cheng Muyun!" Chairman Luo suddenly screamed, "You can't touch him! He's Japanese, killing him will cause a diplomatic incident!"
Cheng Muyun turned to look at him, his eyes looking at him like he was an idiot: "Dispute? From the day you colluded with foreign enemies and tried to kill Zhuohua, it was a dead end."
He pulled the trigger, and with a soft "click," the gun went empty.
Miyata Takejiro breathed a sigh of relief, but was then hit on the side of his face by the butt of Cheng Muyun's gun, causing his nose to bleed profusely.
"Don't be nervous." Cheng Muyun slowly straightened up, took out a white handkerchief embroidered with a dark pattern from his pocket, and slowly wiped the bloodstains splattered on the butt of the gun.
The dark red blood droplets were absorbed by the fabric, leaving several winding streaks. He casually tossed the handkerchief on the ground, his voice flat and emotionless, "Dying too quickly, you got off easy."
As soon as he uttered the last word, the guards behind him pounced on him like tigers.
The thick hemp rope flew through their hands, and with a few "whoosh" sounds, they twisted Chairman Luo and Miyata Takejiro's arms behind their backs and tied them tightly. The knots were so deep that they almost embedded themselves into their flesh.
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