Chapter Eighteen: Poisonous Snake
London's shadow is not just one layer.
While the Moonlit Organization, like a raven, lurked in the East End and the docks, expanding its underground territory, another, more ancient, and deeply rooted dark force was slowly casting a scrutinizing and chilling gaze upon its haunted nest adorned with ornate Victorian-era carvings.
BXX organization.
This name may be unfamiliar to ordinary citizens, but within the circles of true power players, it represents a more covert and deadly order.
Its tentacles don't reach into street brawls or smuggling alcohol, but rather entwine themselves in the corridors of Parliament, the City of London Stock Exchange, the high-ranking offices of Scotland Yard, and the deepest aristocratic salons that have been passed down through generations.
Its leader, Ethan Coy, codenamed "Scar Daddy," has a grotesque scar on his face that runs from his brow bone to his jaw. This scar is not from a street fight, but rather a medal left from a failed political assassination attempt, symbolizing the dangerous level of the field he is involved in.
His wife, Lena Kuy, codenamed "Poison Ivy," is known for her skill in manipulating people and concocting rare poisons, and is a chilling strategist within the organization.
BXX's headquarters are hidden underground in a townhouse in the Mayfair district that has a dignified and elegant exterior but is heavily guarded inside.
The air here is a mixture of cigars, aged whiskey, and some expensive perfume, a stark contrast to the smell of steel, sweat, and machine oil at the headquarters of the Sumerian Organization.
The walls are adorned with priceless oil paintings, and the thick carpet absorbs all footsteps, creating a breathtaking tranquility.
At this moment, in a study decorated in deep red tones, with velvet curtains and mahogany paneling, Ethan Cuy is listening to a subordinate's report with his back to the leaping flames in the fireplace.
The subordinate's voice was low and respectful as he spoke about the recent activities of the emerging "Bay Crocodile" organization, Xuyue, in the Eastern District, including its delicate balance with "Jackal" Lian Yeyi's WV organization.
"...Their expansion has exceeded expectations, Scarface. Especially that 'Saltwater Crocodile,' ruthless and disciplined, unlike ordinary street thugs. Even that mad dog Ye Yi chose to compromise, which is very unusual," the subordinate concluded.
Ethan Cuy slowly turned around, his scars appearing even more grotesque in the flickering firelight.
He was about fifty years old, with silver hair, but his eyes were sharp as a hawk's, exuding an air of authority from someone who had long held a high position. "Lian Yeyi isn't stupid; he sensed danger. This 'salt crocodile'... Xu Yue... has she investigated her background?"
"We're still digging deeper. She's very mysterious, like she appeared out of nowhere. But her core members—'Gongyang' Yan Daosi, 'Lu' Muye, and the recently resurgent 'Whale Shark' Xiya—are not easy to deal with. Especially 'Gongyang,' the operating model he's in charge of... is very efficient, and also... very familiar with it." The subordinate carefully chose his words.
"Familiar?" Lina Kui's voice came from the shadows in the corner of the room.
She sat in a high-backed armchair, wearing a dark green dress, a slender cigarette between her fingers. In the swirling smoke, her face appeared both beautiful and dangerous.
"Yan Daosi...is that woman's son? That restless Russian woman named Yan Che." Her tone was calm, yet carried a hint of cold knowingness.
Ethan nodded, a hint of disgust flashing in his eyes. "Looks like the son of a rat knows how to dig a hole. We didn't clean them up completely back then, leaving behind a lingering problem." He walked to the huge desk, tapping his fingers on the smooth surface. "This Xuyue organization can't be allowed to continue. Their methods, their...potential, are starting to interfere with our 'business.' We need to 'prune' them before they truly gain momentum."
“Direct conflict is too costly and would easily attract unnecessary attention.” Lina exhaled a smoke ring and analyzed calmly, “The best way is to dismantle them from within. Find their weaknesses and inject a little… ‘sweet poison’.”
Ethan looked at his wife, a cold smile on his face. "That's exactly what I was thinking. This requires the most delicate touch and the most... ruthless fangs." His gaze shifted to the heavy oak door of the study. "Let him in."
The door was pushed open silently. The figure that walked in seemed somewhat out of place with the luxurious style of the study.
He was very tall, about 180 centimeters, with a slender and well-proportioned figure. He wore an unremarkable dark gray suit, looking like a quiet young clerk in some firm.
However, what is most striking is his hair—an extremely rare, vibrant green like the tender shoots of a new poison ivy, long and straight, contrasting sharply with his unusually pale skin.
His face was young and handsome, but his eyes—also green, but a deeper, colder emerald green—were lowered at the moment, avoiding direct eye contact with anyone in the study, making him appear exceptionally docile, even somewhat timid.
He walked to the center of the study, stopped a few steps away from the desk, bowed slightly, and his posture was so respectful as to be almost humble.
“Mr. Scarface, Mrs. Poison Ivy.” His voice was deep, with a barely perceptible hoarseness, and his tone was calm and even.
This is Morse Black. Within the BXX organization, he has an even more chilling codename—"Dream Snake."
Ethan scrutinized him, his gaze as if assessing a weapon. "Morse, I'm giving you a mission. Target: the Eastern District's Moonlit Organization. We need to understand their core structure, their operating model, especially the weaknesses of their leader, 'Salt Crocodile' Moonlit. More importantly, we need to find an opportunity to weaken them from within, ideally inciting suspicion and division among their core members."
Morse did not answer immediately, his eyes remaining lowered as if he were processing the instructions.
Lena added, her voice as smooth as silk yet chilling: “We’ve noticed they recently recruited a young member, whose codename seems to be related to ‘Butterfly.’ Young people are always more… more easily… seduced by beautiful illusions, and more likely to become a breakthrough point. You can start from there.”
At this moment, Ethan picked up a thin folder from the table and handed it to Morse: "This is preliminary information on the target. Also... according to intelligence, 'Granny' Yan Daosi plays a crucial role in this organization."
When the name "Gongyang Yandaosi" was clearly pronounced, Morse's lowered eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly.
In the depths of his emerald green eyes, something frozen seemed to shatter instantly, flashing a light that was extremely complex and elusive—a light mixed with a deep-seated familiarity, an almost painful longing, and... a ripple of dark energy that was forcibly suppressed.
But he controlled himself perfectly; all his emotional fluctuations vanished instantly, and he returned to his docile and harmless demeanor. He extended his pale, slender fingers and took the folder with steady movements.
"Yes, I understand." Morse's reply remained concise, devoid of any extra emotion.
“You can ask for any resources you need. But the operation must be covert, just like your code name, silent and stealthy,” Ethan emphasized.
“All I need is a suitable identity and a little…bait to get started,” Morse said calmly. “I’ll handle the rest.”
Ethan and Lena exchanged a glance and nodded. They knew about "Dream Serpent's" abilities. He was like a virus that could perfectly mimic and infiltrate the most heavily guarded defenses, or a neurotoxin that could allow someone to die peacefully in the most beautiful dream.
"Go. Don't let the organization down." Ethan waved his hand.
Morse bowed again, then quietly left the study, leaving no trace as he had come.
Leaving the oppressive villa, Morse did not immediately immerse himself in the hustle and bustle of the London streets.
He chose a quiet alley, leaned against the cold, damp brick wall, and slowly opened the folder. He first quickly skimmed through the overview of the Xuyue Organization, his gaze cold and focused, like the most precise scanner.
But when his gaze fell on the page with the photograph of Gongyang Yan Daosi, he slowed down.
The ram in the photo is wearing a well-tailored suit, with his long silver hair tied back. He has a stern face and sharp eyes, and is standing slightly behind Xu Yue, looking like an absolutely loyal guardian.
He was more composed and more...distant than I remembered.
Morse stretched out his pale fingers and gently stroked the face of the ram in the photograph.
In those emerald eyes, the icy facade gradually melted away, revealing a twisted, almost obsessive pain. Fragments of memory pierced her mind like poisonous thorns.
The orderly manor of the Yan family… that silver-haired boy who shone so brightly in the sunlight that he felt ashamed of himself… those childish yet life-changing words: “No name? Then take my surname, Black!”… and Madam Yan Che’s piercing, cold emerald eyes, and the judgment that plunged him into the abyss: “Dao Si is the future blade of the Yan family. A blade doesn’t need its shadow to generate feelings it shouldn’t have. A shadow should remain in the darkness.”
“Doss…” A suppressed, almost sobbing whisper escaped Morse’s throat, filled with endless bitterness and a morbid attachment. He gripped the folder tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.
Why? Why would you rather stay by that woman named Xuyue's side, be her "ram," and guard her order, than ever truly see me, who has always stood in your shadow? I cleaned up all the troublesome garbage for you, bore the filth you didn't want to be tainted by, and even... your surname was given to me by you. But in your heart, what am I? A useful tool? A shadow that can be summoned at any time?
A cold, destructive rage rose within him, intertwining wildly with his indelible love.
Madam Yan Che is right; a shadow should not yearn for the light. But what if... what if the very order upon which you depend for survival, everything you cherish, is utterly destroyed, plunging you into endless darkness? At that point, will you finally see only me? Even if all that remains in your gaze is a deep-seated hatred?
A crazy and desperate plan gradually took shape in his mind. Joining BXX and accepting this mission was not just for power or survival.
It was all for an ultimate, twisted goal—to become an indelible and unforgettable presence in the Ram's life, even if it meant being the most evil and destructive. He wanted the Ram Yan Daosi to "see" Morse Black forever and profoundly.
He closed the folder and carefully put it away. When he looked up again, all the vulnerability and pain in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a chilling, predatory coldness and resolve. He straightened his unassuming suit collar and stepped into the light and shadow outside the alley.
His steps were light and silent, like a real venomous snake gliding through the grass.
Against the grey backdrop of London, his bright green short hair looked like a strange and dangerous cluster of poisonous mushrooms.
He began to sketch in his mind the image of the lurking pawn known as "Little Bee"—sunny, cheerful, naive, and able to easily approach the sensitive "little butterfly." He would personally activate her, turning her into a sweet poison needle injected into the heart of the Xuyue organization.
“A sweet poison…” Morse’s lips curled into a cold, almost ethereal smile. “The game begins, Doss. This time, I will make you… watch me closely.”
The snake had already opened its eyes, and venom was quietly gathering beneath its fangs.
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