The Versatile Master Artist

Chapter 302 - 174: New Mission_2

"Miao Angwen, right? Come in."

Each private room in the West River Clubhouse has a different design.

Sometimes, guests would walk out of the antique-style Eastern Study decorated with rosewood and sandalwood, and when they push open the door to the adjacent room, they’re overwhelmed by the Louis XIV opulence of a French palace.

And here in front is a tea house in the Edo Era Japanese style,

A refined middle-aged man has a small stove in front of him, and the smoky mist spills from the purple clay pot, giving the room a layer of moisture.

The bald man stands silently beside the middle-aged man, wearing sunglasses, his muscles bulging under the black suit jacket, like an immovable sculpture or guardian Vajra.

"Hello, Brother Hao."

Miao Angwen cautiously stepped through the door to the private room, looking with awe at one of the most wealthy and powerful elite in Yangon City.

During the Prohibition Era, Al Capone was hailed as the underground Emperor of Los Angeles, similar to Brother Hao.

"Don’t be so tense, take a seat."

Brother Hao smiled and signaled Miao Angwen to sit beside him.

"Want some tea? Japanese green tea, it might be somewhat bitter."

"No, no need."

Miao Angwen tried to show the most well-behaved smile he could muster.

"Alright, I’ll ask you something, you need to answer well. I heard you had a minor disagreement with Gu Weijing at school."

Brother Hao seemed to be just chatting, asking casually.

"Oh, yes, Brother Hao, that’s true."

Miao Angwen was taken aback.

Before he pushed open the door, he’d imagined many scenarios of what Brother Hao would discuss with him.

Whatever it was, it would definitely be serious and important, a "man’s great endeavor."

Gu Weijing?

Miao Angwen never expected Brother Hao would mention this fellow student’s name.

The bald man did communicate that Brother Hao seemed to want Gu Weijing to be invited to his party, but for this matter to warrant Brother Hao’s personal inquiry?

"Yes, but he puts on airs, not too willing to come, so we had a bit of a scuffle." Miao Angwen pouted with some jealousy.

"Is that all, you just invited him to your party?"

Brother Hao said expressionlessly.

Miao Angwen felt an inexplicable tension inside.

He tilted his head like a nervous quail, glancing at the bald man for guidance, but only met with cold sunglasses.

"Yes, that’s just it."

Miao Angwen hesitated, weighing his words.

He felt that since it ultimately didn’t lead to any big incident, he didn’t need to disclose everything.

Bang!

A white porcelain teacup was smashed fiercely into Miao Angwen’s face.

The scalding tea felt like flowing coal, instantly burning his left cheek skin to redness and swelling.

Brother Hao appeared to be just a refined middle-aged man, yet the force in his hand was unmatched by Koukou’s gentle slaps.

The thin-as-paper walls of the white porcelain teacup shattered, cutting Miao Angwen’s lip.

Miao Angwen was struck into a dizzy spin, turning twice, then plunging face-down onto the tea house floor.

"Two things — first, you cannot independently decide to ruin people. Second, you cannot attempt to fool me. The second thing is even more intolerable than the first."

Brother Hao did not fly into a rage.

The middle-aged man still appeared nonchalant, but his tone was as cold as ice.

"Brother Hao, I... I’m sorry..."

Miao Angwen rubbed his cheek, too late to feel pain, as an icy sensation engulfed him.

Brother Hao knew everything.

What he thought was a confidential instruction from the ruffian leader was instantly transmitted to Brother Hao.

In Yangon, Brother Hao is like an omniscient Devil, perpetually watching you from the abyss.

"Apologies are useless. Mistakes must have consequences. Otherwise, how do people grow up?"

Brother Hao continued softly without lifting his head.

He clapped his hands.

The bald man retrieved a gun from the safe on the tea table.

Miao Angwen didn’t even have time to cry out.

The bald man pulled back the hammer, took a step forward, and wordlessly pointed it at Miao Angwen’s head, pulling the trigger.

No matter how much you embellish it,

The underworld will always be a gang controlling hearts through violence and fear; there are no judges, no defense lawyers, no prisons.

Here, you might truly make huge fortunes, but the price for mistakes is a path to death.

God help, Miao Angwen was just eighteen, envisioning the underworld as forever making big money and bedding the most alluring women, a glamorous side.

No one ever showed him this.

The reality of mortal fear immediately crushed him, causing Miao Angwen to lose control incontinent with a trickle.

He uttered a "gurgle," collapsing limply as if his bones were pulled out, sprawling on the ground.

The gun emitted a crisp click without a bullet being fired.

"Absolutely pathetic."

The bald man sneered, flicking the revolver aside, tossing the cylinder onto the fainted Miao Angwen’s lap.

Miao Angwen was soaked with either sweat or pee, gasping like a fish just out of water.

His eyes fixated on the cylinder in his lap - the revolver’s cylinder was empty, with no bullets.

"What young person doesn’t make mistakes? I’ve always been willing to give young people chances, so for a first mistake I let you off, removing the bullets from the cylinder. I hope you remember this lesson."