The Rat King looked at the "Old Dragon" beside him. Seeing Wei Yenwu's leisurely posture while he himself had been running around like a night owl, he didn't feel much like talking to him.
If anyone else had tried to pull a stunt like this on him, he'd have ground them into mincemeat with his sand long ago.
"Why aren't you home? If your wife found out you were wandering around out here instead of returning, aren't you worried she won't let you through the front door tonight?"
At the Rat King's mocking words, Wei Yenwu's hand paused. A look of genuine dread—as if recalling something terrifying—flickered across his face. Seeing this, the Rat King felt much better. This man had been bothering him for so long; surely he could poke fun at a dragon who was famously afraid of his wife?
"Let's make a deal. Find me a hidden spot to stay for the night, how about it? Just out of the goodness of your heart, help a fellow husband out!"
It wasn't that Wei Yenwu didn't want to go home; it was that he had already foreseen what kind of "food" awaited him tonight. He was intentionally looking for an excuse to stay out late. Though stalling wasn't a permanent solution, for the sake of his taste buds, he planned to just make do somewhere else for the night.
This was why he had come here, hoping his old friend would look at their life-and-death bond and help a brother in need.
"I'm impressed. Did she sniff out your private stash again? I told you your skills were lacking; you don't hide it as deep as I do. Now your wife caught you, didn't she? Let me tell you, when it comes to hiding money..."
The Rat King glanced at the disheveled Old Dragon and immediately guessed what had happened. He enthusiastically began teaching his old friend the "art of hiding cash." Meanwhile, as they walked, Wei Yenwu secretly turned on the recording function on his phone. With just a few flattering words, he'd secured the "blackmail" material for tonight's drinks.
"What exactly did you find out? You seem very satisfied with the results of tonight's action."
Back at the shop, Monique questioned Roy. She wanted to know what intelligence he had extracted that made him so confident. She had wanted to ask the whole way back, but the environment hadn't been right for prying.
"Good news, of course. They told me the secret time and location for when they'll be handing that researcher over to Columbia."
Roy recalled his conversation with the Rat King. He hadn't expected to get such vital intel so easily; it meant he could slack off for the rest of the investigation.
Since the facility had been turned into a sea of fire, finding physical research data was impossible unless they squeezed it out of the researcher's head. However, that plan was discarded—the likelihood of two of them successfully snatching a prisoner from either Lungmen or Columbia was slim. It was far easier to just kill the researcher. That was their bread and butter; he could do that job perfectly with his eyes closed.
"Is the intel accurate? Could there be a trap?"
Monique felt something was fishy. Why would a man who had ruled the underworld for years give specific details about a Columbian transaction to a suspicious Kazimierzian? Just because of his blue hair? Even thinking with a tail, it seemed impossible. The old man wasn't a kindly grandfather giving out candy on the street corner.
"It's accurate. Someone of his status wouldn't play games with us. If they really wanted to get rid of us, why wouldn't they just make us vanish into the night right then and there?"
Recalling the swirling sand around the old gentleman and that cane, Roy estimated that in a real fight, he'd be lucky to survive five rounds.
"He definitely knows what we're here for. The old man—and likely the people behind him—don't want that researcher to survive. That's why he told us."
Roy recalled the genuine disgust in the old man's voice when the subject was raised. He could confirm they didn't want the researcher to live. However, the researcher was Columbian and still held a Level 2 Researcher certification. From a legal standpoint, his extradition back to Columbia was justified.
Furthermore, since his experiments "only" involved Infected, while the situation was heinous, Columbian precedent suggested he'd likely only face life imprisonment. This clearly didn't satisfy the Rat King or his superiors, but for some political reason, they had been forced to agree to the transfer.
"So, we're being used as their blade?" Monique frowned. She hated the feeling of being a tool, which was exactly why she had climbed so hard to reach the rank of Lazurite. Though she still had the Committee and the Darksteel above her, she at least felt more like a wielder of tools than a tool herself.
"Just being used as a blade! We've been blades for how long now? Haven't you gotten used to it? Besides, they get what they want, and we finish our mission. It's a win-win!"
Roy was far more open-minded about it. Whose tool you were didn't matter as long as the mission got done. This was also born from the realization that he was outmatched on foreign turf. He swore he wouldn't take a mission like this again; it was far too passive.
"Fine. When is the agreed date?"
Monique sighed, seemingly accepting Roy's logic.
"Three days from now. At a wasteland outside Lungmen. Looking at the photos, there's a perfect spot for sniping."
Roy had checked the coordinates on a map and found a flawless sniper nest that seemed almost pre-prepared. It was so perfect that Roy wondered if the Darksteel had contacted them beforehand without telling him.
"So you gave them the location?"
In a secluded room, Wei Yenwu and the Rat King were discussing the same topic.
"We were planning to snipe those people anyway. If someone's willing to help, why not let them?"
The Rat King looked at the man who had just pulled out a bottle of his own prized collection. He cursed his luck in friends, though he was glad he'd taken precautions. The fine wine they were drinking had been bought by both of them; Wei Yenwu was just drinking his own share that the Rat King had hidden for him.
Regarding the upcoming prisoner exchange, a flash of killing intent appeared in the Rat King's eyes. How could he let those people go after they turned Lungmen's underworld into a foul mess? Did they think he lived on nothing but lamp oil?
"We already confirmed it, didn't we? There is no possibility of those two leaving alive," Wei Yenwu said, referring to the researchers.
He said this because of the "tattoos" that had suddenly appeared on the researchers' bodies—tattoos that would eventually become the key to their deaths. Previously, some individuals linked to Ursus had tried to flee after hearing rumors of trouble. Once they were a certain distance from Lungmen, they had inexplicably burst into flames and turned to ash.
It didn't belong to any known Originium Art, and their subordinates detected no energy fluctuations. After several "experiments," they confirmed that anyone with those tattoos would catch fire once they reached a certain distance from the city.
The two researchers currently in custody had those same tattoos, and the color was even darker.
"Hmph, just a precaution. I don't want those bastards leaving after making such a mess of Lungmen." The Rat King's mood soured. He downed his glass in one gulp and then turned to Wei Yenwu. "And what about you? I don't believe the pressure from two nations would make you hand them over so willingly. That's not the Wei Yenwu I know."
At this, Wei Yenwu's gaze darkened. He didn't answer, simply sitting there and drinking glass after glass of the expensive wine as if it were cheap rotgut.
"I'm sorry, Old Lin," Wei Yenwu finally spoke after a long silence. "I can't talk about it."
In his eyes, there was a flicker of helplessness—as if he were being toyed with by fate itself.