362: Chapter 362 Your rules are not my rules

Chapter 362: Your Rules Are Not My Rules. "Cleaning up trouble?"

Chen Mo repeated those four words, his expression unchanging.

He didn't even look back at the mercenaries pointing their guns at him, instead watching The Banker's face, which had regained a sense of control, with great interest.

"You mean, using these people?"

The Banker straightened his back, his previous loss of composure seemingly a mere illusion. He reassumed his elite banker persona, brushing non-existent dust off his suit.

"They aren't ordinary mercenaries, Chen Mo. They are 'Scavengers,' and they only take orders from me. Every one of them has at least a double-digit body count."

He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

*Click.*

The synchronized sound of bolts being racked echoed sharply through the luxurious clubhouse.

Su Qingxue and Jiang Hong immediately stood back-to-back, shielding 404 in the center, forming a solid defensive formation.

Nightingale was like a cheetah ready to pounce, her body low, twin blades sliding into her palms. Her eyes moved rapidly between the dozen or so muzzles, calculating the optimal path for a charge.

"You destroyed the Emperor's 'Perfect Vessel,' turning twenty years of his hard work into ash. He must be itching to grind your bones to dust right now."

The Banker walked unhurriedly behind the bar and poured himself another glass of whiskey. The ice clinked against the glass with a crisp sound.

"And I, as long as I deliver your head to him, can not only make up for my failures but also secure the best chips in the new round of power reshuffling."

He raised his glass, gesturing toward Chen Mo from afar.

"So, Chen Mo, thank you for coming to me. Your death will be the best stepping stone for my meteoric rise."

Su Qingxue's heart sank to the bottom.

She looked at Chen Mo's oversized trench coat, which seemed so thin under the aim of over a dozen automatic rifles.

"Chen Mo, we..."

Just as she was about to speak, Chen Mo raised his right hand, making a slight downward gesture to silence her.

Chen Mo's gaze finally shifted away from The Banker's face. As if noticing the surrounding mercenaries for the first time, he scanned them slowly.

"Scavengers? Nice name."

He took two steps forward, his leather shoes making no sound on the soft wool carpet.

This movement made every mercenary's nerves tighten, their index fingers pressing firmly against the triggers.

"You think you've got me?"

Chen Mo stopped and looked back at The Banker.

The Banker took a sip of his drink, his face filled with the composure of someone who held all the cards.

"Otherwise? Do you think that iron arm of yours can block a simultaneous barrage from over a dozen rifles?"

Chen Mo smiled.

He reached out with his black-gloved left hand and slowly removed the glove.

The liquid metal arm, shimmering with a dark metallic luster, was exposed under the crystal chandelier's light, exuding a violent beauty that transcended the era.

"Whether this arm can block bullets, I don't know."

Chen Mo flexed his metal fingers, the joints making subtle mechanical friction sounds.

"But I know that before you can order them to fire, it can crush your throat first."

The Banker's smile froze, and he instinctively touched his neck.

"You're bluffing. There are ten meters between us, plus my most elite guards."

"Is that so?"

Chen Mo's gaze passed over The Banker, looking at the massive floor-to-ceiling window behind him.

"From here to where you're standing is ten meters. For me to rush over, it takes 1.3 seconds. For your 'Scavengers,' from receiving the order to pulling the trigger, the neural reflex takes 0.2 seconds, muscle movement takes 0.1 seconds, and the firearm discharge takes 0.03 seconds."

He recited the precise numbers one by one. His voice wasn't loud, but it struck everyone's heart like a heavy hammer.

"Before the bullets even leave the barrels, I have one second of absolute time. Guess if that second is enough for me to kill you?"

The Banker's hand holding the glass began to tremble slightly.

The man before him wasn't making a threat; he was stating a cold, hard fact.

That precise calculation of time and death sent a chill deep into his bones.

"You... you think I wouldn't dare to take you down with me?"

"You don't dare."

Chen Mo's answer was categorical.

"Because you're more afraid of death than anyone. How could someone who built their office like a tortoise shell have the courage to go down in flames?"

"Furthermore..."

Chen Mo shifted his tone, lowering his voice with a strange, piercing quality.

"You still haven't found the 'Imprint' left by the scribe, have you?"

*Boom!*

The word "Imprint" exploded in The Banker's mind like a thunderbolt.

The color drained from his face instantly. For the first time, those calculating eyes revealed pure, animalistic terror.

"What... what nonsense are you talking about! I don't know anything about an Imprint!"

His voice became shrill with fear, even cracking.

"You don't know?"

Chen Mo laughed softly, as if he had heard something hilarious.

[Heart Voice Eavesdropping] had already been activated when he entered the room, consuming his remaining sin value.

The Banker's deepest fears were now playing in his mind like a high-definition movie on loop.

"Then let me guess."

Chen Mo took a step forward, his overwhelming presence instantly enveloping The Banker.

"That Imprint probably has something to do with your late father, right? He was one of the earliest members of Tartarus and the most loyal follower of the scribe."

The Banker's body swayed, and the whiskey glass fell onto the carpet with a thud, the expensive liquid soaking a small patch of the floor.

He looked at Chen Mo as if he were seeing a ghost.

This information was top-secret, something even the Emperor didn't know!

It was his family's greatest secret and the final card that allowed him to maintain his position in the organization!

Chen Mo didn't stop.

He continued in a tone so calm it was cruel, tearing through The Banker's psychological defenses word by word.

"The Emperor only knows your father died of illness, but he doesn't know that he was silenced by another group looking for the 'Imprint' while he was trying to protect its secret."

"And you, inheriting your father's position, also inherited this secret. While laundering money for the Emperor, you've been using all your resources to find those killers and take back what belongs to your family."

"Am I right?"

The Banker's mouth hung open, his throat making wheezing sounds like a broken bellows, unable to utter a single word.

He felt as though all his disguises had been stripped away by this young man, leaving him exposed and naked in the sunlight.

Su Qingxue, Nightingale, and the others were all stunned.

They had no idea what Chen Mo was talking about, but they could clearly see that the previously arrogant Banker was now slumped by the bar like a spineless dog.

The situation had undergone a complete reversal that no one had anticipated.

"It seems I guessed correctly."

Chen Mo stepped forward, looking down at him.

"So, do you still want to 'clean up' this trouble that is me?"

The Banker snapped his head up, his eyes bloodshot. He looked at the surrounding mercenaries, who were equally bewildered, and began to roar like a madman.

"Lower your guns! Everyone, put your damn guns down!"

"Boss?"

The mercenary captain in the lead looked confused.

"I told you to lower your guns! Didn't you hear me!"

The Banker roared hysterically, grabbing an empty wine bottle from the bar and smashing it onto the floor.

The mercenaries exchanged glances and finally lowered their weapons slowly.

In the vast clubhouse, only the sound of The Banker's heavy breathing remained.

Trembling, he held onto the bar and looked at Chen Mo with eyes full of fear, resentment, and a trace of... strange hope.

"What... what do you actually want?"

He asked in a hoarse voice.

Chen Mo didn't answer immediately.

He walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the city lights of ten thousand homes.

The night sky after the rain was exceptionally clear, and the distant river looked like a black silk ribbon.

He was silent for a moment before slowly turning around, his gaze falling back on The Banker.

In those eyes, there was no joy of victory, only a bottomless calm.

"I don't want much."

His voice was soft, yet loud enough for everyone present to hear clearly.

"I'm just here to retrieve what my father left for me."

Chen Mo's gaze, like a cold scalpel, sliced through The Banker's last bit of wishful thinking.

"And you will lead me to it."

Reminder: The website will be redesigned soon, which may lead to the loss of your reading progress. Please save your 'Bookshelf' and 'Reading History' (screenshotting is recommended). We apologize for the inconvenience!