22: Chapter 22 That day at sunset, he elegantly smoked a cigar atop a pile of corpses.
The moment that drop of mucus fell, Guzman's world collapsed.
But he did not die immediately.
The red monster seemed to enjoy the fear of its prey; it was like a mischievous child dismantling a newly bought toy, piece by piece, turning this once arrogant drug lord into parts scattered all over the room.
The screams lasted for a full ten minutes before finally fading into a deathly silence.
When the first rays of dawn in San Verde pierced the darkness and illuminated the hillside manor, the air here was still thick enough to be suffocating. The stench of blood was so thick it could not be dissipated, attracting countless greenbottle flies that buzzed in the morning light, playing a nauseating symphony.
Several black SUVs crashed through the manor's broken gate with extreme arrogance.
Rosa, wearing that iconic tight leather suit, jumped out of the car. Following behind her were five trembling men.
They were the heads of the few remaining small gangs in San Verde, who had been acting like brothers with Guzman just last night, discussing how to carve up Chen Yuan's Pharmaceutical Factory. But this morning, when they received that photo of Guzman's manor, everyone was like a chicken with its neck wrung, obediently rolling over here.
"God..."
A gangster boss with a fleshy face had just walked into the front yard when his legs went weak.
This was not a battlefield at all, but a slaughterhouse.
There were no traces of intense bullet holes or explosions as imagined, only severed limbs scattered everywhere. Those well-trained bodyguards looked as if they had been torn apart by some giant beast; not a single corpse was intact.
Especially that basement steel door, which was claimed to be nuclear-bomb proof.
At this moment, that thirty-centimeter-thick alloy door panel looked like a piece of tin foil torn by a naughty child, twisted and deformed, with a huge, irregular hole broken open in the middle.
The edges were sharp and curled outward.
This meant that the monster had forcibly "clawed" the door open from the outside.
Rosa felt her throat go dry, and that familiar sense of fear crept up her spine again. She remembered the desperate marksmanship of Chen Yuan in the cornfield that night. And now it seemed, marksmanship was perhaps just the most insignificant trump card in that man's hand.
"Let's go in."
Rosa took a deep breath and pushed the fat man beside her who was about to vomit, "Mr. Chen is waiting for us."
The group stepped on the thick, bloody water and walked into the underground secret room that once symbolized the highest power in San Verde.
The secret room was brightly lit.
But no one dared to look up at the ceiling and walls, because they were plastered with things that once belonged to Guzman.
Their gaze could only, and must, be focused on the center of the room.
There stood a luxurious European-style velvet high-backed chair, originally the throne used by Guzman to receive his subordinates and enjoy their obeisance.
At this moment, Chen Yuan was sitting on it.
This scene had a very strong visual impact, even carrying a sense of absurd artistry.
Around him was a bloody scene like an Asura hell, with dark red graffiti everywhere. Yet Chen Yuan was wearing a pristine white handmade suit, with crisp trousers and polished leather shoes, and not even a single strand of hair was out of place.
He sat with his legs crossed, holding an exquisite gold cigar cutter in his hand, leisurely trimming a thick Cuban cigar.
"Click."
The crisp cutting sound echoed in the deathly silent secret room, startling the fat man into shivering violently.
"You're here?"
Chen Yuan did not look up, but took a lighter out of his pocket—it was Guzman's most beloved solid gold Zippo.
"Snap."
The flame shot up and lit the cigar.
Chen Yuan took a deep drag, and the pale blue smoke was slowly exhaled, blurring his handsome yet cold face.
"The air here isn't very good, it's a bit fishy." He frowned, as if commenting on a restaurant dish, "So I'm smoking a cigarette to suppress the smell, you don't mind, do you?"
Mind? Who would dare to mind?
The five gang leaders had already lowered their heads to their crotches, wishing they could find a crack in the ground to crawl into. They didn't even dare to breathe, for fear that if they inhaled a breath of air, they would be inhaling a "part" of Guzman.
"Mr... Mr. Chen."
That fat leader was the first to be unable to withstand this suffocating pressure, and with a "thud," he knelt down, his knees hitting the bloody water and splashing a few red spots.
"It's a misunderstanding! It's all a misunderstanding! It was that bastard Guzman who forced us! We never thought about going against you!"
With one leading, the remaining four also fell like dominoes, all kneeling on the ground in unison.
"Yes, yes, yes! Mr. Chen, we were just here to make up the numbers!"
"From now on, you are the sky of San Verde! We will follow your lead!"
Cries and pleas for mercy rose one after another.
Chen Yuan leaned back on the chair, watching this group of "big shots" who were usually arrogant, through the smoke, a mocking arc curling on the corner of his mouth.
This is the law of survival in the underground world.
There is no loyalty, only strength and weakness.
When your power is great enough to crush the rules, you are the new rule.
"Don't be nervous."
Chen Yuan flicked the ash, and it landed on Guzman's priceless Persian rug, just covering a dark red stain.
"I called everyone here, not to listen to this nonsense."
He stood up, cigar in hand, and slowly walked to the fat man kneeling in the front.
The fat man was stiff all over, looking at the leather shoes right in front of him, his teeth chattering.
"Guzman is dead."
Chen Yuan's voice was very light, but it hit everyone's heart like a heavy hammer, "His territory, his shipping routes, and his massive sales network are all empty now."
"This is a huge vacuum, and also a huge cake."
Chen Yuan bent down and gently patted the fat man's cold-sweat-covered cheek with the finger holding the cigar:
"I don't have a big appetite, I only eat meat, I don't like gnawing on bones. So, I want to ask you all..."
He straightened up, his gaze sweeping across the room, his eyes instantly becoming as sharp as a knife:
"Is there anyone else who wants to team up against me? If so, stand up now. I'm in a hurry, it just so happens that my pet needs an extra meal."
Deathly silence.
Absolute silence.
Let alone standing up, these few people wished they could shrink their heads into their chests. That "pet" obviously referred to the monster that tore Guzman apart; just thinking about that scene made them feel their bladders tighten.
"No... no!"
"Mr. Chen, from now on, your rules are the rules of San Verde!"
Rosa stood to the side, looking at the man chatting and laughing amidst the mountain of corpses and sea of blood, the infatuation in her eyes almost overflowing.
This is the man she chose.
Powerful, elegant, cruel, like a king who walked out of hell.
"Very good."
Chen Yuan nodded with satisfaction, "Since everyone has reached a consensus, that's easy to handle. Rosa, the specific takeover work is left to you. Whoever dares to reach out at this time..."
He made a throat-slitting gesture.
"Understood, boss." Rosa licked her lips, her eyes becoming dangerous.
Just as Chen Yuan was preparing to end this "educational" morning meeting and go back to take a nap, his private cell phone in his pocket suddenly rang.
The abrupt ringtone sounded particularly harsh in the deathly silent secret room.
It was a cheerful piece of jazz.
The few leaders kneeling on the ground shuddered in fear, almost thinking it was some signal for execution.
Chen Yuan took out his phone and glanced at the caller ID; his originally cold expression instantly melted, replaced by a gentle and refined mask.
"Hello, Mrs. Mary?"
He answered the phone, his tone as relaxed as if he were chatting with a neighbor, "Calling so early, was the medicine last night too effective, causing you insomnia?"
The excited voice of Mary Anderson came from the other end of the phone, even carrying a hint of a voice crack:
"Chen! Huge news!"
"Are you still sleeping? Get up! Forget about your crappy business!"
"A big Hollywood star is here! Right at my house! She specifically asked to see you, saying it's for that miracle medicine that can make people look younger!"
"Chen, you're famous! Completely famous!"
Chen Yuan raised an eyebrow.
He glanced at the scattered corpse parts and the big shots kneeling on the ground, then looked at the cigar he hadn't finished smoking, and couldn't help but laugh out loud.
On one side was the bloody and cruel underground conquest, on the other was the glamorous invitation from high society.
That's right.
This is the life he wanted.
"A Hollywood star?"
Chen Yuan stubbed out the cigar on Guzman's expensive desk, leaving a charred mark.
"Tell her I'm busy. If she wants to see me, let her get in line herself."