42: Chapter 42 Kingpin's Agent

The next afternoon, Yan Zheng changed into a dark gray casual suit, tucked the scalpel into his pocket, and sat in the VIP room of Liu Kun's Underground Fighting Ring.

The room wasn't large, but the soundproofing was decent; the shouting from the fighting ring outside came through only as muffled, low-frequency vibrations.

Liu Kun sat opposite him, gripping a glass of whiskey with both hands, his knuckles turning red, without having taken a single sip.

"Where is he?"

"Soon, soon. Mr. Wesley said he would arrive at three o'clock, and it is now two-fifty-five."

Liu Kun licked his lips, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Boss Yan, don't say too much later. That Wesley is no ordinary person; he is the white glove for Kingpin, and half of the underground dealings in Hell's Kitchen pass through his hands."

"Don't worry."

Yan Zheng held a cup of warm Water, leaning back on the sofa, his posture as relaxed as an idler here to watch the fight.

"I am just your investment partner, here to check on the return on investment."

At three o'clock sharp, the door to the room was knocked twice.

It wasn't a pounding, but two very restrained knocks, evenly spaced and moderate in force.

Liu Kun jumped up to open the door.

Standing outside was a lean white man, about one meter seventy-five tall, wearing a well-tailored light gray suit with a tie clip positioned with millimeter precision. Gold-rimmed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, and the eyes behind the lenses carried a kind of Eternity-like smile, with a temperature right on the boundary between "kind" and "aloof."

Wesley.

Two burly men in black suits followed behind him, standing outside the door without entering.

"Mr. Liu, good afternoon."

Wesley's voice was neither high nor low, his articulation clear, every syllable as neatly trimmed as if it had been pruned.

"Mr. Wesley, please, come in!"

Liu Kun stepped aside a bit too much, almost bumping into the door frame.

Wesley walked into the room, his gaze pausing on Yan Zheng for half a second before he sat on the single sofa opposite the round table, his movements as light as a gloved cat.

"And this is?"

"Oh, this is Mr. Yan, my investment partner; he just bought into the shares a while ago."

Liu Kun explained with a fawning smile, rubbing his hands on his trousers.

Wesley nodded toward Yan Zheng, the curve of his lips just right.

"Mr. Yan, nice to meet you."

"Mr. Wesley, I've heard much about you."

Yan Zheng bowed slightly, his tone as gentle as jade.

"Boss Liu often mentions that Mr. Fisk's business is very large; it is an honor to meet his representative today."

Wesley smiled but didn't pick up on that topic. He took a mobile phone from his inner suit pocket, placed it on the table, and then rested his clasped hands on his knees.

"Mr. Liu, I will get straight to the point."

"Please, go ahead."

"Mr. Fisk has made some adjustments to the terms discussed last time."

Liu Kun's smiling face stiffened for a moment.

"Adjustments?"

"The handover time for the three Mutant fighters has been moved up to the night after tomorrow, not next Wednesday."

"The day after tomorrow? That's too..."

"Furthermore."

Wesley's voice held no fluctuations, as if he were reading from a printed contract.

"Mr. Fisk also requires you to provide the complete genetic files for these three Mutants, including the blood samples, tissue sections, and observation records of their ability trigger conditions established by your Doctor."

Liu Kun almost dropped his whiskey glass.

"Genetic files? Mr. Wesley, last time we only talked about the people, there was no mention of files..."

"The situation has changed; the client has added requirements."

Wesley pushed up his glasses, his tone carrying a layer of moderate pressure.

"Mr. Liu, you should understand that Mr. Fisk is never a man who likes to repeat his requests."

The room fell silent for three seconds.

Liu Kun swallowed, his voice dry.

"Mr. Wesley, it's not that I'm unwilling to cooperate, but the day after tomorrow is just too rushed. The files for those people are scattered in different places; I have to find my Doctor to organize them..."

"How long will it take?"

"Can you give me one more day? The day after that..."

"Before ten o'clock the night after tomorrow."

Wesley's mouth still held a smile, but the look behind his lenses didn't yield a single word.

"The location remains the same: Warehouse 17 at the East District docks. Hand over both the people and the files together."

"Fifty thousand per person, one hundred and fifty thousand total, settled in cash on the spot."

"Any questions?"

A thin layer of sweat seeped onto Liu Kun's forehead. He glanced at Yan Zheng, and Yan Zheng shook his head slightly at him, meaning "don't haggle anymore."

"No, no problems. We'll be on time the night after tomorrow."

"Very good."

Wesley stood up, tugging at the hem of his suit jacket with movements as elegant as if he had just finished an afternoon tea.

When he reached the door, he paused, half-turned, and his gaze landed on Yan Zheng.

"Mr. Yan, may I ask, how long have you been investing in the fighting ring?"

"About three months."

Yan Zheng answered with a smile, as open as a goldfish in a glass bowl.

"I mainly just think this industry is interesting; it's a small business, just for amusement."

"An Antique Shop owner investing in an Underground Fighting Ring is indeed an interesting combination."

Wesley's gaze lingered on Yan Zheng's gold-rimmed glasses for an extra half-second, then he nodded.

"I wish you both prosperous business."

The door closed.

Liu Kun plopped back into the sofa, downed the whiskey in one gulp, and the sweat on his forehead streamed down his temples.

"It's over, it's over, it's over. We have to hand them over the day after tomorrow, and my Doctor needs a day and a half just to organize the files..."

"Boss Liu."

Yan Zheng's voice was very soft.

"Before he left, he sent a message on his phone. Did you see it?"

Liu Kun was stunned for a moment.

"What message?"

"When he stood up, his right hand took the phone from the table, and his thumb swiped across the screen twice."

Yan Zheng placed his cup of warm Water on the table and traced the rim with his finger.

"An agent of Kingpin sent a message within three seconds of meeting me."

"Guess who he's checking on?"

Liu Kun's face turned a shade paler.

"Checking on you?"

"It doesn't matter; my identity can withstand scrutiny."

Yan Zheng stood up, buttoned his suit jacket, and his tone returned to a normal temperature.

"What's important is something else."

"What is it?"

"Kingpin doesn't just want the people; he wants the genetic files."

Yan Zheng walked to the door of the room, placed his hand on the handle, and looked back at Boss Liu.

"Boss Liu, think about it: what would a man in real estate and drug trafficking want with Mutant blood samples and tissue sections?"

Liu Kun opened his mouth but couldn't speak.

"He isn't the buyer; he's the middleman."

Yan Zheng opened the door, and the noise from the hallway flooded in.

"The person who really wants these things is behind Kingpin."

"And there is only one possible use for an underground buyer willing to pay a high price for living Mutants plus genetic data."

He stepped over the threshold, his voice lowered so that only Liu Kun could hear.

"Experiments."