73: Chapter 73 Liu Kun's Fate

"I hope he is still alive."

"Living people are more useful than dead ones, at least in some cases."

As it turned out, Liu Kun was indeed still alive, just not living very decently.

August 5th, 3:00 PM.

In a motel in Queens that rented for twenty-five U.S. dollars a day, the room at the very end of the second floor.

Yan Zheng stood in the corridor, looking at the crooked "207" on the doorplate, smelling the mixed scent of cigarette smoke and instant noodle seasoning packets seeping out from the door crack.

He knocked on the door three times.

There was silence inside for five seconds, then the sound of slippers shuffling against the floor.

The door opened a crack, and a bloodshot eye peeked out from the gap of the door chain.

"Boss Yan?"

Liu Kun's voice was as hoarse as sandpaper grinding against tin.

"Boss Liu, good afternoon."

Yan Zheng stood smiling in the corridor, holding a paper bag in his hand.

"I brought some things. Is it convenient to go in and sit for a while?"

The door chain was unlatched with a rattle, and Liu Kun turned sideways to clear the doorway.

Yan Zheng swept a glance at the interior of the room as he walked in.

The twelve-square-meter space was piled high with takeout boxes and cigarette butts, the curtains were drawn tightly, and the only light source was the desk lamp on the bedside table with its lampshade missing.

Liu Kun stood by the door, wearing a wrinkled white tank top and a pair of athletic shorts. He hadn't shaved for at least five days, and his cheekbones were more prominent than the last time they met.

The former leader of the Snakehead Gang, who once called the shots in the Underground Fighting Ring, now looked like a dead fish washed ashore.

Yan Zheng placed the paper bag on the table and took out two bottles of mineral Water and a box of sandwiches.

"Liu Kun, eat something first. You look like you haven't eaten properly for a while."

Liu Kun didn't touch the box of sandwiches. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped over his knees, his knuckles white from the pressure.

"Boss Yan, I called you nine times."

"I know. Sorry, I went on a business trip and just got back."

Yan Zheng unscrewed a bottle of mineral Water and handed it over. He unscrewed one for himself as well and leaned against the wobbly desk.

"Tell me, Liu Kun, what happened?"

Liu Kun took the water bottle, took a big gulp, and his Adam's apple bobbed twice.

"It's over, it's all over."

"After the incident at the Underground Fighting Ring got out, the Snakehead Gang kicked me out of the inner circle."

Liu Kun's voice carried a kind of hollowed-out exhaustion.

"They said I mismanaged it and ruined the most profitable business in the gang."

"All the Mutants are dead, the venue has been targeted by the Police, and more than half of the customers have run away."

"The people above needed a scapegoat, and I am that scapegoat."

Yan Zheng took a sip of Water, his expression as gentle as if he were listening to an old friend vent their grievances.

"So you have been marginalized by the gang now?"

"Not just marginalized."

Liu Kun's hands were shaking. He placed the water bottle on the nightstand and pulled a revolver out from under the pillow.

"They have sent people to look for me twice. The first time I ran away, and the second time I almost didn't make it."

He placed the handgun on his knees, with the muzzle pointing toward the wall.

"Boss Yan, I know you have skills."

"That night at the Underground Fighting Ring, you took care of all those Mutants by yourself. I saw it."

"I don't know who you are, but I know you can help me."

Yan Zheng placed the mineral Water bottle on the table, crossed his hands in front of his abdomen, and held a relaxed posture.

"Boss Liu, the word 'help' has a price here with me."

"You name it, whatever the price is, I will give whatever I can."

"I am not short of money."

Yan Zheng pushed up the gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, the lenses reflecting the dim, yellowish light of the desk lamp.

"I want information."

Liu Kun's eyes flickered.

"What information?"

"Your source of Mutants."

Yan Zheng's tone was no different from chatting with a customer in the Antique Shop about the origin of a Ming Dynasty vase.

"Channels, upstream contacts, the names and contact information of middlemen, and the locations of strongholds."

"E.S.S., right?"

Boss Liu's expression changed.

It wasn't fear, but the kind of shock that says, "How do you know this name?"

"Boss Liu, you don't need to be surprised."

"Your Underground Fighting Ring uses Mutants as fighting dogs. You couldn't have caught these Mutants yourself; there must be a supplier."

"I did some homework. The abbreviation E.S.S. appeared in your previous call records."

"I need you to tell me the specific contact information and the locations of the strongholds yourself."

Liu Kun's lips moved, but no sound came out.

He looked down at the revolver on his knees, then looked up at Yan Zheng's excessively gentle face.

The silence lasted for nearly half a minute.

"Boss Yan, those people are not ordinary."

"I know."

"They have weapons, manpower, and laboratories."

"I know."

"If you provoke them, it is a hundred times more dangerous than provoking the Snakehead Gang."

Yan Zheng's smile didn't change, but he lowered his hands from his abdomen and tapped his right index finger gently on the table twice.

"Boss Liu, I can save your life."

"The premise is that you are honest with me."

Liu Kun stared into Yan Zheng's eyes for a long time.

Those eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses were as calm as two pools of stagnant Water, showing no emotional fluctuations, but also no traces of deception.

He took the handgun off his knees and stuffed it back under the pillow.

Then he spoke.

"E.S.S., short for Evolutionary Sample Services."

"A middleman organization that specializes in providing Mutant biological samples to big clients behind the scenes."

"They handle both the living and the dead."

"I have been cooperating with them for two years, getting three to five low-level Mutants every month to fill the Underground Fighting Ring."

Yan Zheng pulled a pen and a folded sheet of White paper from his pocket, spread it on the table, and began to take notes.

"What about the strongholds?"

"There are two outposts in New York."

Liu Kun's voice grew lower and lower, as if afraid that walls have ears.

"One is in Brooklyn, under an abandoned warehouse in the Red Hook District. It's an underground laboratory specifically for processing samples."

"The other is in New Jersey, at an abandoned farm on the outskirts of Paterson. That is the transit station for living subjects; Mutants are transported from other places and kept there first."

"What about the contact information?"

"An encrypted email address. Every transaction is communicated via email; I have only met them twice in person."

"What is the contact person's name?"

"The code name is 'The Gardener'. I don't know the real name. He is White, in his forties, bald, and has a large earring in his left ear."

Yan Zheng wrote this information down on the paper one by one, his handwriting as neat as if he were writing a prescription.

"What about the clients behind the scenes? Who does E.S.S. supply?"