107: Crazy Baahubali (4K, please support!)

Deep within the White Elephant Manor, the massive fortress of the Garol Gang, the atmosphere was equally heavy.

Bahubali was wearing a vest, standing with his back to the giant "Shiva" mural, his expression gloomy.

In the mural, Shiva stood within a circle of fire, left leg raised, with four arms—two crossed and two outstretched.

It was the "Tandava," the dance representing destruction and rebirth.

His eldest son, Vidyanand, stood to the side, his young, handsome face filled with rage.

On the holographic screen, the footage of the "Sun Erniang's Meat Shop" explosion, captured by a news helicopter, played on a loop.

This district, which they had snatched from the hands of the yellow-skinned dogs, was one of their most valuable assets; hundreds of millions in cash flow were generated, transferred, and distributed here every year.

And now, nothing was left. After the explosion, the Public Security Bureau and the Anti-Terrorism Mobile Unit swarmed in like locusts.

The entire district, with its best transfer and distribution points, had just vanished into thin air.

"Father!"

"This was definitely done by those bastards from the Iron Hand Gang!"

Vidyanand slammed his fist onto the tabletop, creating a dull thud.

"They took advantage of the police patrols to completely wipe out our raw material line! And they even staged a bitter ruse, sacrificing only a batch of useless trash!" He said gloomily, eyes fixed on the contemplative Bahubali.

"Father, otherwise none of this makes sense."

"Why did everything happen just as we cautiously transported the raw materials over? This is definitely not a coincidence; it must have been the Iron Hand Gang. Only they could be this professional!"

He argued vehemently: "This is an undeclared war. We must fight back immediately. That bastard 'Iron Hand Water' must be taught a lesson!"

Bahubali did not respond immediately, his fingers rubbing the armrest of his chair, his eyes deep and thoughtful.

'Vidyanand is right; all of this is too coincidental.'

'This is a premeditated attack. We are being targeted.'

Bahubali pondered inwardly. The loss this time was too great—not just the priceless pharmaceutical workshop and the raw materials hoarded inside, but more importantly, the irreplaceable experts and technical backbone.

Of course, there was also the stock that was already prepared for shipment.

Rebuilding would take time, money, and connections, and under the high pressure of that old dog Fobler, all of this would be extremely difficult.

"Father!"

"We must act, and quickly."

"Fa..."

"Ding-dong."

His wristband vibrated. Bahubali, who had been lost in thought, glanced at the number, and his pupils constricted.

Vidyanand saw it too. He hid the anger on his face deep in his heart, and his expression immediately calmed down.

"It's Fobler. He definitely wants more... Father, what are you going to say?"

Bahubali raised a hand, signaling his son to be quiet. Vidyanand was still young; his experience was insufficient, and his composure was not deep enough.

He took a deep breath and connected the call, instantly replacing his expression with one of indifference, with a hint of humility.

"Director Fobler, good evening."

"Bahubali."

In the holographic image, Fobler coldly interrupted him, without pleasantries: "How the hell are you managing your territory?"

"A fine meat shop. What kind of meat was frozen in there? Hmm? And those chemicals, the content in the servers..."

"Now look, the whole world knows. Do you know how much it's going to cost me, how many people I have to beg, just to suppress this?"

No matter how deep his composure was, Bahubali felt a surge of anger when faced with such a harsh scolding.

He clenched his fists, remaining silent.

Last quarter, a full sixty million earth federation coin.

Through a dozen layers of complex equity structures, it flowed into the pockets of Fobler and his interest group.

That was nearly a quarter of the Garol Gang's profits in Sector 03. But now, this well-fed vicious dog not only failed to provide protection but was the first to jump out, humiliate him, and bite him!

'Screw you, Director! Screw you, Fobler! I'm going to rip out your heart and feed it to the dogs!'

Bahubali's chest was churning, but the mask of indifference and humility on his face remained unmoved.

In fact, his voice became even lower and more submissive: "Director, please calm your anger. This attack was too sudden, with no warning. The methods were ruthless and professional; it's not something an ordinary force could pull off."

"We are victims too, suffering heavy losses..."

"Hmph." Fobler let out a harsh, cold laugh.

"All I see is a group of lawless thugs who got their rear ends kicked and can't even figure out who did it!"

"I don't care who did it. Now, the public needs an explanation! An explanation that can calm the public opinion and save face."

Fobler's expression was indifferent: "Bahubali, do you understand what I mean?"

Bahubali's heart sank sharply. A foreboding premonition felt like a noose; once it was around his neck, he couldn't take it off.

"The Director means..." He spoke with a sliver of hope.

"Don't play games with me!" Fobler was afraid he hadn't made himself clear enough.

"I want a person." Fobler said decisively: "A person of sufficient weight, a high-level cadre of your Garol Gang. I want him to 'plead guilty and accept the law,' admitting to planning and executing yesterday's two attacks."

"His motive is simple: he took money from the Human Federation, became an agent, and his goal was to interfere with the second round of talks between the Terran Union and the Qien Empire, and to seize the opportunity to destroy the hard-won peace."

"Tomorrow morning, I want to see him at the bureau's press conference. I will have someone prepare the charges and the evidence chain."

The office was deathly silent. Vidyanand looked up sharply at his father.

If it were him, he would never accept Fobler's extortion. At worst, he would go to outer space and become a pirate.

Although he would be reluctant, at least that way, his smuggling routes could be preserved and respected.

But if he agreed to Fobler's request, the dignity of the Garol Gang would inevitably suffer a major blow.

Once smaller forces sensed weakness and were no longer afraid of them, their advantage would vanish into thin air.

Bahubali lowered his head. He was also thinking: hand over a high-level cadre to take the blame? It sounded simple, but it would come at the cost of overdrawing the loyalty of his subordinates.

Gangs were inherently about who paid whom.

Now, as the boss, his gang had been attacked by enemies and suffered great losses. Not only did he not find the enemy, but he had to submit to the Public Security Bureau and make his subordinates take the blame for the enemy.

This was not just a great humiliation; it was a shaking of the foundations of his rule.

Bahubali was silent for a few seconds. He looked into Fobler's eyes and saw fire.

He became instantly vigilant. Fobler should know not to push too far, unless this matter far exceeded Fobler's social stratum.

Unless this matter had already reached higher levels; just from the point of demanding someone to plead guilty and frame the Human Federation, it could be basically concluded.

'If this matter isn't handled well, will it attract the attention of the Terran Union Investigation Bureau?'

Bahubali felt a sudden shock. As a gang leader, he knew many things others didn't. The most terrifying thing in the Terran Union Investigation Bureau wasn't humans, but the "Hazbuzan People consultants."

These alien creatures were extremely vicious and were best at "criminal behavior studies."

They had an innate obsession with crime and an extremely keen intuition.

Once targeted, the Garol Gang could change its name. Originally, the Garol Gang was already on the Hazbuzan People's "criminal group shell company" list. Above Bahubali's head were his alien masters.

But the Hazbuzan People were not monolithic.

They were all criminal groups, and there were countless different branches and factions within them.

If the Garol Gang made a mistake, other criminal branches of the Hazbuzan People would have reasons and excuses. They would be restless, taking the opportunity to open their mouths wide and swallow the entire Garol Gang.

Essentially, this was a struggle between the Hazbuzan People, and Bahubali had no ability to resist any of this.

When Bahubali was young, he had experienced it firsthand.

His only choice now was to settle this matter.

Finally, his hoarse voice sounded: "I understand, Director. The candidate... I will arrange it."

As soon as these words were spoken, Vidyanand showed an expression of disbelief.

Even though the Garol Gang had a large amount of dirt on Director Fobler for funneling benefits, as well as various handles that ordinary people couldn't even imagine, even so, Bahubali still chose to submit?

Vidyanand took a deep breath, and a conclusion formed in his heart: 'Father is old.'

"Very good." Fobler finally revealed a trace of a satisfied smile.

"Remember, tomorrow morning, I want to see the person. It must be a living person, a living person who confesses and accepts the law!"

"Then, what about the Iron Hand Gang?" Bahubali asked tentatively.

Why only ask the Garol Gang to take the blame? The explosion at Platform A2 collapsed the entire road; wasn't that more serious?

On the other end of the communication, Fobler paused significantly, his expression unreadable.

He thought of "Iron Hand Water," and also thought of the mysterious "Board of Directors."

'Damn it, I haven't lived enough yet. Go provoke a smuggling port supported by the Hazbuzan People? Am I crazy?'

'Besides, the money the Iron Hand Gang paid out last quarter was three times that of the Garol Gang. I won't K you, I'll go K him?'

Thinking of this, Fobler's tone became somewhat vague.

"Ahem, the situation with the Iron Hand Gang is different... You, first wipe your own rear end clean!"

After speaking, without waiting for Bahubali to ask again, he abruptly hung up the phone.

Bahubali watched the holographic projection frame disappear. That calm mask finally shattered. He slammed his fist onto the tabletop, and the thick wooden table let out an unbearable groan, instantly denting and shattering.

And on Bahubali's palm, apart from wood shavings, there was not a scratch.

The words in Vidyanand's throat were all choked back. His eyes widened like ox eggs, almost popping out.

'This old man, since when...'

Bahubali turned his head to glance at his son, then looked down at his own palm, his heart filled with mixed feelings: 'Dr. Oakes of the Sky Medical Consortium didn't lie to me. Gene modulators really can grant a person the trait of being "extremely strong."'

In order to pursue eternal power, he dared to do anything, and he feared nothing.

"Father." Vidyanand spoke after all, but his voice was significantly lower.

"That old dog Fobler didn't even dare to mention the Iron Hand Gang!"

"He took the Iron Hand Gang's money, and what about us?"

"Our annual four quarters, adding up to 240 million in 'sponsorship fees,' isn't that money?"

"Shut up." Bahubali glanced lightly at his son, the cruelty hidden deep in that gaze making Vidyanand subconsciously step back: "You are still young. The truth behind some things is not that simple."

"This is a measure of expediency; it is survival!"

"But this is surviving on one's knees!" Vidyanand still argued.

"Look outside, look at those vicious wolves staring at our territory, waiting for us to fall."

"Hand over one high-level member today, and Fobler will want a second tomorrow! A third!"

"The backbone of the Garol Gang will be broken by him one by one! Father, we need to respond!"

Looking at his father's cold silhouette, Vidyanand swallowed the words "surrender" and "weakness" he had originally wanted to say, replacing them with some softer, more neutral vocabulary.

"You can go out now." Bahubali pointed to the door, a flash of disappointment in his eyes.

"Calm down, calm down, and think clearly before coming back."

Vidyanand's chest rose and fell violently, his eyes full of disappointment.

He stared at his father for a few seconds, turned abruptly, and slammed the door as he left.

In the office, only Bahubali's heavy breathing remained. He watched the direction his son left, his eyes complex.

"Someone, come in!" He roared in a low voice.

The side door of the office slid open silently, and four maids wearing traditional saris with beautiful faces walked in with their heads lowered.

"Pour the wine." Bahubali pointed to the wine cabinet.

The maids obeyed meekly, carefully bringing over a glass of amber spirits.

Bahubali took it but did not drink.

He just stared at the swirling liquid in the glass, his eyes hollow and cold.

"Come here." He commanded.

Half an hour later.

The office door slid open again.

The strategist Sanjay urged a few expressionless "cleaners" to walk in.

They skillfully cleaned up the mess on the floor.

Six large black plastic bags were filled.

Bahubali sat back in the large chair, truly calming down.

He picked up the glass of wine he hadn't drunk earlier and downed it in one gulp.

Fobler's favoritism... the Iron Hand Gang... Platform A2 being destroyed at almost the same time... the methods being equally ruthless and professional...

A name burrowed into his mind like a viper.

Iron Hand Water!

Vidyanand was right.

Only the Iron Hand Gang had the motive and the ability to orchestrate such precise, ruthless chain attacks!

Taking advantage of the gap in Fobler's high-pressure patrols to severely damage the core industry of the Garol Gang in one fell swoop.

Fobler's vague attitude and his refusal to mention the Iron Hand Gang only confirmed this point!

That old dog must have received an even greater benefit from the Iron Hand Gang, or even... was there Fobler's shadow behind this attack?

A thought suddenly rose in Bahubali's heart: 'He wants to borrow a knife to kill, to completely reshuffle the underground forces in the West District?!'

"Water..." Bahubali squeezed the name through his teeth.

"You... will pay the price!"