UE Ch40: Cooperation

This meal was solemn and dignified on both sides, as if they were attending a formal banquet.

Head chef Fu Laoda didn’t bother playing host to their gathering. Instead, he picked a quiet spot for himself, eating heartily, oblivious to everything around him.

He was someone who valued his personal quality of life.

He knew that the relationship between the two sides had been frozen for a long time. Forcing a grand reunion would only lead to indigestion—it was better to eat first and talk later.

On the “Haina” and “Panqiao” sides, everyone’s minds were racing, as if they were about to drum out a big storytelling performance.

After learning the full story of Shan Feibai’s attack, “Panqiao” was, of course, aware that Ning Zhuo had done him a great favor.

But Ning Zhuo had made his “using gratitude as leverage” too blatant—it was obvious that he was aiming to swallow “Panqiao” whole.

Even if they had any sense of gratitude, it had been completely wiped out by Ning Zhuo’s maneuvering.

As for “Haina,” Ning Zhuo had dragged Shan Feibai back covered in burn marks, with half an arm gone.

It was clearly “Panqiao” that had internal corruption and traitors, yet in the end, it was Ning Zhuo who risked his life to save Shan Feibai.

They had always been protective of Ning Zhuo, and now they just felt indignant on his behalf.

However, despite their strong tempers, once they calmed down, both sides came to the same unspoken conclusion:

If Shan Feibai had really died on Ning Zhuo’s turf, the final outcome for both groups would have been an irreconcilable fight to the death.

—Someone was trying to provoke conflict, pushing them into mutual destruction.

The identity of the external enemy was still unknown. No matter how much resentment they felt, they had to prioritize their concerns wisely.

This was also why Ning Zhuo and Shan Feibai had chosen this moment to merge their factions.

To other mercenary organizations, this move seemed like a colossal blunder.

For mercenaries, cooperation was normal, but a merger usually led to bloodshed and casualties.

Mercenaries were often scornfully referred to as “hyenas” because they only cared about profit.

For most of them, as long as the money was right, they could even work with someone who had killed their own father. But merging factions was an entirely different matter—it involved too many interests, and if handled poorly, it could end up being a 1+1<0 situation, a complete disaster.

Let alone choosing a leader—just deciding whose name the merged faction would use could already lead to people bashing each other’s heads in.

When the news of “Haina” and “Panqiao” merging spread, many mercenary groups were secretly shocked. They immediately started betting in underground circles on when “Haina” would descend into chaos—would the east wind overpower the west, or would the west wind suppress the east?

But that was all for later.

Amidst the suffocating clatter of dishes and utensils, Min Min and Feng Huang exchanged glances, then tacitly stood up at the same time, placed their trays into the automatic disposal unit, and left the cafeteria one after the other.

As soon as Feng Huang stepped out of the tense, oppressive cafeteria, she let out a long breath. She pulled a matchstick from her pocket, lifted her leg, and struck it against the hollow metal of her prosthetic limb. The flame flared up, and just as she was about to light a cigarette, she noticed the no-smoking sign on this floor.

Min Min saw her standing there, match lit, and smirked slightly. She walked over and helpfully pointed out, “The 14th floor isn’t a no-smoking area.”

“Thanks.” Feng Huang waved at her. “It’s just that 14 isn’t exactly a lucky number.”

Min Min replied, “Ning set it that way. He said people who abuse tobacco should always have a sense of impending death.”

Feng Huang chuckled to herself, thinking that Ning Zhuo’s way of thinking was pretty interesting.

“I’m not addicted to smoking, just really stifled right now. Eating with you all…”

Feng Huang gestured vaguely. The match in her fingers was specially made, its small flame burning fiercely, tracing bright arcs in the air as she moved.

“…felt too weird.”

As internal staff, they knew about the frequent clashes between the two groups and had seen their own people return injured. But the grudges were never as direct or clear-cut as they were for field operatives.

“I’ll take you there.” Min Min offered. “Both sides seem pretty pent up—if they all head to the 14th floor for a smoke break, won’t that just make things even more frustrating?”

The two of them agreed instantly and walked shoulder to shoulder toward the elevator.

Min Min casually asked as they walked, “What brand is your nail polish?”

Feng Huang showed her nails to Min Min. “Made it myself. Want some?”

Min Min replied, “Give me the formula, and I’ll make it myself. As a fair trade, I’ll get you a cigarette.”

Feng Huang knew Min Min was wary of potential poison in her product. Given the long-standing hostility between their factions, such suspicion was understandable. She simply shrugged, unconcerned. “Sure.”

…

After the meal.

Ning Zhuo and Shan Feibai summoned the actual second-in-command figures of “Haina” and “Panqiao” to give instructions for what to do after their departure.

There were countless matters to handle, but in the end, it all boiled down to two major tasks—one external, one internal.

Externally: Suspend all contracts and keep everything under wraps.

Internally: Organize both groups’ financial, personnel, and material records, then share them with each other.

These weren’t difficult tasks, but they were tedious enough to keep both sides too busy to sit idle and stir up trouble.

Ning Zhuo gave the orders one by one, and Yu Sifei dutifully recorded each point. Occasionally, he asked a question, always in a methodical manner.

When the work was assigned, Ning Zhuo turned his gaze toward Yu Sifei, scrutinizing him.

Yu Sifei met his gaze openly, his eyes calm, as if he truly had a soul.

To be honest, Ning Zhuo didn’t have a good impression of this bionic man.

Yu Sifei’s face was crafted well—his silver hair was particularly striking, flowing like liquid metal.

But his heart was cold and dark.

He was “Panqiao’s” information warfare specialist, known as “Silver Rat.”

Last time, when “Haina” was transporting a special material for the black market, “Panqiao” had been hired by an unknown underground force to intercept it.

Yu Sifei deployed an unnamed virus, rendering all of “Haina’s” cybernetic limbs completely dysfunctional and irremovable, allowing them to seize the shipment effortlessly.

Ning Zhuo hadn’t been there at the time, and “Haina” suffered a huge loss, forfeiting a hefty security deposit.

Unwilling to take the loss lying down, Ning Zhuo retaliated immediately. He led a team to raid one of “Panqiao’s” warehouses. Anything unimportant was converted into cash to compensate those affected, and the excess was handed to Tang Kaichang to reinforce all terminal firewalls.

But even Tang Kaichang couldn’t fully crack that unknown virus.

Luckily, “Haina’s” internal security shields were different from cybernetic terminals—they were highly fortified.

Even if the virus couldn’t be eradicated, precise defense was still possible, so Ning Zhuo wasn’t too worried about Yu Sifei causing damage from within.

From Ning Zhuo’s limited interactions with him, Yu Sifei displayed all the classic traits of a bionic: logical, composed, ruthless, and rigid—occasionally even suffering from artificial stupidity.

However, his personality didn’t match his appearance at all. He was polite, refined, and gentlemanly.

As for Jin Xueshen, he stood in the hallway the entire time, never stepping into the room during Ning Zhuo’s briefing.

Ning Zhuo called out, “Jin Xueshen, come in.”

Jin Xueshen leaned against the wall, his expression cold as he refused, “No. I can’t breathe in the same room as them.”

Yu Sifei graciously leaned out and invited him, “Mr. Raven, please come in. I don’t need to breathe.”

Jin Xueshen snapped, “Get lost.”

Jin Xueshen and Yu Sifei were complete opposites in temperament.

He was hot-tempered and fiery, but at the same time, he had a steady hand and a firm grip on things. He often got so angry he practically puffed up like a blowfish, yet his actions always leaned toward reason.

He refused to go inside, but his ears were sharp, staying alert to the conversation.

Ning Zhuo didn’t force him and continued giving his instructions calmly. “Keep an eye on things. I don’t expect you all to act like brothers or pretend to be deeply bonded—no need to put on a show. But if anyone dares to make a move, no matter who’s in the right, when I come back, I’ll only be dealing with you two.”

Yu Sifei glanced at Shan Feibai.

Shan Feibai was sitting on the edge of Ning Zhuo’s desk, playing with a triangular pen holder. Hearing this, he looked up, still wearing a playful, relaxed expression.

“Lao Yu, you know the deal. While I’m gone, I want everyone to behave. Usually, you can do whatever, but when things come up, if I say how it should be done, then that’s how it has to be done. Don’t forget—we just had a traitor, A Fan. If there’s any more unrest, don’t blame me for treating everything as a threat.”

Ning Zhuo showed no reaction to these words. Yu Sifei nodded in understanding, but outside the door, Jin Xueshen was visibly surprised.

He had assumed that this brat with the surname Shan had only won over “Panqiao” with his family’s wealth. He hadn’t expected him to be the iron-fisted, suppressive type.

By comparison, Ning Zhuo seemed almost… adorable.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Jin Xueshen silently slapped himself in his own head.

Yu Sifei closed his notebook and asked, “Feibai, where are you two going?”

Hearing this name, Ning Zhuo glanced at Shan Feibai with an unreadable expression.

… “Feibai.”

He seemed to have a rather close relationship with his subordinates.

At that moment, Shan Feibai also turned his head, locking eyes with Ning Zhuo.

He grinned cheekily. “We’re off to do something bad.”

…He answered, yet said nothing at all.

Yu Sifei walked out of the room, puzzled, only to meet the equally bewildered gaze of Jin Xueshen.

The moment their eyes met, Jin Xueshen let out a cold snort and turned away without a word.

Yu Sifei searched through all twenty-seven years of his recorded memories and confirmed that he had never interacted with Mr. Raven before—he had no idea what he had done to offend him.

…Even the team he had robbed last time hadn’t shown him this much hostility.

Yu Sifei’s confusion deepened, but just as he turned around, he caught sight of someone watching him from a distance.

At the far end of the east corridor stood a man with delicate but unremarkable features. His clear eyes shimmered faintly as he stared directly at Yu Sifei, his gaze layered with complex emotions.

…As if he were searching for someone else’s shadow within him.

Yu Sifei blinked, quickly recognizing him as the unassuming yet influential leader of “Haina”—Fu Laoda.

He politely inclined his body in a bow.

Fu Laoda returned the gesture with a slight nod.

Yu Sifei had wanted to speak with him to deepen his understanding of “Haina,” but before he could say a word, Fu Laoda turned and walked away.

Yu Sifei remained still, looking back over his shoulder.

Jin Xueshen had already vanished.

Looking forward again, Fu Laoda had also disappeared.

Yu Sifei had always been emotionally stable.

One could say that ever since the moment he was created and opened his eyes, he had never felt urgency or anger.

Even now, left standing alone, he didn’t feel neglected—just purely intrigued. The people of “Haina” were quite interesting, worthy of further study.

…

The next day, after completing their arrangements, Ning Zhuo and Shan Feibai arrived at a tea house.

This tea house was a money-laundering front for the Charlemagne family—one of Charlemagne’s carefully hidden invisible assets.

Their purpose for this meeting was to receive the first installment of their payment.

Wire transfers always left a trace.

For transactions like these, cash was the safest and most reliable option.

This time, their contact was someone new.

With Charlemagne running out of usable personnel, the one sent today was his long-serving butler.

The butler had been with Charlemagne since his meteoric rise, witnessing his greatest moments of power. He had quietly profited from the association, both openly and behind the scenes. Even many officers of “White Shield” treated him with polite deference. And now, here he was, forced to sit with two lowly mercenaries to discuss business—his pride bristled at the humiliation, his wrinkled face taut with displeasure.

The moment he saw the two of them clearly, his dissatisfaction only grew.

So good-looking—what a waste to send them to prison. Were they going there to be someone’s pet?

However, at this point, they had no other forces to turn to.

With a rigid expression, he handed the cash-filled briefcase to Ning Zhuo.

After a quick count, Ning Zhuo called over a server.

One of the “services” this tea house offered was delivery assistance.

The server, well accustomed to such dealings, wordlessly accepted the briefcase and carried it straight to Ning Zhuo’s motorcycle.

A’Bu took the money, activated its autopilot mode, and beeped twice before driving off.

The tea house also served set meals.

The butler ordered himself a pot of tea and an afternoon snack, planning to eat before leaving—something to make up for the unpleasantness of dealing with such lowly company.

To his annoyance, however, the two men didn’t leave after receiving the money. They simply sat across from him, staring.

Irritated but maintaining politeness, the butler asked, “Is there something else?”

Ning Zhuo replied, “Your side requires us to commit a crime before entering prison. What kind of crime do we need to commit?”

The butler calmly cut into a flaky pastry with a dining knife, set the knife down, and picked up his fork. His tone was neither soft nor harsh as he responded, “That is for you to figure out.”

Faced with this dead-end response, Ning Zhuo merely raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

Even without prior coordination, Shan Feibai naturally took over. “Can’t they just slap any random charge on us and arrest us?”

The butler lifted his teacup, using it to hide the slight downturn of his lips.

In the past? Of course, they could.

But now, with Mr. Charlemagne’s power greatly diminished, things weren’t so easy anymore.

Annoyed by their lack of understanding, the butler’s patience wore thin. “Aren’t you mercenaries? Just kill someone on the street. Do that, and you’ll have completed your task—I’ll arrange for the next payment.”

Shan Feibai let out a soft “Oh” and suddenly lunged forward, reaching across the table to grab the butler’s hand.

At the same moment, Ning Zhuo picked up the silver dining knife, still smeared with pastry crumbs, and with a downward thrust, drove it clean through the butler’s hand!

The butler let out a scream of disbelief and agony.

Ning Zhuo tilted his head slightly, expressionless. “Does this count as completing the task?”

Shan Feibai, still smiling, followed up with a cheerful, “Where’s the rest of the money? Please pay in cash.”

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