Chapter 3: The Central Park Murder Case (3)

“Mr. Zhong, let me remind you as well! Your wife was attacked by this man and has already been sent to the hospital. Don’t think that those so-called bodyguards you have outside are enough to handle him.” Wu Zui looked at the arrogant Zhong Yuyu and offered this “kind” warning.

“Be careful he doesn’t come after you next!” Xiao Ke’ai, seeing that Zhong Yuyu seemed to waver, pointed at the photo of Yan Junhao and added.

“Fine, I know him! My wife’s ex-boyfriend. I heard he went back to the countryside, got married, and had children. So what? He’s a mercenary now? Why is he causing me trouble?” Zhong Yuyu feigned innocence, looking utterly aggrieved. To Wu Zui, this display was only more repulsive.

How could a corporation led by someone like this possibly contribute value to the nation?

“That I couldn’t say. Maybe he resents you for stealing his girlfriend, or perhaps someone else hired him to kill you. Anything is possible. Mr. Zhong, do you know what his relationship with your wife was like back then?” Wu Zui suppressed his disgust, his tone laced with mockery as he spoke to Zhong Yuyu.

Glancing at the wisp of dark aura above Zhong Yuyu’s head, Wu Zui already knew why Yan Junhao was after him. In the end, it was a case of self-inflicted consequences.

“I never stole his girlfriend. Song Shuxian dumped him herself. If you want to know more, ask her. I have nothing to say! Butler, see them out!” Evidently irritated by Wu Zui’s probing, Zhong Yuyu directly ordered them to leave.

“Mr. Zhong, we can leave if you want. But your 16 bodyguards outside won’t stop a mercenary. You’d better let the detectives protect you!” Wu Zui ignored the butler, reminding Zhong Yuyu.

Truth be told, he didn’t want to meddle in this mess. If Zhong Yuyu really got himself killed, he’d only have himself to blame.

“What 16? I only have 15 bodyguards! If you keep this nonsense up, I’ll lodge a complaint with your superior!” Zhong Yuyu was furious at what he perceived as Wu Zui’s raving.

“What!” Wu Zui was taken aback by this. His face darkened. He’d clearly seen 16 strands of gray aura, meaning 16 dubious characters were lurking around. But if Zhong Yuyu only had 15 bodyguards, then…

“Do your bodyguards have guns?” Wu Zui pressed urgently.

“What does that have to do with you? They’re all licensed to carry. What, are you accusing me of illegal possession now?” Zhong Yuyu was livid, already regretting letting Wu Zui and Xiao Ke’ai in.

Hearing that the 15 bodyguards all had gun licenses made Wu Zui uneasy. That meant all 15 idiots outside were armed!

Given the backgrounds of Yan Junhao and his two associates, if anyone hadn’t killed before and thus lacked the black aura, it would be Yan Junhao. Even Zhang Qiang, who trafficked drugs leading to death, bore that darkness.

“So you spent two years as a mercenary and never killed anyone? Yan Junhao, what are you thinking?” Wu Zui mused. But if Yan Junhao got his hands on a gun today, Zhong Yuyu was as good as dead.

Not even Jesus, nor his Heavenly Father, could save him.

“Yan Junhao is in your courtyard right now. Have your bodyguards come in. See if there are any other exits—we should get out of here first,” Wu Zui said anxiously.

The parlor was far too exposed for a shootout. If Wu Zui stood by the window, a stray bullet might catch him at any moment. He could only suggest this to Zhong Yuyu.

He regretted not bringing a weapon. In this country, firearms were strictly controlled, and almost no one could get their hands on one. That’s why mercenaries were reluctant to take jobs here; if exposed, it was nearly impossible to escape, let alone complete the mission.

Hearing Wu Zui’s words, Zhong Yuyu quickly regained his composure. Out of caution, he pressed a button beneath his tie. In less than thirty seconds, a group of footsteps echoed outside the door.

With the sound of approaching feet, Zhong Yuyu confidently strode to the entrance of the hall, with Wu Zui following. The butler opened the door, and a group of burly foreigners entered.

Wu Zui immediately pulled Xiao Ke’ai behind him. As for Zhong Yuyu… if he really got himself killed, he deserved it. One can’t blame others for courting death so eagerly.

“Boss!” The eight foreigners closed the door behind them and greeted Zhong Yuyu in unison, their posture intimidating. But Wu Zui knew: real bodyguards all had blood on their hands. These men, with their faint gray auras, weren’t even as “sinful” as Zhong Yuyu himself.

“Where are the others?” Zhong Yuyu was momentarily stunned, addressing the eight who’d come in.

“I don’t know,” one of the foreigners replied instinctively.

Wu Zui and Xiao Ke’ai almost burst out laughing—full marks to that bodyguard for his answer.

“Damn it!” Zhong Yuyu cursed, grabbing a teacup and hurling it at the speaker’s face. With a sharp crack, shards sliced the man’s cheek, blood spilling down and marring his features.

Before Zhong Yuyu could vent further, a muffled pop sounded—a silenced gunshot. One of the bodyguards crumpled to the ground, dead.

“Everybody down!” Wu Zui immediately dragged Xiao Ke’ai to the floor, shouting as he scanned the room.

The plush carpet itched against him, but it was better than being shot.

Zhong Yuyu, to his credit—perhaps thanks to a guilty conscience—reacted swiftly, diving beneath the marble coffee table.

“Master, this is a big scene! My family never lets me go on assignments at home, afraid I’ll get caught in a shootout. But my aim is great! Master, let’s get a gun from them and take out the guy outside!” To Wu Zui’s surprise, Xiao Ke’ai, pinned to the ground, wasn’t screaming or panicking like a typical girl. She was downright excited, eager to grab a gun and deal with Yan Junhao herself.

Wu Zui, seeing her eyes fixed on a dead bodyguard’s holstered weapon, understood her intentions.

“Stay down and don’t move! Do you have a compact mirror?” Wu Zui pressed her down as she tried to rise. This wasn’t child’s play—this was a gunfight. The enemy was on the offensive; now was no time for heroics.

Did she really think looking cute would stop bullets?

“I do,” Xiao Ke’ai replied, her excitement dimming as she wriggled out of her backpack and handed over her makeup mirror.

Gunshots rang out—bang, bang, bang. Using the mirror and the echoes, Wu Zui deduced the shooter was on the second floor of the servants’ quarters next door, holding the high ground. Without cover, they’d be easy targets.

Because the bodyguards had all been called inside, Yan Junhao, realizing he was exposed, began firing indiscriminately. Anyone who showed themselves risked a bullet.

He must have all the bodyguards’ guns by now.

Through the mirror, Wu Zui also saw the other seven bodyguards—those who didn’t come in—were still alive. It was bizarre: what kind of mercenary leaves so many alive?

As the gunfire continued, the amateur foreign bodyguards engaged Yan Junhao in a shootout, only to be picked off, one by one, by his not-so-shabby marksmanship.

The only one left alive was Zhong Yuyu, shivering under the coffee table—safe only because he was in a blind spot.

Guided by Wu Zui, he and Xiao Ke’ai crawled across the floor, drawing the blackout curtains. Once the room was shrouded in darkness, Yan Junhao stopped shooting, unable to see his targets.

Thankfully, the bodyguards had locked the door when they came in. Otherwise, Yan Junhao would have stormed in already. The butler by the door had fainted from fright, but at least he was out of danger.

Wu Zui, having already called for backup, picked up a fallen bodyguard’s gun. Grabbing the limp Zhong Yuyu and the eager Xiao Ke’ai, he hurried toward the second floor.

The first floor was too spacious, with too many windows. Even with grilles barring Yan Junhao’s entry, it was hard to defend. The safer bet was to retreat upstairs and wait for reinforcements.

They took the indoor elevator to the second floor. Wu Zui then shot out the control panel, short-circuiting the villa’s power for a moment before the backup system restored the lights. The elevator, at least, was now out of commission.

“Where’s the staircase?” he asked, glancing at the now-defunct elevator.

With trembling hands, Zhong Yuyu pointed it out—thankfully, it was only a few meters away.

Wu Zui and Xiao Ke’ai pressed themselves against the walls, guns trained on the stairwell. As long as there were no other stairs or elevators, Yan Junhao would have a hard time getting up.

“Are there any other stairways or lifts in this building?” Wu Zui immediately asked.

“N-no, none!” Now that he was safe, Zhong Yuyu regained his composure and pleaded, “Detective Wu, you have to save me! As long as I survive, three million… five million… you name your price!”

Wu Zui fished out a piece of candy from his pocket, tossing it into his mouth to restore his energy.

“I don’t want your money. Dirty money keeps you up at night, and I need my sleep,” he said with disdain. He wasn’t wealthy, but his parents had left him enough to get by comfortably.

“Master’s right! I could tell by your shifty eyes you’re no good,” Xiao Ke’ai chimed in, glaring at Zhong Yuyu.