I Will Teach You How to Hunt Gods

Chapter 557 143: Banquet (4,400 Words)

Yang Qian looked at the needle named "Black Burial" in his hand and fell into silence.

The moment Enfield spoke, he understood that he had no choice.

As a servant, he had no right to refuse, nor the opportunity to retreat.

He was an orphan with no family or friends, seemingly without ties, but the Collection Clan had preemptively injected chronic Poison into his body as their trump card for ensuring loyalty.

Yang Qian knew that this Poison was easily neutralized in the current era; the Collection Clan did it only out of ancient family ritual. But even if he broke free, where could a mere mortal like him hide?

In this vast world, there really weren't many places Yang Qian could hide.

"Isn't our fate already determined the moment we joined the family?"

He laughed self-deprecatingly in his heart, but nodded outwardly, ultimately accepting this task.

Initially, he felt a slight guilt, feeling like those villains in old martial arts films, destined to be a Chessman behind the scenes, sent to assassinate a good official...

But after a little thought, the guilt faded away.

This is reality, not a fairytale movie. Reality isn't exquisite, and there's no real distinction between good and bad; only the eternal entanglement of interests.

The Collection Clan poisons for their benefit, the Huangxing Group seeks to crush Gunman Technology to support Mokaka, and Yang Qian is set to assassinate Mokaka to climb the social ladder and secure a promising future.

Everyone is cut from the same cloth; there's no right or wrong, just winners and losers.

In this environment, craving justice is foolish.

To make money and gain social status, Yang Qian had long discarded his dignity and humanity, stomping over them. Now, giving up the task due to a few internet "rumors" would be stupid beyond remedy.

"I'll prepare to act immediately."

Yang Qian tucked the small box into his jacket and murmured, "But I hope the clan, besides adopting my children, will also gift me shares of Gunman Technology."

"I know this request sounds unreasonable, but you know how high the risk of this action is. I might have to confront Apprentice Death God Wu Ming, and without care, I might die there."

"So..."

Hearing this, Enfield slightly raised his brow, a hint of dissatisfaction flickering within.

For a servant to dare make conditions, it was indeed reverse heaven's mandate.

Yet, after pondering for a moment, he agreed to Yang Qian's request.

Gunman Technology was now beyond saving; even repaying loans with immovables and equipment might not leave millions behind, still a question.

Just a certified mess; giving it away was no big deal.

Enfield waved his hand, immediately writing a transfer agreement for Yang Qian and signed his name.

Yang Qian took the agreement, exhaled deeply, respectfully bowed, and turned to leave.

He wasn't sure of his fate on this journey, but faced with no retreat, he could only forge ahead.

As he stepped out of the office, he vaguely overheard Enfield and the Collection Clan patriarch speaking on the phone.

They began by quietly cursing Yang Qian's greed, then mentioned Black Burial.

They didn't say what the needle was for, but judging by their confident tone, it was definitely significant.

Later, Enfield asked, if Black Burial ultimately fails to be effective, what should they do.

From the Collection Clan's words, Yang Qian barely heard terms like "foreign aid," "higher-ups," and "general."

It seemed the clan had some backups; surely they wouldn't bet everything on a single servant.

Yang Qian wanted to keep listening, but unfortunately, Enfield and the Collection Clan patriarch purposefully lowered their voices, making it unintelligible.

But on further thought, this was not something he should be hearing.

He sighed, rose, and went to his private office to prepare for the upcoming action.

...

Morning of January 3, 2078, at 6 AM.

Just 8 hours until the election officially starts.

At this moment, the G District Huangxing Group chairman's office welcomed a guest.

Vivian Hugo.

Or rather... Mokaka.

She had already woken up yesterday, not forgetting to encourage Yun You from her sickbed, publicly voicing support for the Huangxing Group on social platforms.

Knowing all Yun You had done for her, Mokaka understood she was now bound to the Huangxing Group chariot.

But she didn't mind this state.

She used to have a hot-blooded zeal, full of knowledge, saying one philosophy after another, even resenting her father the businessman, thinking that associating with corporations sullied her ideals.

But now, having faced Life and Death, she finally realized that "form," in essence, doesn't matter.

For the ideals she'd read in books, ordinary companies might seem backward, inevitably exploitative, but compared to the era itself, Huangxing Group was very advanced, at least able to benefit ordinary citizens to some extent.