Chapter 91: Wrecking The Venue
As soon as this group entered, they caught the attention of the guests inside the casino.
The originally noisy casino seemed to be hard-controlled for a few seconds by something, all sounds disappeared briefly, and the pot-bellied Zuo Mingquan at this moment was like a silent tiger passing through the crowd.
The gamblers on the ground floor were mostly hooligans, and seeing their attire and behavior, they knew this group came with ill intentions.
Don’t let Zuo Mingquan’s chubby and unremarkable appearance fool you; the group behind him had sharp eyes and an extraordinary presence.
Everyone’s hands were deliberately or casually resting on their waists.
No doubt, these people all had weapons tucked in their waists.
Zuo Mingquan walked straight to the pai gow table, and the gamblers nearby made way upon seeing this, but everyone only stepped back a few steps and did not choose to leave.
It was clear at a glance that they had come to smash the venue; this kind of excitement was of course of interest to these hooligans.
“May I ask what business the guest has?” The casino manager heard the news and hurriedly ran out from the back hall.
Zuo Mingquan sat down boldly opposite the manager and said coldly: “Cut the crap, of course we’re here to take some money to spend; are we here to drink tea?”
Gamblers entering a casino never say they’re there to gamble money; they all call it coming to take money to spend—first for good luck, second to bolster courage.
The manager took one look and knew this was an old hooligan; he immediately rolled up his sleeves and said: “How about I play with the guest?”
“You?” Zuo Mingquan sized up the casino manager, his right hand flashing like lightning as he drew his service pistol from his waist and fired a shot at his forehead.
Gunfire rang out, the casino manager fell to the ground, and the scene immediately descended into chaos.
“Tch, what makes you qualified to gamble with me.” Zuo Mingquan stood up and said: “What’s this? The big boss doesn’t dare come out and sends the little ones to take the fall?”
“Call Tian Darong out.”
With a clatter, the bead curtain on the second floor was pushed aside, and a figure stood upstairs saying to Zuo Mingquan: “Please, guest, come aside to talk.”
Zuo Mingquan glanced at the man upstairs, tucked his service pistol back into his waist, and casually walked upstairs.
Ascending along the carved wooden staircase, the atmosphere of the ground floor was gradually replaced by a sweet, lazy scent carrying a decaying breath.
On both sides of the corridor were compartments hung with bead curtains or cloth curtains.
The air was filled with the drowsy sweet fragrance unique to roasted mature opium paste, as well as a smell mixed with inferior tea leaves and incense.
Faintly audible everywhere were the gurgling sounds of pipes being smoked, satisfied sighs from opium smokers, and occasional suppressed coughs.
Reaching the end of the corridor, the man who had spoken earlier lifted the bead curtain in front of him.
. Inside the room, smoke swirled; Tian Darong was reclining obliquely on the opium couch, elegantly using the opium pick to stir the opium paste on the lamp.
Two suppliers nearby trembled in fright at the sight of the large group entering the room, nearly dropping their pipes.
Zuo Mingquan glanced at Tian Darong who was puffing away, a flash of disdain in his eyes.
The previous message received said that this Tian Darong had practiced martial arts since childhood, with a pair of iron fists that could kill a mad cow.
Looking at his current state, after years of pampered living and addicted to opium, he was lucky if he retained thirty percent of his skills.
Tian Darong exhaled a puff of smoke and said lazily: “May I know how to address the guest? I don’t think I’ve met you before.”
Without waiting for the waiter to invite him, Zuo Mingquan sat opposite Tian Darong: “Whether you know me or not doesn’t matter; what’s important is that Your Excellency’s debt must be repaid.”
“Debt? I don’t recall owing the guest any money.” Tian Darong sat up straight and said slowly: “No matter, as the saying goes, at home rely on parents, away from home rely on friends.”
“If Your Excellency is short on cash, a hundred or eighty silver dollars is something I can afford.”
“Qiusheng, go to the account room and withdraw a hundred silver dollars for this mr. as travel money.”
“A hundred silver dollars, Boss Tian is generous.” Zuo Mingquan said with a light laugh: “However, save that money for your coffin.”
“Outrageous,” the two bodyguards behind Tian Darong immediately drew their pistols, but Zuo Mingquan’s men had more guns, one per person.
Seeing this, Tian Darong instantly sobered up; with so many real weapons in their hands, they were clearly not ordinary gang hooligans.
“What exactly are you people? How have I offended you gentlemen?” At this point, though Tian Darong’s tone was sharp, the panic in his expression could no longer be concealed.
“Want to know? I’ll burn it for you after you’re dead.”
“Do it.”
As the words fell, Zuo Mingquan’s chubby body flipped backward with remarkable agility, raising his hand to fire two shots; in an instant, gunfire blazed in the narrow space, bullets splintering the opium couch into wood chips, shattering the opium lamp, with burning opium paste splattering everywhere.
Tian Darong reacted extremely quickly, rolling off the opium couch; his two bodyguards also fired back simultaneously, bullets ricocheting wildly in the cramped space, the walls instantly pocked with bullet holes.
One supplier screamed as he was hit in the chest by a stray bullet; the other curled up in the corner hugging his head and shrieking.
The gunfire acted as a signal; the agents Zuo Mingquan brought had all received basic training and were clearly far more professional than the thugs.
They held real weapons, while Tian Darong’s venue enforcers were still using axes and knives.
Bang bang bang bang, gunfire continued nonstop, screams filling the air.
Bead curtains were shattered by bullets, cloth curtains soaked in blood. Terrified opium smokers either collapsed paralyzed on the ground or tried to flee, only to be struck by stray bullets or caught in the melee.
An opium boy who had just run out of a compartment was pierced through the head by a flying bullet.
The gunfight on the second floor immediately alerted the crowd below; gamblers screamed and fled in panic, while the hooligans downstairs fired signals outward, calling the nearby thugs for support.
However, all of this was already within Zuo Mingquan’s expectations.
On the street, dozens of men wearing short jackets and holding axes had just rushed to the entrance of Fu Shou Guan when suddenly, a group opposite them stood up abruptly, kicked over the tables in front of them, drew pistols, and opened fire.
In just one minute, blood flowed like a river at the entrance; the group of thugs lay dead or wounded, groaning on the ground.
Second floor, opium den,
At this moment, Tian Darong also realized something was wrong; the enemy was clearly out to take his life. Perhaps at this life-or-death moment, his potential burst forth—his figure moved, crashing through the second-floor lattice window, the whole person falling toward the alley below.
He knew full well that falling might mean nine deaths out of ten, but he had no choice; staying up there meant certain death, falling at worst meant severe injury—death wouldn’t come that easily.
However, before he could steady himself, a dozen figures flashed out from the darkness, each holding a pistol.
The leader was a young man in his twenties; he slowly stepped forward to Tian Darong, using his pistol to pat Tian Darong’s cheek: “Airborne acrobat, huh? Boss Tian knows this trick too—quite unexpected.”
“Don’t worry, we don’t plan to kill you so easily; you’re still worth some money. Take him away.”
Tian Darong struggled and said: “What exactly are you people?”
Zhang Zixian sneered: “Nanjing Special Affairs Committee Shanghai Office. Remember, my name is Zhang Zixian.”
