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墨書 Inktalez
Before long, Zhao Mingkun had selected three people, and including himself, he found a total of four assistants for me. As the organizer of this event, Zhao Mingkun naturally had to participate. The other three he chose each had their own strengths: one was exceptionally skilled with a gun, another was adept at crafting various traps and gadgets, and the last one seemed rather unremarkable, leaving me puzzled about Zhao Mingkun's reasoning for selecting him. However, since Zhao Mingkun was also a participant in this game, I assumed he wouldn't take it lightly.
Each of these chosen individuals was given fifty thousand dollars upfront, and then they were sent out in the city to enjoy themselves with some company. After all, once they joined this game, their lives were no longer in their own hands. The rest of the people left the room, seemingly having been assigned some tasks by Zhao Mingkun earlier. Once everyone had departed, only Zhao Mingkun and I remained in the room.
At this point, I still had no idea what this game was all about. I leaned back on the bed and asked, "Zhao Mingkun, your subordinates are getting fifty or sixty thousand each, so why am I left with nothing? This doesn't seem fair. After all, you brought me here; shouldn't I get at least a hundred or eighty thousand? How else am I supposed to serve you?"
"Only now are you thinking about this?" Zhao Mingkun scoffed lightly before continuing, "You missed your chance back in Jing City. Now that you're here with us, do you have any way out? Regretting your decision now? What were you doing back then? But since I feel sorry for you, would you like me to find you a couple of ladies?"
"Or maybe just the two of us?" He winked at me.
I shook my head helplessly and replied seriously, "No, no! I can't accept that! Let's skip that topic. What exactly is this Murder Game about? How do we participate? You need to explain it clearly; I don't want to be left in the dark and end up getting killed without knowing what happened."
Then Zhao Mingkun explained in detail what this so-called Murder Game entailed.
It turned out that this was a tradition established by the Mafia in this area long ago: instead of resorting to violence to gather opinions and suggestions, they opted for more subtle means. Although the Mafia controlled this place, there hadn't been much fighting for over a century. To survive on this land, they had shifted from open conflict to covert battles.
After all, no one would openly declare themselves as ruthless killers. The crime rate here isn't high; true Mafia members have moved away from street brawls and random killings—those acts are left to petty criminals. According to Zhao Mingkun, these days they deal in arms and drugs and then launder their profits through legitimate businesses; that's the real Italian Mafia.
This time both factions were vying for a box—though that box was surely just a metaphor and not something specific. The exact item they were fighting over would not be disclosed to us participants. The rules of the game were actually quite simple; it became clear why they wanted me involved—it was perfect for me.
The competition involved one or more individuals creating multiple murder cases within the city. Our task was to identify the murderer in the shortest time possible; whoever found the killer first would win the game. The winning side would receive that so-called box while the losing side would have to sacrifice a few lives as a form of acknowledgment of their failure—a way to save face.
Each team could have a maximum of five participants; no more than that. Others could not assist from behind the scenes; if discovered, the remaining Mafia members in the city would unite against them. Thus, no one dared break this rule—hence we could only bring five people.
The Killer would be someone chosen by other Mafia members not involved in either faction. If everyone felt that neither side could find the Killer, that person would be offered a substantial reward and start leaving clues until captured. Typically, these Killers were highly intelligent individuals; after all, such competitions didn't happen often—both sides took them very seriously.
Our situation was a bit complicated because we were not part of the Mafia. Instead, Zhao Mingkun had forced himself into this competition to rely on them as a backing. This meant that if the side Zhao Mingkun depended on lost, both he and I would be putting our lives on the line.
During the competition, there were no rules; it was all about who could catch the Killer first. Before that moment, you could send your people to assassinate the five opponents, while your team slowly searched for the Killer. This was considered a legitimate tactic. Alternatively, you could follow these individuals closely and eliminate them just before they made their move; that was also acceptable.
Once a team made contact with the Killer, the other team could no longer make any reckless moves, or they would face complete annihilation. In simple terms, it was all about results rather than methods. This aligned perfectly with their mindset: as long as the goal was achieved, any means were justified.
I rubbed my temples and asked Zhao Mingkun, "When did this game start? How many Killers are there? How do we know when the game has begun?"
Zhao Mingkun shrugged and replied, "In fact, the game started the moment we walked out of the old man's room. We can't determine when the Killer will strike—maybe in a day, maybe right now, or even a week from now. Similarly, we can't know how many people they will send. That's what makes this game interesting; despite their seemingly refined demeanor, their enjoyment is far more sinister than ours."
I could relate to that feeling. During my previous encounters with Young Master Lin on that private island, I had sensed it too. These people appeared to be philanthropic and dined elegantly in restaurants, but their behind-the-scenes activities were chillingly unbelievable. Sometimes beneath a facade of hypocrisy lay something rotten and festering.
I nodded and said to Zhao Mingkun, "If we count from that moment, we won't discover anything useful within at least twelve hours. Even killing requires some time." I shook my head helplessly, unable to believe I was entangled in such matters—knowing a murderer was about to kill while I sat here doing nothing.
But there was little I could do now; after all, this wasn't my home country. I was in a state of being at someone else's mercy, like fish on a chopping board. All I could do was rely on my abilities to find the Criminal as quickly as possible and minimize the bloodshed among innocent people.
Thinking along those lines, I turned to Zhao Mingkun and said, "Why don't you take this opportunity to find those five opponents? After eliminating them, we can slowly search for the Killer."
Zhao Mingkun looked at me with a strange expression and said, "I didn't expect you to have such malicious thoughts. Aren't you always claiming to be righteous?"
I laughed and replied, "Some people kill with guns or knives. But others have far more insidious methods; they may not have blood on their hands but have caused more deaths than those who do. They didn't rise through normal means either. The ordinary citizens who are oppressed lose their land or homes and end up on the streets or freezing to death. Killing in such an invisible manner is perhaps even more wicked! No matter how noble-sounding their names are or how powerful they seem, it doesn't change this reality!"
"Some people idolize such individuals," I shook my head and continued, "but that's only because they haven't faced such situations themselves. These people might give you a hundred dollars in front of you, but when you return home, you'll find your house has been demolished by them without even realizing it. Our country lacks organized crime precisely because of this!"
I don't know if talking to people from such an organization is useful, but sometimes, darkness is just darkness. We can't call it a gray area just because it occasionally shines. Zhao Mingkun listened to my words, furrowing his brow. After a moment of silence, he said, "To be honest, where do you plan to go before these people participate in the competition?"
Hearing Zhao Mingkun's words, I suddenly realized that he was quite cunning. It seemed I would have to be careful when dealing with him in the future. Since everyone knew that participating could lead to death, there were only three types of people in this world: those involved in gambling, drugs, and other vices.
The last type could obviously be ruled out; I assumed my opponents wouldn't be the kind who were physically weak. The most likely scenario was the first one—under precarious circumstances, what else could a man do? It seemed I had underestimated Zhao Mingkun. I said, "So now, should we look for this place in the city?"
Zhao Mingkun nodded and replied, "Actually, when I sent these people out, I already secretly instructed them. If they encounter anyone, don’t hesitate—shoot to kill."
I shook my head and said, "That means you still don't fully trust me. However, we are in this together now; if you don't rely on me, who else can you depend on?"
At that moment, Zhao Mingkun took out two handguns from a bag. He hid one in his pants and said, "That's right; you are someone we've put a lot of effort into bringing here. So you know how much we value this mission. Don't mess it up; otherwise, it's not just you who will die."
As he spoke, Zhao Mingkun handed me the other gun and asked, "Don't want it? Or is it hard for you to accept?"
I smiled and shook my head before saying, "Just give me a dagger."
On my first voyage at sea, I encountered the renowned Bengal Aid Worker. Young and impulsive, but too poor to actually fire a shot until the First Mate told me that a bag of instant noodles could get me through the night with a group of women...
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