SES Chapter 165 Part 1

Chapter 165

Qingmu, Eurice—and all the people they were seeing now—were mercenaries.

All of this was tied to the situation in the Philippines.

According to statistics, anti-government armed groups and government forces had been in constant conflict there for years. The political situation had been unstable for a long time, especially on Mindanao Island in the south, where kidnappings, armed clashes, and extremist incidents occurred one after another. Although conditions had improved in recent years, in early 2015, the South Korean government still issued a special travel alert for that region.

It went without saying that during the years Luo Ren had stayed there, rules and order had been thrown to the wind. Those pearl-like islands surrounded by blue seas had become labeled by international tourism organizations as “the most dangerous travel destinations,” and at the same time, a breeding ground—and paradise—for speculators, adventurers, and all kinds of crime.

Kidnappings targeting the wealthy and foreign tourists happened constantly. The ransoms demanded were often in the tens of millions of dollars. Massive profits attracted more armed groups equipped with modern weapons. Some reports even revealed that police officers were involved in several kidnapping cases, taking a cut of the profits themselves.

That was how private armed groups—like the one Luo Ren later joined—came into existence.

He explained to Mu Dai, “Mercenaries aren’t like what people imagine—cold-blooded killing machines. The word ‘hired’ makes it clear: it’s a business relationship.”

Private armed groups that fought against kidnapping gangs were like unofficial police stations. Though they charged high fees, they became something ordinary people were more willing to trust—a fragile lifeline they could grab onto in a raging current they couldn’t control.

Luo Ren laughed at himself. “There’s a saying: ‘My ambition touches the sky, but my fate lies in the dirt.’ I’ve always had things I insisted on. To put it bluntly, it’s just self-righteousness. For example, when I fought in underground boxing, I’d already stepped into it, but I still tried not to hit too hard, lying to myself that I was leaving some way out for both myself and others. And when I became a mercenary, risking my life to make money, I still hoped the money I earned would let me sleep a little easier at night…”

Mu Dai said, “Maybe that’s why Qingmu and the others valued you.”

Luo Ren thought for a moment, then nodded. “Maybe.”

Living on the edge of a blade, there were always injuries and deaths. Qingmu and Eurice went to underground fight clubs to scout fresh blood for the bosses behind them.

And in their circle, there was a popular saying: the strongest fighting techniques in the world didn’t come from championship arenas or celebrated heroes. They came from the black market—people who had mastered terrifying bare-handed killing skills and had become emotionless machines.

So before meeting Luo Ren, the two of them, along with other brothers, had already spent a long time roaming underground boxing arenas in Mindanao, rejecting contestant after contestant with critical eyes.

Eurice’s rejection reason was usually: “Not as handsome as me.”

Qingmu would say, “This person has no soul.”

Eurice scoffed at Qingmu’s tone. This Japanese man who loved talking about Zen was practically an artsy type whenever he wasn’t holding a gun—playing with his ukulele in his spare time or chanting strange lines.

For example:
“An old pond—
a frog leaps into the water,
a sound.”

Eurice had no idea this was a famous haiku by Matsuo Basho. He only thought it was pure nonsense: of course, it made a splash when it jumped in. Frogs could swim. Unlike him, if he jumped in, he’d only flail around screaming because he was terrified of drowning.

So it was very difficult to get these two people to agree on anything.

Later, Qingmu once said to Luo Ren, “Luo, I think you’re a man with a bottom line. No matter what we do or how bad things get, that bottom line reminds us that we’re still human. You’re different from them. They’re money-making machines. You’re a man making money.”

In the roaring underground fight arena, Qingmu had Eurice keep an eye on Luo Ren.

Eurice wore a brightly colored headscarf like an Indian girl’s sari, spun a small monocular telescope in his hand, and licked a lollipop as he nitpicked Luo Ren. “Asian. Yellow skin. He doesn’t have dark, shiny muscles full of manly power like me…”

Inside the ring, a Thai fighter threw a heavy punch, and Luo Ren was knocked hard to the ground.

Qingmu grew anxious. “Eurice!”

Eurice grinned at him, flashing teeth white as lights. “We agreed—if he’s not more handsome than me, he doesn’t pass…”

Before he could finish, the scarf wrapped around his head was suddenly flung aside. The black muzzle of a gun pointed outward. Before Qingmu could react, gunfire rattled out. Eurice whistled and whooped wildly in excitement…

Mu Dai laughed. She liked Eurice’s mischievous, reckless nature.

“So they rescued you?” she asked.

Luo Ren nodded, then shook his head. “Not that simple. Later, the boss of our private armed group showed up. The fight club boss didn’t dare offend him either—anyone who controlled armed forces got respect.”

He didn’t continue. The meeting between those two people behind the scenes wasn’t only about him. It also led to a series of investments, cooperation, manpower transfers, and even participating in fun fights. Capital and capital were naturally drawn to each other, like love at first sight.

What happened next was predictable: mercenary training, live-fire combat, and taking jobs from wealthy sponsors to fight kidnapping groups. The money came in like a tide. Under their beds, boxes of cash were stacked high—this wasn’t an exaggeration. Once, he and Eurice argued over something trivial and started smashing money boxes at each other. One box burst open, and crisp green U.S. bills flew out like snowflakes.

They instantly forgot what they had been fighting about. Life was so beautiful. Money was falling from the sky—what could be more satisfying than that?

Leaning against the doorframe, holding a bowl of meat soup and watching the chaos, Qingmu still didn’t forget to recite one of his elegant haiku:

“Shredded meat beneath the tree,
vegetable broth above,
cherry blossoms falling…”

Luo Ren’s eyes suddenly burned.

Eurice was gone.

The Eurice who had emptied an entire magazine to save him, who had generously given him his tiny monocular telescope, who had shouldered money boxes and fought with him, was now gone. One quiet white afternoon, he floated silently in a swimming pool, blood spreading around him, blooming into a cruel, blood-red rose.

It was inevitable: continued success made many enemies. One side’s profit was another side’s loss. The most vicious and dangerous of them all was someone known as Leopard.