SES Chapter 190 Part 1

Chapter 190

Once he was in the vehicle, Luo Ren was forced into the back seat and blindfolded.

He wasn’t nervous. He asked, “What about my car?”

The person beside him snorted. “Worry about your car if you make it back alive.”

It was a great car, and he hadn’t even had time to lock it. Left so brazenly in the middle of an intersection, it would be bad enough if traffic enforcement towed it away—but if some ridiculously lucky thief came along, drove it off, treated it without care, crashed it around recklessly… what then?

He thought, absurdly, of what Plum Blossom Ninth Lady once said: what thief, at what time, in what place, happens to run into what car—it’s all a matter of fate.

The car started moving.

Since he couldn’t see, he closed his eyes and focused carefully on the bumps of the ride and every sound coming from outside.

The ride was smooth, the speed moderate—this was still within the city, where traffic rules had to be obeyed.

Then the speed increased, almost like racing. The car drifted slightly—this had to be a highway at night, with little traffic.

Then came violent jolting without any speed reduction, swaying wildly like a runaway horse. In the distance and nearby, dogs were startled into barking. The air carried the scent of soil and vegetation.

Luo Ren frowned. They were definitely in the countryside, or at least far out in the suburbs. In a place like this, there was no hope of camera surveillance tracking them.

Now it really came down to improvisation—and whatever mercy heaven might grant.

The final stretch slowed, then stopped. Someone pulled him out of the car without removing the blindfold, and a gun barrel pressed hard into his ribs.

Luo Ren smiled faintly and cooperated.

Compared to Lijiang, the temperature was a bit lower, and the humidity was normal. They were definitely far from the city—there was none of the distinctive urban smell. He heard people speaking in low voices, broken English, saying that the car should leave, that staying here would be too conspicuous.

The car drove away. Faintly, Luo Ren heard the sound of a large gate opening and closing—the kind used at factory complexes.

That left… three people around him.

They were all small-time lackeys. The leopard wasn’t here.

The numbers were exactly what he’d expected. This wasn’t the Philippines. The leopard might run wild in Mindanao, but she couldn’t act with impunity inside China. She wouldn’t have brought in more than ten people—and some of them were already elsewhere, searching for the seventh Murder Slip.

They led him forward again. Another heavy door opened and shut, and the surroundings suddenly went dark. When someone coughed, the sound echoed.

It had to be a huge space. A factory floor?

They walked a bit farther, then stopped. Someone searched him and pulled the dagger he always carried from the small of his back. He thought it would be confiscated, but instead the man shoved the dagger back into his hand and barked roughly, “Go in.”

As he spoke, he gave Luo Ren a hard shove. Luo Ren staggered two steps, then steadied himself.

Footsteps receded. His nose caught the smell of rust and decay. It was so quiet that he could almost sense dust settling in the air.

He hesitated, then reached up to remove the blindfold.

Almost at the same instant, loud bang, bang, bang sounds rang out overhead. Several powerful floodlights snapped on at once from different directions, all focused on a single spot—like stage spotlights trained on a lead actor. The blinding white light stabbed into his eyes.

Luo Ren raised a hand to shield his face. After a moment, he adapted and looked around.

It was a massive abandoned factory. The production lines and machinery had been removed, leaving an empty, cavernous space. High up along the walls ran metal-grate walkways and staircases enclosed with wire mesh. At intervals were small ventilation windows, like eyes embedded in the walls.

The men who’d brought him in had retreated far away, standing motionless against the walls in the shadows.

He looked down at where he was standing. Four massive steel pillars, driven deep into the ground and four or five meters tall, supported chain-link fencing on all sides and overhead. There was a door in one corner.

He was standing inside a steel cage.

Luo Ren glanced at the dagger in his hand and laughed softly.

It wasn’t the same, but the scene was far too familiar.

Underground death matches. Bare-knuckle fights to the death. And among them, the most brutal kind: cage death fights.

Like ancient Roman gladiatorial contests—two people enter, the cage is locked, and it only opens when one of them is dead.

If you lacked the heart to finish it, fine. The cage wouldn’t open. No food, no water. Starving to death inside was also an option.

Cage death fights were rare—even in the Philippines, even across Southeast Asia.

Luo Ren laughed loudly and looked up at the catwalks. “You really want to see me fight that badly? Who’s the challenger? That Thai boxing king, Human again? It’s been a long time—I kind of miss him.”

There was no answer. The upper walkways were silent. Light beams hung in the air. The men stood like shadows, utterly still.

Then, behind him, came the sound of footsteps, growing clearer.

Luo Ren turned around and saw Leopard.

His expression shifted from surprise to a cold smile. “You? Fine.”

She held a gleaming blade as well—small and delicate. Calling it a dagger wasn’t quite accurate. Luo Ren recognized it as a serpentine knife commonly used in Malaysia and Indonesia. The blade had four or five wave-like curves, sinuous as a snake. Near the handle jutted a triangular, serrated guard, meant to trap an opponent’s weapon in close combat.

A cage death fight. Cold steel. Only one of them would walk out alive.

Good. This was exactly right. This was the perfect stage for his revenge. No guns—a cold, indifferent bullet was painless, incapable of appeasing the dead. Cold steel was better: hard, cruel, tearing through flesh, drinking blood.

Luo Ren let out a long breath.

“Where’s Mu Dai?”