Chapter 92

"Those who can endure it are truly tough."

Bernard had pushed his limits. After nearly thirteen minutes of agonizing screams, he finally begged for mercy.

"Please... let me go..."

His voice quivered, conveying desperation. The man before him felt like a demon, and Bernard believed that even God wouldn't forgive him. Yet, he lacked the courage to seek divine justice and had no choice but to beg for his life.

Tang Dao's face darkened as he grabbed his knife and fork from the table, walked over, raised an eyebrow, and whispered in Bernard's ear, "Why did you provoke me? Do you think I won't kill you?"

"No, no, no!" Bernard confessed frantically.

"Is there more?" Tang Dao inquired.

"There's Grant. He told me he despises you, calls you 'yellow-skinned trash,' claims you're polluting the United States, and thinks you're not submissive enough. He wants to use you to stand out. He even mentioned contacting the FBI and Interpol to investigate you."

Bernard's voice trembled as he divulged everything he knew, drenched in fear.

Grant?

Tang Dao frowned, then gradually released his grip. It seemed Ying Jiang was accustomed to being the boss and had to meddle in everything, believing Tang Dao wasn't obedient enough.

"I'm not a dog!"

"Did he accept the check I asked you to send?" Tang Dao turned to Robert and inquired.

"He did," Robert confirmed.

"Did he say anything else?"

Robert pondered for a moment, then shook his head. "No."

"I see." Bernard was desperate to live and spilled everything, "At that time, he mentioned that the three hundred thousand was enough for his daughter's education. He said I should thank you for the opportunity."

Tang Dao's expression soured. Did that blasted Grant intend to take advantage and take the fall for his own actions? Why involve himself in such a good deal? Tang Dao tilted his head, placed a cigarette in his mouth, and lit it. In these moments, everyone watched him closely, "Are you all playing with me?"

"Are you all playing with me?" Tang Dao suddenly snapped, with an intense expression. He grabbed Bernard's right foot and pressed it onto the hot iron stool. Bernard howled and attempted to kick with his left foot, but the employees intervened.

Sizzle...

Smoke wafted from the sole of his right foot, emitting a barbecue scent. Tang Dao was still seething as he continuously struck Bernard's abdomen, causing him to convulse and lose consciousness, his mouth drooling and his eyes twitching.

After venting his anger, Tang Dao's temper eased. He rubbed his aching wrist, turned around, picked up the fallen cigarette, and placed it back in his mouth. It couldn't go to waste; nearly 4 cents was too extravagant.

"I'll leave him to you. Since the American doesn't know what to do, convey my regards to his family."

Tang Dao exhaled a long breath, spoke calmly, and then walked out of the room. It was drizzling outside. Jin Dun was the first to rush out and open an umbrella, while muffled screams echoed from within the room.

Osborne used a chain to strangle Bernard to death.

"Dispose of the body and feed it to the dogs?" He looked at Robert and inquired.

"Send it as an early Christmas present to Mr. Cecilio."

...

Cecilio paced nervously, Bernard had disappeared!

He had called Bernard repeatedly, but received no response. He even visited Bernard's mansion, but it was vacant, and the bodyguards were absent. Later, he was informed that Bernard's bodyguard convoy, along with Bernard, had been attacked about 2 kilometers from his location.

But there was no sign of Bernard.

"Boss, there's news."

An employee rushed in, his shirt drenched in sweat.

"What's the news?" Cecilio inquired urgently.

"It was Aidid's men," the employee reported.

Aidid?

Cecilio instinctively shook his head in disbelief. Black people wouldn't dare touch Bernard, even if you gave them tenfold courage. Bernard was the spokesperson for Seager Company, after all.

But then he pondered, why not? Why couldn't Aidid's men be involved? Perhaps, in their eyes, Aidid was just an ordinary, even unsightly, uncivilized race—a primitive wearing clothes. Their weapons were outdated, and they lacked basic air defense. Once a Black Hawk helicopter took off, they were doomed!

They lacked the courage to resist.

In Grant's view, Gulf War had filled him with hubris.

"No, it must be the Asian. He must have done it," Cecilio asserted.

"But... it's Eddie's doing," the employee hesitated.

Aidid's people?

Impossible, Cecilio saw Aidid as nothing more than a "humanoid." In his mind, Aidid was a race that had barely evolved, a group that had simply donned clothing and learned to walk upright. Their weaponry was primitive, with no advanced air defense systems. All it took was a Black Hawk helicopter, and they would crumble!

But now, things had taken an alarming turn. Grant had underestimated his opponent.

"Grant, you're playing with fire," Cecilio muttered under his breath. Fueled by anger, he ordered his men to suppress the other party, only to find Bernard dead. It was all too coincidental.

Yet, it was also deeply unsettling.

Grant had believed that he was dealing with a "docile" Asian, but it turned out that the person on the other side had shed the "easy to bully" image and taken decisive action. The revelation left Grant with a sense of foreboding. Something was amiss. Grant seemed to recall something and, under the adjutant's puzzled gaze, rushed back to his office to make an overseas phone call.

"Hi... Hello, it's Adele," his wife's voice on the other end.

...