Future Masters in Modern Times

Chapter 35: Fire Wolf Mercenaries

This was footage from the surveillance cameras; there were cameras in nearly every corner of Black Flag Street. By monitoring the cameras, Aleks kept track of what was happening in every corner of the street at all times. He had simply turned on the CCTV on a whim and glanced at it casually. Just one glance, and he couldn’t stay calm! “Impressive skills,” Aleksandr Lian nodded repeatedly, though a wolf-like gleam flickered deep in his eyes. He turned to his men and said, “Go! Give him a chance to say whether he’s willing to work for me. If he refuses…” Aleks said expressionlessly, “Just kill him. Take your gun with you.” The henchman watched Zhao Wuji wreak havoc on the screen, feeling quite conflicted. But then he thought to himself, “Surely he can’t be afraid of a gun, can he?” Only then did his mind settle. At that very moment, on Black Flag Street. Several men and women were walking slowly along the street, glancing around from time to time. Leading the group was a woman with a stunning figure. Her wine-red hair fell to her ears, giving her a crisp, sharp look. Her eyes appeared deep and pensive, yet a fiery intensity burned within them; the corners of her eyes held a seductive allure that was utterly captivating, and her full, red lips glistened with an alluring sheen. She wore a tight-fitting black leather outfit that fully showcased her sultry figure and alluring silhouette. Behind her followed two men. They were burly, with solid, sinewy muscles; both arms were tattooed with wolf heads, their fists calloused and wrapped in layer upon layer of cloth. “Anne, what’s there to see here? We’d be better off going back to get some rest,” one of the men complained discontentedly to the stunner named Anne; it seemed she was the one leading the group. “Hegel, shut your mouth.” The other man, stern and unsmiling, scolded Hegel when he saw him complaining. “Krum, you’re the more obedient one.” Anne, who had been walking ahead, stopped, turned around, gently brushed a strand of hair from her ear, and shot Hegel a half-smile. Hagel felt a chill run through his body and, terrified, dared not say another word. The three of them formed a small mercenary squad, and Anne—despite being a woman—was the squad’s captain. She appeared to be a stunning beauty, but her fighting skills were no joke—neither of the other two squad members stood a chance against her. She was like a rose with thorns—a black rose, at that. Utterly alluring, yet no one dared to get close—the slightest misstep would result in a prick. All three were highly skilled in firearms and hand-to-hand combat—true elite mercenaries. They had been dispatched to Siberia on this mission to carry out an important task. The Firewolf Mercenaries are a top-tier force in the global mercenary world, and Anne and her team belong to a subordinate squad within the Firewolf Mercenaries. It was the perfect time to bring in new blood, and the sources of the Firewolf Mercenaries’ members were quite diverse. Boxers eliminated from the Siberian Training Camp each year are one of their primary targets. Naturally, those who successfully enter the Siberian Training Camp are all top-tier candidates, and even the fighters who are weeded out possess physical abilities far surpassing those of the average person. Thanks to their excellent physical condition, these individuals can quickly become outstanding mercenaries with the right training. This mission was one of the rare easy ones. As soon as they arrived, Annie, unable to sit still, asked to take a casual stroll around the area. Hagel, who was always talkative, grumbled incessantly about it, while Krum was more reserved and didn’t say much; he never uttered a single complaint about Captain Anne’s orders. The three had been wandering around for about half an hour when they suddenly heard a loud bang. Tracing the source of the sound, the three of them froze in shock. There, an Asian man was wielding a billboard that stood in stark contrast to his small stature, sending wave after wave of thugs flying with apparent ease. “Who… who is he?” Hegel stammered, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Anne shot him a disdainful glance, mocking him for being so wide-eyed and overreacting due to his lack of worldly experience. Her gaze shifted back to the Asian man, her eyes sparkling with admiration. This Eastern man was, of course, Zhao Wuji. He swept through the crowd, invincible, leaving countless thugs lying at his feet. It could be said that the trail of destruction he left behind—from the street corner all the way to where he now stood—was littered with bodies strewn haphazardly in every direction. Anne murmured to herself, “If we could recruit him into our mercenary group, wouldn’t that be a major coup?” The more she thought about it, the more she felt that this idea was truly wonderful. Heigel shook his head, finding the idea rather unrealistic. “Captain, he might actually be here to join the training camp. Besides, with him causing such a commotion right now, who knows what’ll happen next? Given all these uncertainties, Captain, you’d better drop this idea before it goes any further.” Anne shot Yihagel a sharp glance, cutting off Yihagel’s urge to say more. “His feet are attached to his own body. As long as we offer enough incentives, why wouldn’t he join? With his skills, he’ll definitely have a bright future as an S-rank mercenary.” “An S-rank mercenary?” Both Hegel and Krum were taken aback. “That’s the pinnacle of the mercenary world—it’s not something you can just become. We’re only B-rank mercenaries right now. All he’s shown so far is a bit more strength, right? Is that really worth all this attention?” Hager was clearly skeptical and dismissive. “Just a bit stronger?” Annie glared at Hegel. “That’s exactly what it is!” Hegel retorted indignantly. He flexed his arm, instantly revealing the bulging muscles beneath the skin, as if to prove he wasn’t weak either. “Put away your chicken drumsticks,” Anne said, waving her delicate, orchid-colored finger—painted with purple nail polish—in annoyance, then glaring at Hegel. “If—and I mean if—you can lift that billboard, wave it around so effortlessly while holding it, and at the same time swat people away like flies, then you can say that to me.” Hagel clamped his mouth shut and said nothing. Anne gave Hegel’s shoulder a sharp slap with her right hand and continued, “Now, you must agree with me. With his abilities, becoming an S-rank mercenary would be a piece of cake. So, as long as I offer him the perk of becoming an S-rank mercenary, he’ll definitely agree.” Anne looked as though she had everything under control. “As for the matters at hand,” Anne said dismissively, “with his strength, sorting these out would be a piece of cake—though I have no idea why he’s doing this.” Anne watched Zhao Wuji from a distance, her eyes brimming with admiration. “Come on, let’s follow him and see what’s going on,” Anne called out to Hager and Krum, motioning for them to follow and find out. Zhao Wuji had lost count of how many waves of attackers he’d already sent flying; he couldn’t even be bothered to keep track. What seemed like an unbelievable feat to others was, to him, no different from swatting flies with a racket. With a slight wave of the billboard in his hand, Zhao Wuji casually sent two more thugs flying—he was starting to feel a bit Mamu to it all. Up ahead, quite a few thugs hesitated, unwilling to advance. Glancing at the numerous comrades lying haphazardly behind the Asian man, they felt a chill run down their spines. A moment later, the thugs scattered. Then, to his surprise, a man with a swollen, red lip stepped forward and walked toward him. As he walked, he pulled out a submachine gun. Zhao Wuji’s gaze turned cold; he loosened his grip slightly, preparing to drop the signboard to ensure his movements remained agile. “Impressive moves?” The man’s speech was slurred—probably because his mouth was swollen. “But no matter how skilled you are, can you really outdo this?” He raised the gleaming submachine gun, his defiance unmistakable. Seeing that Zhao Wuji hadn’t made a move, he assumed Zhao Wuji was afraid of him. “I’ll give you a chance. My boss has a contract. If you sign it, I’ll spare your life today.” The man looked as if he took it for granted, as if he’d already got Zhao Wuji completely cornered. “If you don’t know your place, it looks like my boss’s shark will have a nice meal today!” A thought crossed Zhao Wuji’s mind, and he seemed to have made up his mind. With a loud “clang,” Zhao Wuji dropped the signboard he was holding, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll go with you,” Zhao Wuji said with utter calm. The man secretly wiped a bead of sweat from his brow; he’d finally pulled it off without incident, and now he no longer took Zhao Wuji seriously. “So what if he’s so tough? Faced with this gun in my hand, he’s still just going to have to do as I say.” The thugs parted to make a path, and the man led Zhao Wuji toward the boxing gym. “He’s showing weakness—what a coward,” Hegel said with growing disdain, while Krum also looked down on Zhao Wuji. As mercenaries, they’d been in life-and-death situations year after year, treating life and death as a matter of routine. If Zhao Wuji was truly as he appeared right now, he really wasn’t cut out to be a mercenary. Given their own strength, they’d still have a fighting chance in a situation like this—let alone Zhao Wuji, whose abilities far surpassed theirs—yet here he was, showing weakness at a moment like this. Although Anne was reluctant to believe that Zhao Wuji was such a coward, the reality before her eyes made her unable to help but harbor doubts. As a mercenary, it doesn’t matter if you’re weak, but you absolutely must not be afraid of death. Otherwise, no matter how strong an individual may be, they are destined to be ostracized by the mercenary world—and even the lowest-ranking mercenary unit wouldn’t want someone like that. Cowards and those who fear death have no place on the battlefield! Is he that kind of person? Anne couldn’t help but ask herself. The onlookers looked down on Zhao Wuji as he cowered under the threat of a gun. Just moments ago, he had been so powerful, so arrogant—yet faced with a single gun, he had backed down. Contempt, schadenfreude, sympathy—all sorts of glances converged on Zhao Wuji, but he remained impassive, ignoring their stares. This only served to heighten some people’s animosity toward him. “He’s been cornered like this, so why is he still pretending to be some kind of master? So calm—who is he trying to impress?” Anne blended into the crowd, trailing far behind Zhao Wuji as she watched the situation unfold. The gym’s doors had opened early. Two rows of thugs dressed in black stared coldly at Zhao Wuji, as if trying to overwhelm him with their sheer presence. Zhao Wuji ignored it all, walked straight up the steps, and entered the boxing gym. Once everyone had entered the gym, the enforcers put on stern faces and shut the doors. The two doors slowly closed, and everything seemed to return to silence. As Zhao Wuji walked into the gym, he saw a burly figure with his back to him, bare-chested, wiping the sweat from his body with a cloth. On the man’s back, a tattoo of a Polar Bear seemed to come to life with his movements, looking incredibly ferocious. It was none other than Aleks. When Zhao Wuji walked into the hall and stood there, he pretended not to notice, merely gesturing to his men. A moment later, several henchmen carried a man into the room. Zhao Wuji glanced at him and recognized him as the man whose limbs he had broken on the bus. “Do you know him?” Aleks finally spoke, pointing at the man with all four limbs broken and looking down at Zhao Wuji from above. Zhao Wuji’s lips curled into a smile as he said, “Of course I recognize him—I crushed every one of his limbs myself. So, have you asked him if he’s grateful to me?” “You’re pretty cocky! I just wonder if you still have the right to be so cocky now,” Aleks said with a cold laugh as he picked up a gleaming handgun. “Boss, kill him, kill him… Ah.” The man whose limbs had been severed by Zhao Wuji could now move only his head; he strained to turn it toward Zhao Wuji, his eyes brimming with venomous hatred. “Hmm? Still not convinced?” Zhao Wuji turned toward the man, lunging forward with his hand outstretched like a claw. “You dare!” Aleks roared in fury. “Why wouldn’t I dare?” Zhao Wuji ignored the guns pointed at him, instantly closing the distance to the man and smashing his head to pieces with a single palm strike. The man, who had already been clinging to life by a thread, now had his skull shattered, his soul scattered to the winds. How utterly brazen! Too arrogant!