Chapter 750: How to Choose

Again arriving at the Continental Hotel, the front desk's black bald man, Charon, stood straight as ever, wearing a professional, polite fake smile.

As Wang Yan approached, he greeted: "Mr. Wang, delighted to see you again. How may I assist you?"

Wang Yan placed a gold coin on the counter and pushed it over: "One night."

"Of course, sir. Any other requests for your room?" Charon picked up the coin and neatly stacked it in the box.

"South-facing. The higher, the better."

"As you wish, sir." Charon tapped a few keys on the computer, then handed Wang Yan a keycard. "Room 1 on the nineteenth floor. All food and drinks are complimentary. Enjoy your stay, sir."

"Thank you."

This price was excellent—one gold coin for a night, all meals included. Just as last night, his meal and drinks here had cost three thousand dollars; at the actual value of one gold coin equaling a thousand dollars, it was clearly extremely reasonable. If not for the urgent matter forcing him to confront the High Table, he could have just camped outside the Continental Hotel, hunting down these criminals to collect their corpse coins—also a viable option. Of course, doing so would still earn him a bounty, placing him squarely on the opposite side.

Though using gold coins for lodging seemed cheap and suitable, behind each gold coin lay one or even several lives. After completing a task, the Continental Hotel also took a cut of the bounty. What they gave the task-completer was only one to several gold coins. Thus, the true value of a gold coin far exceeded its nominal thousand-dollar worth—the hidden value came from actual lives.

Wang Yan didn't go up to his room first; instead, he went straight to the restaurant and ordered a pile of food.

Without being asked, Adi herself picked up two glasses, grabbed a bottle of wine, strode over with wide steps and swaying hips toward Wang Yan.

Yesterday, the bar counter had blocked her lower half, so Wang Yan hadn't seen her fully—today, he finally saw the assassin's wine girl's figure: long legs, slender waist, rounded buttocks—a truly devilish physique. Her pinned-up hair revealed the unique allure of a married woman. Though he hadn't actually experienced it, just looking at her brought only one word: lush—very lush…

Yet though he internally praised her, Wang Yan unexpectedly recalled the Sicilian woman who had once looked at him with terrified, helpless eyes—among all the foreign women he'd known, it was Malena he missed most; they had once lived happily together in New York.

Adi sat down opposite him, poured two glasses of wine, pushed one toward Wang Yan, then leaned forward, pressing her deep cleavage into view. She whispered: "Li Zhenkun is dead. Was it you?"

"Only one day, and you already know?"

"Strange? He had some fame and considerable power in Southeast Asia. Many knew him. Was it you?" Adi pressed again.

Perhaps she wasn't a very smart assassin—she naively thought she could extract answers from a man's mouth. But since he hadn't yet truly experienced how "lush" she was, he gave a slight nod: "Are you going to betray me for the bounty? I'd guess they'd pay you a million dollars for the tip."

"Of course not. I like you more." Adi giggled. "I checked the scene—seventeen dead, all killed by knives. You're incredible. Someone like you should've been famous worldwide long ago. Why are you only showing up now?"

"I used to live a quiet life."

"Why stop?"

"Because I was poor."

Wang Yan spoke nonsense with his mouth full, raised his glass, and drank with her, then asked: "What about you? How long have you been doing this?"

"Eight years."

"How old are you?"

"Asking a woman her age so bluntly isn't polite, Eastern gentleman." Adi shot him a sultry glance. Seeing Wang Yan didn't flirt back, she shrugged, looking unimpressed. "I'm thirty-four. Joined the army at eighteen, served seven years, then took up this path after discharge."

Wang Yan nodded, drank another sip with her to show approval, then asked: "What do you think of the High Table?"

"They set the rules, guard the rules, obey the rules."

"Ever thought about retiring?"

"Not everyone is John Wick. Not everyone has the luck to complete impossible tasks. Better to live day by day like this."

Adi's tone wasn't good—she still felt resentment.

One wrong step, and your whole life is ruined. Easy to enter, hard to leave. She'd done this eight years, only taking simple jobs, killing for eight years—she should've saved a few million dollars. With careful investments, that money could buy a house, open a small shop, and live peacefully.

But sadly, assassins are human. They rarely have the discipline to save. Money comes too easily, too fast—a small job nets a few thousand dollars; a high-difficulty one, tens of thousands. And since they know they can't escape, why save? Live for today, spend wildly, chase thrills—each one more reckless than the next.

Adi was probably the same. Had she had John's ideals, saved some money, she wouldn't be working as a bartender at the Continental Hotel. But her habit of seeking out strong, attractive men for passionate release—Wang Yan decided to withhold judgment.

He spoke calmly: "Adi, though you're still beautiful and radiant, I must admit—thirty-four isn't young. Your skin is loosening, wrinkles are growing, maintaining strength is already difficult, and further progress is nearly impossible. Yet your tasks haven't changed: low bounties you disdain and can't get; high bounties you can barely complete. Have you ever thought about your end?"

"Just dying on someone else's gun barrel during a job. Wang, that's our fate. What difference does it make?" Adi said indifferently.

"If so, why not take on an impossible task?"

"Right now, I don't know when I'll die. But an impossible task—I know I'll die for sure. Why not live a little longer, enjoy a little longer?"

Wang Yan smiled and nodded—he knew this was self-deception. Like everyone dies—by illness, by old age, by violence—why not risk death in life, fight with your life? Because no one wants to die early.

"Food's here. Let's enjoy the meal, Adi. Eat well—we're about to face a long war."

"Wang, don't brag. If it's not long, I'm afraid I'll lose my patience and blow your cock off."

An assassin who didn't value human life could still be shockingly flirtatious.

"We'll see." Wang Yan raised an eyebrow.

After eating and drinking their fill, they went upstairs to rest in the room.

The activity ended in the late night. Assassins were different—even though she'd rolled her eyes at one point, she was still awake.

Seeing Wang Yan sitting on the bed edge, smoking, wearing only underwear, his muscles carved like chiseled stone, paired with his Eastern mystical tattoos—perfectly complementary, stunningly handsome.

Adi, who'd drunk to quench her thirst, lay on the bed smoking too. She asked hoarsely, languidly: "Wang, why did you ask me that question earlier? You just entered, did one task, haven't even seen the highest view—yet you want to challenge an impossible task?"

"Adi, why do you assume I want to quit the High Table, rather than overthrow it?"

Adi, still fully satisfied, froze. Her eyes widened in shock. Her Western features, usually alluring, now looked almost ugly.

"Are you insane?"

She hissed: "The High Table is invincible. Behind it are the Mafia, the Camorra, the Glorious Order, Shankou, the Russian Mafia, the Hongmen—twelve organizations altogether. They're the world's most powerful criminal forces. And legend says behind them are global conglomerates—even governments. You're just one man. You want to fight the whole world?"

"Though I hate to say it, Wang, let's find a place. I'll use my Glock 34 to fire a bullet of love into you. Don't worry—I'll bury you in the best cemetery. It's more realistic, and you'll keep your whole body, won't you?"

Wang Yan smiled: "The High Table isn't invincible—it's just never been defeated. The world isn't ruled solely by the High Table. The conglomerates don't truly control everything. You know as well as I do—how could so many factions under the High Table ever unite? And within the conglomerates themselves, isn't there constant power struggle?"

"Those things exist, yes—but they only need to offer ten million dollars in bounty to make you flee for your life. You may be strong, hard to kill—but I suspect it's only because the bounty wasn't high enough. If they truly felt threatened, they'd offer a hundred million. At that point, everyone becomes your enemy. Who wouldn't want to kill you? How could you possibly overthrow the High Table?"

"You wouldn't kill me for a hundred million, would you?"

"Who knows?"

Wang Yan smiled: "For assassins, even two or three million isn't safe. Whoever collects the bounty will eventually die violently. Someone will capture his family to force him, or if he has none, capture him and torture him. This money isn't easy to earn. People may briefly go mad, but they won't stay foolish forever. Too little, no one takes it; too much, few dare to take it; in between, they hesitate. Your scenario will happen—but how long will it last?"

Listening to Wang Yan's serious analysis, Adi asked: "You're not serious about doing this, are you?"

"Who knows?"

Adi stared fixedly at Wang Yan's smiling profile for a long time, then said: "You're truly insane."

"Take it as a compliment."

Extinguishing the cigarette, Wang Yan got up and got into bed, wrapping his arms around the female assassin with the stunning figure, and fell asleep just like that.

Just as Wang Yan was fighting the female assassin, John Wick, seeking revenge for his dog, went on a bloody rampage exactly as depicted in the movie; Wang Yan did not interfere, so the overall course of events remained largely unchanged.

That thief who killed the dog and stole the car had a father who was an old acquaintance of John Wick, because John was determined to kill the little thief, and reconciliation failed. The mob boss was a man who valued face, so he put out a bounty on John Wick, ordered his son to go into hiding, hired John's good friend to kill him, and paid heavily to break the rule of the Continental Hotel forbidding violence within its walls, intending to kill John inside the hotel.

But John Wick was immensely powerful, and his friend could not bring himself to act, instead helping him; thus, John Wick narrowly escaped danger, then went on another bloody rampage and successfully killed the dog-killer. At this point, the dog-killer's father discovered his friend's assistance to John, so he killed that friend. Everything had seemingly ended, but because of this act, combined with the earlier violation of the hotel's rules, the dog-killer's father, who was about to flee, was betrayed by Winston, the Continental's manager, who revealed his location to John Wick.

As expected, John Wick, invincible and fierce, caught up with his former acquaintance and killed the mob boss. Then he went to an unknown pet store to find medicine for himself, locked eyes with a pure black Staffordshire bull terrier, and stole the dog…

After bringing the dog home, John Wick went out again for his car. The car was in the possession of the mob boss's younger brother; John went on another bloody rampage, subdued the mob boss's brother, and finally settled their grudge with a shot of hard liquor. John successfully drove his wrecked, broken-down car back home.

This entire process lasted a week.

That afternoon, Wang Yan finally drove home. After changing clothes at home, he strolled casually to John Wick's house.

He rang the doorbell, and after a short while, John Wick opened the door—his face covered in wounds, dressed in casual clothes, his body still smeared with dirt. He didn't even look at Wang Yan, turning back into the house immediately.

Wang Yan knew this meant John Wick had grown familiar enough with him as a neighbor. He also knew the kid had just been scrubbing the floor in the basement, putting away his weapons, and believed he could finally return to a peaceful life—so he had put back everything he'd taken out with his heavy hammer.

"John, you broke your word."

"Sorry, many unexpected things happened along the way. But everything's settled now. Tomorrow I'll take you to find the person. And haven't you been enjoying yourself lately with Ardy? Consider it a chance for you two to bond. After all, once you truly begin your operation, you won't have this kind of mood anymore."

For these past few days, Wang Yan had been staying at the hotel—not just with Ardy, but with the woman Ardy introduced to him, who had already submitted. Mainly because Wang Yan's trail had gone cold, and he was waiting to confront the High Table with real weapons, so he was relaxing before battle. John had also stayed at the hotel for two nights; they'd met, which was why he said this.

"Then you're underestimating me. Is this your new dog? What's its name?" Wang Yan said, whistling playfully as he watched the black puppy sitting quietly, panting.

John Wick, pouring himself a drink, glanced over and shook his head: "Not named yet, but it'll probably be Des."

"Your wife named the previous dog? Good name."

"How did you know?"

"Hard to guess?" Wang Yan shook his head with a smile, then said, "Want to join me?"

"I want a quiet life. I don't want to go with you to die."

"Looks like everything I told you before was wasted. Do you really think you've escaped the High Table? It's just that nothing required your services during that period—or perhaps you vanished for so long that many forgot you. But this time, you made such a huge commotion—do you really think it's over? The High Table isn't your business; it's not something you can come and go from as you please. Past experience has taught me one rule."

"What?" John placed his glass on the table in front of Wang Yan, generously offering him a drink.

Normally, he wouldn't waste words. But having killed his enemies and avenged his dog, he was happy. Though unwilling to admit it, the recent killings had truly stirred his blood. Wang Yan was an acquaintance, so he offered him a rare good mood.

Wang Yan raised an eyebrow: "Often, when something bad happens, it's not the beginning—you'll find that what follows is worse and worse. And you, John, your troubles have only just begun."

"Then tell me, what are my troubles?"

"Lately, I haven't just been sleeping with women—I also heard the High Table has a contract called a Blood Oath. The Continental, or the High Table's rules, forbid violence within the hotel, but the Blood Oath must be fulfilled. John, over the years, haven't you ever needed someone's help? Should I explain the Blood Oath rules to you again?"

"Kill everyone named in the Blood Oath, or die. Refuse to complete the Blood Oath, or die. Fail to complete the Blood Oath or violate its terms, and death is determined by investigation." John's voice turned icy again, because the damn Oriental's words gave him a bad feeling.

Wang Yan nodded, downing a shot of Russian vodka: "So, John—if someone now comes to you with a Blood Oath, what will you choose? Shoot them in the head? Congratulations—you'll face endless, unrelenting pursuit from the High Table, until one of you is dead. If you complete the Blood Oath, then try to kill the holder afterward? Congratulations—you've plunged yourself into endless trouble again."

"And the person who can make you sign a Blood Oath must have considerable power. What if that person hides inside the Continental and refuses to leave? Then what will you choose? Kill or not? If he lives, he'll pursue you endlessly. If you kill him, you break the Continental's rules—and you'll still be hunted. John, have you truly thought this through?"

At that moment, the doorbell rang in a rhythmic pattern.

John Wick spun around sharply, staring at the door, then turned back to look at the damn Oriental sitting there, giving the dog a drink…

Wang Yan shrugged indifferently and smiled: "I have a feeling your trouble's arrived. So—what will you choose?"

John Wick glared at Wang Yan with his eyes several times, then took a deep breath and walked hesitantly toward the door…