Chapter 71: Can the French Be Trusted?

In the night, the Eastern Concession lay in dead silence.

Wu Teng Qianqiu stood by the window of a Western-style house in the Concession, watching the empty street outside. The once bustling lanes now held only a few solitary street lamps swaying in the cold wind. The charred ruins of burned buildings cast snarling shadows in the moonlight, as if silently accusing the bloodshed of that night.

"Mr. Wu Teng," a voice with a French accent said from behind, "Sorry to keep you waiting."

Wu Teng turned around, looking at the tall, thin Frenchman before him. Marcel, as always, wore an exquisite tailored suit, and the chain of his pocket watch glinted coldly in the light.

"Mr. Marcel," Wu Teng gave a slight nod, "Traveling here at midnight, you've worked hard."

Marcel is the assistant to Director General Lei Nuo of the Public Administration Bureau of the French Concession, and within Shen City's French sphere of influence, countless unknown secrets hide behind his smiling face.

"Regarding tomorrow," Marcel elegantly lit a cigar, the pale blue smoke curling in the air, "Director Lei has already made arrangements. Within a hundred meters of the Da San Yuan Restaurant, our men will be on guard."

"Very well," Wu Teng's fingers lightly brushed his samurai sword at his waist, "In your French Concession, I suppose Director Lin must also know some rules."

"Rules?" Marcel chuckled, "Mr. Wu Teng, if I may be frank, in Shen City Lin Yu never follows any rules."

"Oh?" Wu Teng narrowed his eyes, "What, even you French can't handle him?"

Marcel took a deep puff of his cigar, the smoke swirling before his pallid face, "It's not that we can't, but… this man is too dangerous. His actions in the French Concession even make Director Lei think twice before acting."

"Dangerous?" Wu Teng's scar on his left eye looked especially snarling in the light, "When the Ninth Division arrives, I'll see what tricks he still has!"

"The Ninth Division?" Marcel's gaze suddenly sharpened, "Mr. Wu Teng, are you sure you want to go that far?"

"Mr. Marcel," Wu Teng's voice turned icy, "The dignity of the Eastern Empire cannot be desecrated. The blood debt of over three thousand lives must be repaid!"

Marcel stared quietly at Wu Teng, and after a long pause said, "Then, see you tomorrow, Mr. Wu Teng. May God protect us both and keep us safe."

Watching Marcel's silhouette fade into the night, Wu Teng's hand instinctively brushed his left‑eye scar. That scar was a medal earned on the Manchurian battlefield, where his opponent had also been a wild, unruly fellow.

In the end, that man's head still hung on the tip of his blade.

"Lin Yu…" he gazed at the moonlight outside the window, a cold glint flashing in his eyes, "Tomorrow, I'll show you what true Bushido spirit really is."

Late at night, a hideout of the Axe Head Gang.

"Boss!" a subordinate rushed in, "I just saw Marcel from the French Concession come out of Wu Teng's place in the Eastern Concession!"

Ma San was drinking; hearing this, he set his cup down, "Speak clearly."

"Yes!" the subordinate wiped sweat from his forehead, "I was tailing them there and saw Marcel slip into Wu Teng's house. After about an hour, Marcel finally emerged."

Ma San squinted, "Looks like a secret meeting."

"Should we..."

"We need to report this to the boss immediately," Ma San stood, "You three keep an eye on that area; report any movement at once."

Lin Gong Guan.

"Boss," Ma San reported the details, "It seems Wu Teng has hooked up with the French."

Lin Yu was polishing his Colt pistol when he sneered, "I thought this Eastern devil was some big shot, turns out he's just trying to rely on the French?"

He placed the pistol on the table and said coldly, "French people can be trusted, even sows could climb trees. That Lei Nuo still dares to provoke me?"

Zhou Wei, standing nearby, mused, "Bureau Chief, in my view this isn't simple."

"Oh? Tell me."

"First," Zhou Wei analyzed, "Wu Teng chose to meet at Da San Yuan because he's targeting the French Concession. They surely think that on French Concession territory we'll have some reservations."

"Huh," Lin Yu sneered, "Do they even deserve it?"

"Second," Zhou Wei continued, "Lei Nuo daring to mix with the Easterners shows they have great confidence in the Ninth Division. After all, in Shen City, who doesn't know the fate of crossing the Bureau Chief?"

He paused, "But if they hold the Ninth Division as a card, they might think they can win back a city."

"Interesting," Lin Yu's eyes flashed coldly, "Looks like it's time to crack those restless guys."

"What the Bureau Chief means is..."

"The French Concession," Lin Yu stood, walked to the window, "needs a new master. Director General Lei has sat too long; he must have forgotten who sets the rules in Shen City."

Zhou Wei's eyes lit up, "Shall I have someone..."

"No rush," Lin Yu turned, a cold smile curling his lips, "Tomorrow, let them see what true rules are in Shen City."

"Understood!"

Ma San listened nearby, his heart pounding.

He knew the boss's temperament too well. If the boss truly raged, the entire French Concession would quake.

Seems tomorrow's Da San Yuan will be lively again.

Late at night, the Security Command Headquarters was brightly lit.

"Commander," Li Mingze hurried into the office, "We just received word that Wu Teng met secretly with Marcel of the French Concession in the Eastern Concession."

Qin Dong Zhi was reviewing documents when he looked up, "Marcel? Lei's dog?"

"Exactly."

"Huh," Qin Dong Zhi set down his pen, sneering, "That Wu Teng is truly foolish."

He stood, walked to the window, gazing at the distant lights of the French Concession, "The French now don't even dare to breathe, yet we still expect their help?"

"What the Commander means is..."

"Think about it," Qin Dong Zhi turned, "Since Lin Yu arrived in Shen City, which of those French Concession folk isn't crawling on their belly? That old fox Lei can't even cover his own turf now."

He sneered, "The only reason they dare mingle with Wu Teng is to use the Ninth Division's clout to make Lin Yu pull back."

"But Commander," Li Mingze frowned, "If Lin Yu truly cares about the Ninth Division's existence, won't that thwart our goal?"

"Care about?" Qin Dong Zhi's eyes flashed with sarcasm, "Do you think Lin Yu is the type who fears wolves in front and tigers behind?"

He sat back down, "See, this madman will never regard the Ninth Division. Otherwise, he wouldn't have blood‑soaked the Eastern Concession."

"Then tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow," Qin Dong Zhi lifted his cup, sipping lightly, "Looks like there'll be a good show."

He set the cup down, a playful glint in his eyes, "Wu Teng thinks that with the French backing him he can flaunt his power at Da San Yuan. Little does he know, in Lin Yu's eyes, French or Easterners are nothing but a few hopping clowns."

"The Commander is right," Li Mingze nodded, "Lin Yu simply doesn't play by the usual rules."

So," Qin Dong Zhi said meaningfully, "Tomorrow's Grand Three Yuan is likely to turn into a bloody crime scene.

He looked out at the night sky outside the window: "However, this is also good; let them fight like dogs. The bigger the fuss, the better for us."

Li Mingze looked at Qin Dong Zhi's unfathomable smile and couldn't help but shiver.

This game is getting more and more interesting the further it goes.