Chapter 2730: Kill Zhou Andong

At the same time Zhou Andong attended the exchange banquet, at 301 Hospital, Yin Xuan lay pale-faced on the bed. His broken fingers had been reattached, wrapped in gauze, swollen like water radishes.

But the most serious injury was not the broken fingers; it was Zhou Andong's kick that ruptured his spleen. Fortunately, the bleeding was not severe and there were no obvious signs of shock, so conservative treatment was adopted.

However, he was in agony—ordinary painkillers had no effect. This guy screamed in pain, shouting, "My grandfather is Yin Zongquan!" and then summoned the deputy director. Thus, the deputy director ordered a dose of pethidine for Yin Xuan, which finally calmed him down.

"Young Master Yin!" a youth pushed the door open and entered, still holding a black bag in his hand: "I've withdrawn the money."

Yin Xuan gritted his teeth until they clicked, his eyes filled with killing intent that wouldn't fade: "Have you notified Wang Hu?"

The youth nodded: "I've notified him; he should be arriving soon."

As his words fell, a man wearing a sleeveless vest, with dragons and phoenixes painted on his arms, broad-shouldered and thick-waisted, his face full of flesh, walked in.

"Young Master Yin, who beat you like this? Tell me, and I'll blast him away with one shot."

"Tiger!" Seeing Wang Hu arrive, Yin Xuan pointed at the black bag on the ground, his face fierce: "There are two hundred thousand in the bag—take it, and kill Zhou Andong for me."

Wang Hu's eyes flickered, then he slapped his chest and said: "Young Master Yin, I'll take this job—I guarantee I'll get it done cleanly."

Hearing Wang Hu's assurance, Yin Xuan's face improved slightly: "Go ahead—once this job is done, I, Yin Xuan, will definitely not shortchange you."

"Young Master Yin, just wait for my good news." Wang Hu bent down, picked up the black bag, then turned and walked away.

This guy left the hospital, then got into a Santana, started the car, and drove off. Over half an hour later, the Santana stopped in front of five flat-roofed houses by the roadside of Majuqiao Bridge in Tong County. The roof of the flat-roofed houses still bore a huge signboard, printed with "Tianma Lake Song and Dance Hall."

"Tiger Brother, you're back." The doors of the song and dance hall opened, and a youth with dyed yellow hair stepped out—this guy was shirtless, with a mountain tiger tattooed on his back.

However, the tattoo master's skill seemed poor—the tiger looked malnourished, not only thin but with one ear larger than the other, and even more bizarrely, the two hind legs were of unequal thickness. If you didn't look closely, you might think it was a tattoo of a disabled dog.

"Damn, what time is it? Hurry up and open for business!" Wang Hu lifted the bag, stepped out of the car, and strode into the song and dance hall: "What time is it, and you're still sleeping? Hurry up and wake them to open for business, or else we'll all be drinking northwest wind!"

"I'll get them up right away." Beside the bar, there was a back door; the guy with the disabled dog tattoo sprinted off.

Soon, over twenty men and women came in through the back door. The men were waiters, dressed neatly. But the women were different—each wore heavy makeup and revealing clothing. Seeing Wang Hu sitting in the booth smoking, they all greeted him, calling him "Tiger Brother" in alluring voices.

Shortly after, five more people entered through the main door. These five walked with a swaying, unsteady gait; one of them held a butterfly knife, constantly flourishing it, making it look very pleasing to the eye.

Wang Hu shouted at the man holding the butterfly knife: "Old Seven!"

Old Seven looked to be about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, around 1.8 meters tall, wearing a black shirt on top, jeans below, and a pair of shiny leather shoes on his feet.

"Tiger Brother, what's the matter?" Old Seven walked over, plopped down on a chair, then picked up the cigarette Wang Hu had placed on the table and lit it.

Wang Hu lifted the bag and said: "Let's talk in my office."

Old Seven lazily followed Tiger Brother out the back door—outside was a row of flat-roofed houses, not unlike the Sihe Academy. Wang Hu's office was the first room on the left, with a sign on the door reading "General Manager's Office."

Wang Hu pushed open the door; the interior was still spacious—not only did it have a work area, but also a lounge. Besides a pool table, there was even a bar, inside which stood a small liquor cabinet, fully stocked with alcohol.

Wang Hu tossed the bag onto the sofa: "Have a seat!"

Old Seven sat down with a puzzled expression: "Tiger Brother, what exactly is the matter?"

Wang Hu opened the bag, pulled out ten stacks of hundred-yuan bills, fixed his gaze on Old Seven, and said: "This is one hundred thousand—do you want it?"

Old Seven stared fixedly at the stack of old man heads on the coffee table; the greed in his eyes could not be concealed: "No kidding—this is one hundred thousand yuan. I've never seen this much money in my life."

Upon hearing this, Wang Hu smiled: "You want it? No problem. But this one hundred thousand isn't that easy to earn."

Old Seven spoke bluntly: "Tiger Brother, tell me what you want me to do—I'm listening."

Wang Hu glanced out the window, lowered his voice, and said: "Kill Zhou Andong."

Old Seven froze, then his face changed drastically: "Kill Zhou Andong?"

"Damn it!" Wang Hu cursed: "Shouting chicken feathers—if you can make the money, take it; if you can't, I'll find someone else."

"I can do it!" Old Seven didn't even ask why they wanted to kill Zhou Andong, and immediately said: "Just take out Zhou Andong—leave it to me, and I'll have no problem."

Wang Hu pushed the money toward Old Seven: "Go ahead—do it cleanly and swiftly. Once it's done, I definitely won't shortchange you."

Old Seven took off his white shirt, wrapped the money in it, and walked away: "Tiger Brother, wait for my good news."

Watching Old Seven leave, Wang Hu smiled again, took out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply with great ease. Not having to lift a finger himself, yet still getting one hundred thousand—this money was too easily earned. Young Master Yin, what a good man.

Old Seven entered the song and dance hall, waved at a thin, monkey-like guy with a ghostly face: "Second Devil, come with me."

"Coming!" Second Devil followed Old Seven out, hopping and skipping, then got into a minivan: "Seventh Brother, what's the matter?"

Old Seven threw the shirt wrapped in money onto the car seat; the money scattered inside. Seeing this, Second Devil's eyes widened instantly, pointing at the stacks of old man heads on the seat.

"Seven-seven-seven-seven-seven-seven-seven……Brother, you you you……"

"Cut the 'seven-seven' and 'you you you'." Old Seven snorted, then, while playing with the butterfly knife, said: "Has your cousin come out yet?"

Second Devil's eyes never left the money; he unconsciously nodded: "He's out—already half a year."

Old Seven narrowed his eyes, picked up fifty thousand yuan, and slapped it onto the seat beside Second Devil: "Fifty thousand yuan—let your cousin go kill someone. Can he do it?"

"He can!" Second Devil's eyes lit up instantly; he hurriedly said: "My cousin's been out half a year, done nothing, and is in debt up to his ears. This fifty thousand—let alone having him kill someone, even if you told him to commit suicide, he'd do it."

"Hahaha……" Old Seven laughed loudly: "Alright, take the money and go find your cousin. Once it's done, I won't shortchange you."

"Rest assured, Seventh Brother—I guarantee I'll handle this matter beautifully." Second Devil patted his chest and promised: "Just, you gotta tell me who to kill."

Old Seven glanced outside the car window, lowered his voice, and said: "Zhou Andong."