Chapter 348: You really don't treat money as money

Hong Zhiyou was very clear that avoidance could not solve any problems.

As long as the deal remained unfinished, Ikeda Sugiue and his ilk would bite on like mad dogs and never let go.

That's right.

This bunch of people simply could not see the situation clearly.

The U. S. military currently on the Ghost Island were the true masters.

The Jiang father and son could still struggle when facing Truman, even resorting to diplomatic condemnation and refusing some harsh conditions.

But against the Japanese, the Americans were completely of the "kill them but don't bother burying them" sort.

Killing them was just like slaughtering pigs or dogs; they didn't even need a reason.

One could only say that Ikeda Sugiue and Sakata Toshio really considered themselves human.

If they wanted to jump, Hong Zhiyou wouldn't mind carrying a few of them away.

"Then proceed according to the plan."

"See you later."

Randall got into a jeep.

Turning into an alley, he boarded a large truck, inside which many precision instruments were flashing.

"Tom, what's the situation?" Randall asked.

"According to the hotel wiretap and information provided by the lobby waiter.

"Just when you and Mr. Hong were attending the banquet, Sakata Toshio's subordinate, Matsumoto Ichiro, moved into the hotel with several men.

"Their people have secretly scouted the location and are staying in the rooms to the left and right of Mr. Hong; two of them are armed with guns, and the rest all have short blades and daggers.

"Judging from the phone calls they reported to Sakata Toshio.

"The nearby patrol police have already been called away by Ikeda Sugiue.

"Considering the impact, they will make their move after Mr. Hong enters his room."

A sergeant with acne on his face reported.

"Very good.

"Continue to act according to the plan," Randall said.

"Yes, General," the sergeant saluted and said.

Randall was not MacArthur's confidant.

To be precise, there were many generals in the Allied Command's Pacific Theater who opposed MacArthur.

Randall belonged to the moderate faction.

He was only loyal to money and the President of the United States.

This was also one of the reasons why, later, when Truman gave the order, MacArthur ended his rule of Ghost Island in disgrace and repeatedly hit walls in the political arena, faring far worse than his former subordinate Eisenhower.

Besides managing Ghost Island's military industry, Randall was also the head of the Central Intelligence Agency for the Asia-Pacific region.

To some extent, he held significant real power, not even lower in status than the current second or third-ranking figures.

It was just that Randall only recognized money.

Money that could be obtained and was secure.

For matters unrelated to profit, he would avoid them if he could.

Therefore, he appeared less aggressive than other officers.

And Hong Zhiyou was undoubtedly his "money bag."

Whoever wanted to lay a hand on Hong Zhiyou was cutting off his financial path; Randall wouldn't mind sending this bunch of idiots to see God.

Hotel.

Hong Zhiyou and Wan An arrived at the lobby under the escort of several soldiers in military uniforms.

A Yamaguchi-gumi assassin who was mopping the lobby floor coldly raised his eyebrows and took a look.

He witnessed Hong Zhiyou and his party go up the stairs.

Reaching the second floor.

U. S. soldiers were guarding the hallway.

The assassin pushed the cleaning cart and hurried to the first-floor lounge.

Matsumoto Ichiro tossed the magazine in his hand onto the sofa, bit on a cigarette, and asked, "Watanabe-kun, how is the situation?"

"Boss, Hong Zhiyou is back," Watanabe Ming replied.

"Are you sure?" Matsumoto Ichiro's eyes sharpened as he stood up.

"Sure!

"But he has U. S. soldiers following him.

"I wanted to go to the second floor but was driven back by the U. S. soldiers, but I heard the sound of a door opening; they should have entered the room."

Watanabe Ming replied.

"Damn it, the Americans just love to meddle in other people's business.

"But this bunch is easy to deal with.

"No rush, you go have a late-night snack first; wait until they turn off the lights and fall asleep later before making a move."

Matsumoto Ichiro said.

"Understood," Watanabe Ming said.

Matsumoto Ichiro walked to the side, picked up the phone, and dialed a string of numbers:

"Hello, it's me.

"They've returned to their room, and there are Americans, so we can't fire wildly in the lobby.

"Don't worry.

"Your subordinate will definitely take his life.

"Yes, Watanabe Ming will take full responsibility; this is the moment for him to prove himself, and he will cherish it.

"Alright, goodbye."

Matsumoto Ichiro respectfully hung up the phone.

11:00 PM.

Matsumoto Ichiro glanced at his watch, extinguished his cigarette butt, and called Watanabe Ming and another subordinate into the room:

"The time is almost here.

"Department Head Ikeda has already cleared away the police."

"Watanabe-kun, Koizumi-kun, the moment of glory belonging to you has arrived.

"Kill them, and you will be big shots in the Yamaguchi-gumi!"

"Hai!" The two bowed solemnly.

"I'm going to lure the U. S. soldiers away now; here is the spare key to the room door—rush in, kill them, and run!

"Do you remember?"

Matsumoto Ichiro instructed.

"Yes!" The two drew their guns, carefully checked them once, pulled the bolts, and tucked them into their waistbands.

Matsumoto Ichiro straightened his clothes and walked out quickly.

Reaching the second floor.

"What are you doing? Get lost." The soldier guarding the door pointed the submachine gun hanging diagonally across his neck at Matsumoto Ichiro.

"Officer.

"I'm from the hotel!

"Look, it's so late, you officers must be hungry; the kitchen has prepared delicious food and red wine for you.

"Why don't you officers have a late-night snack first?

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on things for you.

"I absolutely won't let anyone go up to the second floor to disturb your distinguished guests."

Matsumoto Ichiro gestured with broken English.

The few U. S. soldiers actually understood.

They discussed for a few moments, gave Matsumoto Ichiro an OK gesture, and the group left the hallway under Matsumoto Ichiro's fawning and attentive guidance.

Matsumoto Ichiro gave a look to the front desk.

Watanabe Ming and his party of five took the opportunity to quickly go up to the second floor.

Crack!

Watanabe Ming lightly twisted open the room door and walked quickly into the bedroom with practiced efficiency.

Seeing the white quilt on the bed bulging, he assumed it was the two people fast asleep.

The two fired their silenced pistols at the bed, pulling the triggers continuously, sending cotton batting flying everywhere.

After a magazine of bullets was spent.

The other three held sharp blades and frantically stabbed the bed repeatedly.

Waiting for the knives to easily pierce through the thin quilt, the assassins suddenly felt something was wrong and fiercely ripped the quilt open.

Yet they saw there was no one on the bed.

There were only a few pillows hidden inside the quilt.

"Watanabe-kun, Hong Zhiyou is not here; we've been played," Koizumi-kun shouted.

"Run quickly!"

Watanabe Ming shouted.

As the group rushed to the lobby downstairs.

They saw dozens of fully armed U. S. soldiers jumping off several military vehicles, charging straight toward the hotel entrance.

"We're surrounded outside.

"Go find Matsumoto."

Watanabe Ming turned and was about to run inside.

The few U. S. soldiers who were originally eating in the restaurant stood up simultaneously; the leading officer bit his finger at Watanabe, making a mocking tsk-tsk sound in his mouth:

"For God's sake, put down your weapons, okay?"

"Don't shoot.

"Don't shoot."

Watanabe Ming threw away his gun and obediently raised his hands.

"There's another one in this building; catch them," the officer ordered again.

Soon, several U. S. soldiers dragged Matsumoto Ichiro down.

"Mr. Hong, the people have been caught."

The officer walked to the front desk and made a phone call.

Soon, Hong Zhiyou, wearing a white wide-sleeved pajama robe, came downstairs with a cigar in his mouth.

"Clap, clap!"

He clapped his hands, smiled, and walked over: "Well done, Colonel Maelon."

"A glass of whiskey!"

Hong Zhiyou gestured to the beautiful waitress who was trembling with fear to the side.

The beautiful waitress immediately poured the drink.

Hong Zhiyou took it, sipped it, and snapped his fingers.

Wan An took out a thick stack of U. S. banknotes from his pocket, counted ten hundred-dollar bills, and handed them to Maelon.

"Mr. Hong, we have discipline; General Randall will punish us if he finds out," Maelon hurriedly waved his hand to refuse.

"Colonel, take it.

"If the General punishes you, just say it was my idea; he will agree."

Hong Zhiyou smiled.

"Alright," Maelon said.

Just as he looked apologetically at the sergeant to the side, Hong Zhiyou spoke again: "Every brother who came today, everyone gets a share!"

Wan An's face twitched, and he looked at Hong Zhiyou, not daring to distribute them.

This was U. S. dollars.

A thousand per person; it wouldn't be finished without twenty or thirty thousand.

"Distribute them!

"Those who come are friends; I am a person who loves making friends the most."

Hong Zhiyou said heroically, puffing out smoke with the cigar in his mouth.

"I'll do it."

Finding Wan An too slow, he grabbed the banknotes and counted ten bills, stuffing them directly into the pocket of another U. S. soldier's olive-green shirt.

"Thank you!" The U. S. soldier was overjoyed and saluted respectfully.

"Hard work.

"Hard work.

"..."

Soon, Hong Zhiyou ensured everyone had a share, including those standing guard outside and the frightened waitress nearby.

Thirty thousand U. S. dollars were spent just like that.

"Attention."

Maelon shouted a command.

Twenty-some soldiers stood in a row.

"Salute Mr. Hong," Maelon turned around, stood at attention, and saluted with a snap.

Swish!

The U. S. soldiers saluted in unison.

"Take this back to General Randall and have him distribute it to the brothers in charge of intelligence," Hong Zhiyou had Wan An take out another ten thousand U. S. banknotes and handed them to Maelon.

"Mr. Hong, you will always be a friend of the United States.

"We will take the people back to report on our mission first.

"May God bless you, good night!"

Maelon saluted again, shook hands briefly, and took Matsumoto Ichiro and the others away.

"Hmm.

"Time to sleep."

Hong Zhiyou drank the wine in one gulp and turned to walk upstairs.

"Hong Zhiyou, forty thousand U. S. dollars in one night; this is the funding given by the Director, and you just wasted it like this—I, I am going to report this."

Back in the room, Wan An shouted.

"Suit yourself.

"Old Wan, if you're not going to sleep, keep an eye on things; I'm going to sleep first."

Hong Zhiyou extinguished the cigar, lay on the bed, and closed his eyes.

The more Wan An thought about it, the angrier he got; he picked up the phone several times but finally put it down.

Jianfeng had repeatedly warned him not to interfere with how Hong Zhiyou handled matters.

"Hong Zhiyou, let me tell you, I am doing this for the sake of the Direc..."

Wan An originally wanted to say a few more words, but heard snoring suddenly start.

Hong Zhiyou had actually fallen asleep.

"This..." Wan An was speechless.

What a heartless guy!

The next day.

Hong Zhiyou and Wan An arrived at the military camp.

Xie Ruolin was already waiting.

"I heard someone tried to assassinate you at the hotel last night? Are... are you alright?" Xie Ruolin looked him up and down.

"I'm fine.

"When will that Yamaguchi-gumi leader, Tian Gangyixiong, arrive?" Hong Zhiyou handed him a cigarette and led him toward the interrogation room.

"I have already... already made an appointment with him.

"This guy has had lives on his hands and is very cautious; he hasn't let anything slip, so I can't guarantee if he'll come," Xie Ruolin said.

"Is there anyone in this world that you, Old Xie, can't handle?" Hong Zhiyou raised his eyebrows and asked with a smile.

"Don't mention it.

"This bunch are ruthless people; I... I'm even afraid of dying at their hands," Xie Ruolin said.

"No rush.

"Come and be my translator first."

As they spoke, the two walked into the interrogation room under the guidance of soldiers.

Inside, Matsumoto Ichiro and the others were covered in blood, tied to the side of a water trough, their faces covered with oil paper, and the person in charge of the interrogation turned on the faucet to perform waterboarding.

"Mr. Hong, the General has gone to the commander's residence for a meeting.

"I am in charge here; please feel free to give your orders."

Colonel Maelon walked over with his hands behind his back.

"Trouble the Colonel to bring this person out," Hong Zhiyou pointed at Matsumoto Ichiro.

"No problem," Maelon waved his hand.

Immediately, someone grabbed Matsumoto Ichiro.

Huff, huff!

Matsumoto Ichiro, who had almost suffocated, breathed heavily with a deathly pale face; the interrogator to the side slapped the back of his head: "GO, GO."

In the room.

Hong Zhiyou snapped his fingers.

"What for?" Wan An pretended not to understand.

Hong Zhiyou frowned, annoyed that he didn't understand the vibe.

Wan An painfully took out a stack of U. S. banknotes and placed them on the table.

On the other side lay a gleaming samurai sword.

"I know it was Sakata Toshio who sent you to assassinate me.

"I don't like nonsense.

"Either you commit seppuku right now.

"Or take the money and obediently listen to me."

Hong Zhiyou said.

Xie Ruolin, sitting to the side, translated stutteringly.

"You're dreaming; I will never betray Bushido..."

Before Matsumoto Ichiro finished speaking, Hong Zhiyou stood up abruptly, grabbed the samurai sword, and swung it.

Swish!

Matsumoto Ichiro's ear fell to the ground in response, and blood sprayed out.

Ah!

He covered his wound, stomped his feet, and screamed.

"To hell with your Bushido!

"Choose again!"

Hong Zhiyou threw the bloody samurai sword heavily onto the desk, pointed at Matsumoto Ichiro, and became irritable.

Xie Ruolin pointed at Matsumoto Ichiro and translated word for word.

"I, I am willing to cooperate with you," Matsumoto Ichiro shouted with his face covered in blood.

"He said he is willing to cooperate," Xie Ruolin said.

"Very good.

"Have him write down everything about last night—the mastermind, the implementation process, and the participants.

"After writing it, sign it and press your thumbprint."

Hong Zhiyou instructed.

Soon, Matsumoto Ichiro took a pen, confessed, signed, and pressed his thumbprint.

Xie Ruolin checked it once and confirmed there were no problems.

"Maelon, lock him up first; later, have Tian Gangyixiong come to redeem him," Hong Zhiyou picked up the stack of three thousand U. S. banknotes, threw them into Matsumoto Ichiro's arms, and stood up to walk out of the interrogation room.

"Mr. Hong, the evidence is in hand; do you want me to ask General Randall to issue a warrant for Sakata Toshio?" Maelon followed Hong Zhiyou and asked while walking.

"No need.

"Sakata Toshio is an important figure in the Yamaguchi-gumi and also from a local big family; his roots are very deep.

"Once the grass is startled, it will be difficult to catch him again.

"I will handle this matter myself."

Hong Zhiyou said.

"Alright, if there is anything, please feel free to give orders; this is the phone number for my office," Maelon took a note out of his pocket and handed it over respectfully.

He had to be respectful.

Such a god of wealth was hard to find; after the events of last night spread, coupled with Hong Zhiyou's previous reputation, many officers and soldiers now wanted to work for Hong Zhiyou.

It was just that Hong Zhiyou only dealt with general-level officers.

If Maelon didn't have this bit of connection, he really wouldn't dare to climb the social ladder casually.

Hong Zhiyou looked at the note a few times in front of Maelon, tore it up, pointed at his head, and repeated the number: "Maelon, my friend, let's connect later."

"Thank you, see you later," Maelon said joyfully.

Arriving at the hotel.

"Wan An, prepare another fifty thousand U. S. dollars; I want to go see leader Tian Gangyixiong."

"No, you, you want money again?

"The Director only gave a total of one hundred thousand U. S. dollars in operating funds; you haven't discussed anything with MacArthur yet, and you've already spent almost all of it on this bunch of idiots in the Yamaguchi-gumi.

"You really don't treat money as money, do you?"

Wan An looked at the "money-sprinkling brother," and the urge to report him could no longer be suppressed.

"Hehe, even Chief Steward Wan can't stand you anymore," Xie Ruolin said with a smile, clutching his briefcase.

"Old Wan, just do as I say.

"I guarantee your wallet will bulge up immediately."

Hong Zhiyou patted him on the shoulder with a smile.

"Fine.

"You are the person in charge this time; you have the final say."

Wan An couldn't do anything about him either and could only honestly get the money.

"Old Xie, call Tian Gangyixiong and say I want to visit him in person," Hong Zhiyou instructed.

He had two things to see Tian Gangyixiong for: one was to eliminate Sakata Toshio.

Second, the Yamaguchi-gumi used to control port transshipment services; in the long run, as long as this deal was negotiated, the grain transshipment on Ghost Island would inevitably require this bunch of people.

Currently, the Yamaguchi-gumi's port business had been banned by the U. S. military's Economic and Scientific Bureau.

However, two years later, once MacArthur rolled away, this bunch of people occupied the port again.

Hong Zhiyou had no intention of expanding business here, but for grain, whether it was transshipped to Wan Island or the mainland, manpower was needed.

Dealing with the Yamaguchi-gumi was far more convenient than dealing with the cabinet.

"Alright, I'll go contact him now."

Xie Ruolin put away his smile and walked to the side to make the call.

Tian Gangyixiong was no small figure.

The Yamaguchi-gumi he led could be called the number one underground force on Ghost Island and was a household name in Tokyo.

This bunch of people had many rules and were also extremely fierce.

Anyway, he couldn't handle it and couldn't negotiate, so it all depended on Hong Zhiyou.

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 349 =====