Nolan changed into his uniform and hefted two heavy takeout containers. He navigated through overlapping crowds until he arrived at an antique-style building with ornate carved beams and painted pillars.
This was the headquarters of the Gao Chamber of Commerce.
Perhaps because the Chamber was holding an important meeting today, a tall, thin man wearing sunglasses stood guard at the entrance, constantly turning away tourists who wandered too close.
Nolan approached with a professional smile plastered across his face. He walked up to the tall, thin man and displayed the takeout containers.
"Hello. Delivery for the Chamber of Commerce."
Before he could finish speaking, before he could even step toward the gate, the tall man raised a hand to stop him.
"Wait."
The behavior was somewhat unexpected. Nolan's frown was subtle, but he said nothing. He simply stood and waited.
The tall man pressed his earpiece and spoke in a low voice. "Delivery's here... yes, understood."
Then he turned his attention back to Nolan. "Enter through the door. Go straight along the corridor to the banquet hall. Don't wander. Understand?"
Nolan's smile faded slightly. He nodded in agreement and casually carried the heavy containers into the chamber.
The grandly decorated entrance hall was empty. Only the low hum of air conditioning units broke the silence.
Following the guard's instructions, Nolan walked along a wide corridor connecting the front hall until he reached the banquet hall at its end.
He pushed open the heavy wooden doors.
Instantly, at least forty or fifty people in the banquet hall turned to look at him in perfect unison.
Nolan's smile became somewhat stiff, but he felt no nervousness. He simply raised his hand to display the takeout containers.
"Delivery."
His attire and announcement seemed to satisfy them. Countless gazes retracted simultaneously. These people returned to drinking tea and their low conversations, completely ignoring Nolan's presence.
As if he were merely air that had wandered in by mistake. Not worth discussing.
Nolan's eyes narrowed slightly as he observed them. The men before him had different hairstyles but were almost uniformly dressed in white shirts and black suits. Like crude, inferior copies of some corporate template.
Moreover, they were all young, strong men. Not a single woman among them.
He stood there waiting for someone to greet him. No one did.
Finally, helpless, Nolan approached the man closest to him and asked in a low voice, "Excuse me, brother. What should I do with this delivery?"
The man startled slightly at the question. Then he hesitated. "Madam Gao is with guests in the conference room on the second floor."
He paused.
"However, the chamber manager responsible for operations is on the third floor. Why don't you just go up to him?"
After getting his answer, Nolan thanked the man. He thought for a moment, then placed the takeout containers directly in the hall and walked toward the stairs near the lobby.
He ascended the staircase with its railings carved with exquisite pixiu wood carvings, reaching the third floor in one steady climb.
There was no need to search. Nolan spotted the manager's office immediately, its sign prominently displayed.
He walked down the expensively carpeted corridor with a leisurely expression and approached the door. Just as he raised his hand to knock, a fierce argument erupted from behind the wooden door.
"Without support from our Triad, most of the addicts on the East Coast would riot!" An angry woman's voice, barely controlled.
"The Underground King has made his position clear. Either you surrender the Blueberry Nightclub operation, or you stick to your powder business. There's never anything in this world where you only reap benefits without paying the price!"
The woman's voice had barely faded when a man's voice, lazy and amused, drifted through the door.
But it was the pronoun the man used that caught Nolan's attention immediately. His raised palm froze in mid-air.
Nolan hesitated, torn between retreating and continuing to eavesdrop.
The angry woman suddenly sneered. She continued with biting sarcasm. "If the women in Blueberry Nightclub didn't have our smuggling routes, our training programs... do you think that place could still attract so many wealthy and powerful clients? Dream on!"
Her voice grew sharper. "Besides, in all of New York, which gang could even handle Blueberry Nightclub now? The Tracksuit Mafia? I think their heads and bodies are still rotting in the police morgue!"
Nolan, eavesdropping outside the door, couldn't help but narrow his eyes at those words.
He made his decision. Time to leave this dangerous place. He'd forgotten to bring his plasma pistol when he left earlier, and that oversight was feeling more significant by the second.
But before he could move, the woman's mocking words seemed to ignite the man's temper. His lazy, comfortable tone transformed instantly into something sinister and terrifying.
"Madam Gao! The Underground King never makes requests. Only orders that must be executed. Unless your Triad intends to start a war against the new order... my advice is to obey."
"Huh? A new war?" The woman's laugh was cutting. "Everyone knows the Underground King is in chaos because of the Tracksuit Mafia incident. I've even heard that a mysterious federal department, one that acts strangely and with extreme cruelty, is tracking the Underground King."
She paused for effect.
"His life... is not easy."
Before her words finished, just when Nolan thought violence was about to erupt, the wooden door suddenly yanked open.
Next to a white-haired woman in a cheongsam stood a blond white man with a grim expression. He shook something from his hand.
A pencil flew toward Nolan's eyes.
In an instant, Nolan's body shifted. His hand rose like lightning and caught the pencil before it could reach his face.
Then, with an expressionless face, Nolan's fingers exerted slight pressure. The improvised weapon snapped easily between his fingers.
He stared at the two people now close at hand. He took a deep breath. A helpless smile spread across his face.
"I want to say this is just a simple accident. Will you believe me?"
"An eavesdropping little mouse." The grim-faced blond man twisted his neck left and right, grinning with predatory pleasure.
He shook his palm. A stack of playing cards appeared between his fingers, their edges gleaming with metallic luster. Sharp enough to cut flesh. Deadly in the right hands.
And these were very much the right hands.