Chapter 194: Potions and Peppermints
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 194: Potions and Peppermints
"Mr... Bruce."
In the oppressive silence of the bar, Rat King Sam slowly raised the blood-stained head toward Muen.
The old woman’s withered face was still etched with fury and despair. Her parched skin was stained with blood, making her look like a piece of ancient bark weeping crimson tears.
It was impossible to see in this aged face any trace of the beauty that had once captivated even the great nobles in her youth; one could only see the resentment and hatred she held at the moment of her death.
The Rat King bowed deeply, his expression solemn and respectful.
"I have brought you what you asked for."
"You’ve done well, Sam. Very well."
Muen lightly patted the Rat King’s shoulder, a faint smirk playing on his lips. With a flick of his fingers, a crystal card sailed toward Sam.
"An anonymous Imperial Bank account. Exactly one hundred million. If you don't trust me, feel free to send someone to the bank to verify it."
"That won't be necessary, Mr. Bruce. I trust you implicitly."
Catching the crystal card, a flash of heat flickered in Sam’s eyes. Without another word, he straightened up and stood silently behind Muen, once again concealing his dwarf-like silhouette within the shadows.
"Alright, everyone. My demonstration is over. Now, it’s time for you to give me your answer."
Muen habitually adjusted his top hat, smiling at the silent gang leaders. His voice remained calm and mellow, but its underlying meaning had shifted entirely.
The doors and windows were shut tight, yet a frigid draft seemed to blow from nowhere, chilling them to the bone. The leaders glanced at Muen, then at the Rat King lurking in the darkness behind him. Their eyes flickered with unease, their faces as pale as parchment.
The balance had been shattered.
If this terrifying man before them had been alone, they might have stood a fighting chance by banding together. But now that the Rat King had definitively sided with him, everything had changed.
A powerhouse of unknown depth, paired with the Rat King—notorious throughout the Lower District for his treachery and ruthlessness—and his legion of hidden crossbowmen...
If they turned on him now, not a single one of them would leave this room alive.
Thus, if they wanted to keep their lives, there was only one possible answer.
Dammit, I should have made a move earlier. If it was going to end like this anyway, I could have made a hundred million. I let the Rat King snatch that windfall for nothing.
Regret clouded every face in varying degrees. But ultimately, after a brief, heavy silence, these leaders who ruled the Lower District bowed their once-proud heads.
"Mr. Bruce," they murmured respectfully.
"Excellent. It seems you have all made the right choice."
Muen’s gaze swept over them. In the dim light, he couldn't see their eyes clearly, nor could he tell if their submission was genuine or if they harbored hidden agendas.
But that didn't matter.
Muen picked up the bottle of fine wine he had been drinking and pulled several small glasses from behind the bar. He filled them personally.
"Come," Muen said, raising a glass. "Let us toast to this momentous occasion."
No one moved at first.
They were merely crystal glasses filled with fragrant wine, yet the men looked at them as if they were staring at something horrific. Their faces were masks of dread.
Because they had clearly seen Muen drop a white pill into every single glass.
Except for the one he gave the Rat King.
"Mr... Bruce, what did you put in the wine?" someone asked, his voice trembling.
"Nothing much," Muen replied nonchalantly.
"Just a precious magic potion that will cause your entire body to rot and dissolve the moment you betray me. I paid a fortune for it. Well? Are you touched?"
Touched?
They were too terrified to even move!
The leaders stared in horror at the glasses, hesitating to reach for them. Once they drank, wouldn't they become this man’s total puppets? They would lose their precious freedom...
But if they didn't drink, they would lose their equally precious lives.
Freedom or life—that was the choice. Everyone wavered.
"Pfft..."
Suddenly, they heard the man chuckle.
"Don't be so tense. I was just cracking a joke to lighten the mood. It’s fake."
Muen swirled his glass and smiled. "It’s just a mint. I heard this wine tastes much smoother with a bit of peppermint, so I thought I'd try it."
As he spoke, he dropped one of the white pills into his own glass, waited for it to dissolve, and drained it without hesitation. He smacked his lips afterward.
"The flavor really is much better."
"..."
He called it a joke, but no one was laughing.
After a brief silence, Muen looked at the still-hesitating leaders. He cocked an eyebrow, his expression turning cold.
"Why aren't you drinking? Are you looking down on me?"
"We're drinking... we're drinking..."
The leaders exchanged glances and finally picked up their glasses. But at the last second, one couldn't help but ask in a shaking voice:
"Mr. Bruce... is it really just a mint?"
"Well..." Muen’s smile became enigmatic. "Why don't you guess?"
...
Ultimately, faced with the threat of death, everyone drank the wine.
Indeed, there was a hint of mint.
But once the seed of doubt is planted, it only continues to take root and grow.
Magic potion? Or candy? It all depended on what they chose to believe. But unless pushed to the brink, no one was willing to bet their life on a fifty-fifty chance.
Thus, everyone understood that from this moment on, they truly had a master named Bruce Wayne.
They hadn't offered up their leashes willingly, but this man had used brute force to snap a collar around every one of their necks.
"A masterstroke, Mr. Bruce," the Rat King praised from the shadows, having drained his own glass without a second thought.
He could already feel the hateful glares landing on him. From this moment on, he was automatically positioned as Bruce Wayne’s confidant. Simultaneously, as the only one who hadn't been forced to eat the "candy," he was now the target of everyone else's enmity.
The moment he "fell from grace," these men would likely tear him to pieces.
"You flatter me," Muen said with a small smile. "Watching too many dramas has its benefits."
"Dramas?"
"Don't worry about it."
Muen looked up, gazing into the distance.
Dong—
In the distance, the Great Clock Tower chimed, announcing the arrival of midnight. The long night was far from over; in fact, it had only just begun.
"So, what is your next move, sir?" the Rat King asked respectfully.
"My next move?"
Muen tapped his fingers on the bar, lost in thought. Then, he withdrew his gaze and looked at the men before him.
In the dim bar, nine gang leaders stood in two respectful rows. Outside the doors, along the seemingly deserted streets, thugs from various factions gathered in the shadows. Though the crowd was thick, not a single sound was made.
They were all waiting for this man to give the order.
"First, I need you to look into something for me."
Muen adjusted his formal suit and, under the collective gaze of the underworld, stepped out into the dark district.
"And second..."
Muen looked in a certain direction, a cold, ruthless smile curling his lips.
"I’m going to give you all a little... bonus."