yournovel Chapter 127 Blood Feud
Chapter 127 Blood Feud
Chapter 127 Blood Feud
Inside the Dorothy Chandler Theatre, dazzling crystal chandeliers refract a mesmerizing brilliance.
The awards ceremony had not yet officially started; the band on stage was playing warm-up music.
However, for Qin Han, who was sitting in the audience, the report coming through his earpiece drowned out all the noise and commotion around him.
Did the Japanese run away?
Surrounded like that, not only did he escape, but he also needed to go and "see" for himself?
This can only mean one thing—the situation on site is extremely bad.
He took a deep breath, forcing his wildly beating heart to calm down, and slowly turned his head to look at Bruce Lee beside him.
The master was standing sideways, talking quietly with a Paramount producer in the back row.
"Master, Bruno just sent word that the repeater has been removed, and the bomb detonation crisis has been temporarily averted."
Upon hearing this, Bruce Lee's expression softened noticeably, and the murderous aura that had been lingering around him dissipated.
"Great! Did they catch them?"
"We caught one of the lookouts, but there are still some loose ends to clean up." Qin Han said, half-jokingly, "Master, you can stay here without worry. This is Hollywood's biggest event, and you represent the face of Chinese cinema. You can't be absent."
"I'll go and finish up the remaining work, and completely eliminate any potential problems."
Bruce Lee gave his apprentice a deep look, nodded, and didn't ask for details: "Go, remember your safety comes first."
"Don't worry." Qin Han stood up, straightened the hem of his Zhongshan suit, then bent down and patted Fred's shoulder in the front row.
The overweight producer, who was dozing off from the boring music on stage, was startled by the slap.
"Fred, I have something urgent to attend to and need to go out. I'll be back in about an hour."
"Now? It's about to start!" Fred's eyes widened. "The first half of today's program is almost entirely 'The Godfather'!"
The showdown with "The Cabaret" is definitely the biggest highlight of the night!
"I'll be back before the Best Picture announcement." Qin Han didn't explain further. Under the puzzled gazes of a group of Hollywood celebrities, he strode out of the magnificent theater hall, ignoring everyone's stares.
Pushing open the door, the cool night breeze of Los Angeles hits you.
The neon lights on the street were still flashing, but Qin Han felt as if everything in front of him was shrouded in a layer of blood.
Sunset Motel, at the end of Sunset Boulevard.
At this time, the area around the hotel had been blocked off by several black cars, and several burly men with bulging waists were guarding the various intersections vigilantly.
When Qin Han's car stopped in front of the hotel, the wooden sign that read "Closed for Maintenance" was still creaking in the wind.
As I pushed open the door and got out of the car, that ominous premonition grew stronger.
Apart from the three veterans who were still checking for bombs at the venue, all the security company personnel were present.
But what Qin Han saw was not the joy of victory, but a suffocating, deathly silence.
Zhou Ruofei squatted by the steps. The usually slick-back, spirited leader of Qiao Yibang looked like a child whose parents had just been called to the school, with a helpless expression.
Hearing the car door open, he looked up, his eyes red as if they were about to bleed, his eyes brimming with tears, yet he stubbornly refused to let them fall.
Behind him, the group of young men from Chinatown all looked ashen-faced.
A few people with weaker mental fortitude were leaning against the wall, dry heaving, with yellow bile dripping from the corners of their mouths.
Even seasoned veterans like Bruno, Miller, and Davis, who had seen countless life-and-death situations, had ashen faces, clenched teeth, and throbbing muscles in their cheeks.
As Qin Han approached, the crowd silently parted to make way for him.
No one spoke, and no one even dared to look Qin Han in the eye.
Bruno neither saluted nor exchanged pleasantries; he simply pointed silently to the half-open door at the end of the corridor—room 104.
number.
"Boss—you need to be prepared for some things." His voice was soft: "These Japanese are beasts."
Qin Han stepped into the dark and narrow corridor.
The closer you get to room 104, the stronger the nauseating smell of blood becomes.
Despite having prepared for the worst, the sight before him made his blood seem to freeze for a moment.
On the double bed in the room, two heads were placed side by side.
The one on the left, with the last vestiges of terror still frozen on its chubby cheeks, is Fatty.
The one on the right—that's Chen Bing.
This loan shark thug, who was once feared throughout Chinatown, was a man who was always fierce and menacing yet had a strong sense of chivalry. At this moment, his eyes were wide open, his gray eyes staring intently at the ceiling, as if questioning the injustice of fate.
And their bodies—
Two headless bodies were nailed to the wall behind the bed with several thick steel nails.
The once pristine white wallpaper was now stained a dark red with splattered blood.
The murderer used their blood to write two large words on their chests.
On Chen Bing's chest was a twisted and ferocious Chinese character – "kill".
On the fat boy's chest was a bright red English word – "KILL".
"Buzz"
Qin Han felt a roar in his mind, and all the surrounding sounds seemed to fade away at that moment.
Fragments of memory flashed uncontrollably before his eyes like a burst dam.
"Qin Han! Don't play dead with me! Eighty thousand US dollars, not a penny less, and I'll tear down your martial arts school's sign!"
That was the most desperate time for the original owner of this body, and it was also the first time that the name Chen Bing was imprinted in her mind.
"I only gave you two extensions for repayment because we're both Chinese! And what did you do? You've been avoiding me ever since!"
That was the first time I had faced him head-on since I transmigrated here.
"If I hadn't seen you on TV—it would have taken me a long time to find out you'd moved here."
"Our boss said he'll waive the interest, he only wants to repay the principal!"
Outside the iron gate of the West Hollywood villa, Chen Bing rubbed his hands together, his face full of a fawning smile. He looked nothing like a gang leader.
"Master Qin! Do you think my movements are correct?"
On the training ground of the abandoned cannery, a somewhat clumsy figure was practicing Jeet Kune Do footwork under the scorching sun, sweating profusely.
"Now I can also do my part to protect Mr. Li! From now on, anyone who dares to touch Mr. Li will have to get past me first!"
-
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The image finally focuses on the cold head in front of us.
The man who said he would protect Bruce Lee actually fell on the road to protecting Bruce Lee, and in such a tragic and humiliating way.
"Whoosh—whoosh—"
His chest heaved violently, and with each breath, the scorching air seemed to be baking his lungs.
Anger mixed with guilt, hatred, and murderous intent surged wildly within Qin Han, almost burning away his reason.
He was the one who brought this group of people out of Chinatown.
He gave them hope, telling them they could walk in the sunlight and become respected security elites.
It was he who personally sent them into this meat grinder.
"Boss." Bruno appeared behind him unnoticed, placing a rough, large hand on Qin Han's shoulder. "Don't let anger cloud your judgment. That's exactly what those bastards want. They want to drive you crazy, to make you lose your sense of reason."
Qin Han didn't turn around, but stared intently at the bloody character for "kill," his voice terribly hoarse: "Where are they?"
"They got away. Very professionally, they cut off all leads." Bruno sighed, a hint of helplessness in his eyes: "But—we didn't come away empty-handed."
"Davis and his team caught the lookout and he's tied up in the command vehicle now."
"Interrogate him." Qin Han struggled to control his voice, preventing it from becoming distorted by anger: "Bruno, I know you have a hundred ways to make someone talk. No matter what methods you use, even if it means cutting pieces of flesh off his body—"
"I need to know where Onizuka Jiro is. I need to know the names of everyone involved in this."
Bruno nodded emphatically: "Don't worry, boss. Once he's in my hands, tonight I'll make him regret ever being born."
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Qin Han forcefully suppressed the beast within him that was about to go out of control.
When he opened his eyes again, his gaze fell on Zhou Ruofei, who was squatting by the door, still crying silently.
He stepped forward, grabbed the young man by the collar, and lifted him off the ground: "What are you crying about!"
Zhou Ruofei trembled, her eyes blurry with tears as she looked at Qin Han: "Master—that's Chen Bing—and Fatty, they—"
"I know who they are. Tears won't bring them back to life, nor will they avenge this." He released his grip, his tone becoming unusually solemn: "Listen, unless, from today onwards, this is no longer a security mission."
"We'll settle scores with them for our national and personal grievances! I'm mortal enemies with those Japanese!"
Qin Han looked around at the faces filled with fear: "They killed our brothers and then desecrated their bodies like livestock."
"The company will take full responsibility for the families of these two brothers. We will provide ample compensation, and I will support their entire families. We will absolutely not mistreat them!"
Qin Han whirled around, pointing to the horrific scene inside the room: "We must avenge this! Until we're dead!"
"It's a fight to the death!" Zhou Ruofei wiped away her tears and roared as she repeated the words.
"Let's fight to the death!" the remaining twenty-eight youths roared in unison.
Just as the crowd was getting excited, Qin Han heard a buzzing sound from his earpiece.
"Boss, this is Sam." This is the veteran in charge of searching inside the theater: "I found the first bomb in the equipment room on the second basement level."
Qin Han immediately pressed the button on his headset and asked, "What's the situation?"
"A C4 bomb weighing approximately two kilograms, connected to a complex electronic detonator. However, it's currently in dormancy due to the signal source being cut off." Sam's voice was steady. "I've disconnected the backup power line and am removing the detonator."
"Very good." A glint of light flashed in Qin Han's eyes. "Remember to film the entire scene, and don't rush to destroy the things you take apart."
"These are our weapons for retaliation. I will use this irrefutable evidence to kill those masters behind the Japanese!"
"Received. The investigation is still ongoing. I'm off to work."
After ending the call, Qin Han glanced at his watch: it had been almost forty minutes since he left the theater.
Even with overwhelming hatred in his heart, he had to return to that dazzling world of fame and fortune and put on the mask of a "successful person".
This is what he relies on for everything.
"I'm leaving this to you." Qin Han nodded to Bruno and Zhou Ruofei. "Take good care of our brother's body. Don't let him die in a shabby way."
"That Japanese prisoner, before dawn, I want to hear everything I want to know."
After saying that, he didn't look back at the blood-soaked room again, and turned to leave.
When Qin Han pushed open the doors of the Dorothy Chandler Theater again, it was as if he had traveled through two worlds.
The stench outside the door remained shut out, while inside, the world remained one of extravagance and sweltering heat.
-
The awards ceremony on stage has entered its most intense phase.
Who won the Best Director award?
The award presenter deliberately dragged out his words, and the entire audience held their breath.
Almost everyone thought that the award belonged to Francis Ford Coppola, as "The Godfather" was considered a strong contender.
"Bob Fox! Cabaret!"
As the name was announced, a gasp of surprise erupted from the audience, followed by thunderous applause.
A huge upset!
Coppola, who made the epic gangster film, actually lost! The Godfather was completely humiliated by Cabaret in the first half of tonight's show.
Qin Han crouched low, using the flickering lights as cover, and quietly returned to his seat.
As soon as he sat down, Fred, who was sitting next to him, leaned over, his face beaming with excitement.
"Hey! Qin! You're finally back!" He couldn't hide his excitement. "You missed so much of the show! That was absolutely insane!"
"What's wrong?" Qin Han adjusted his posture, trying to relax his facial muscles, and forced a slightly stiff smile.
"That damn host! Charlton Heston!" Fred said gleefully, pointing at the stage. "Can you imagine? The Oscar host was late because of a flat tire!"
"The old men at the academy were as anxious as ants on a hot pan, so they hastily dragged Clint Eastwood up to read the opening remarks."
"Oh my God, that was a disaster!" He laughed so hard his fat jiggled. "That cowboy with all his muscle on his head looked like an idiot on stage, he couldn't keep up with the teleprompter at all."
"He actually went straight into the microphone and complained: 'Who even wrote these lyrics?! They're utter garbage!' Hahaha! The whole audience burst out laughing!"
Qin Han looked at Fred's distorted smile. Just half an hour ago, he was standing in the blood-soaked hotel room, looking at the two heads.
Right now, the people here are celebrating a late host and a cowboy who forgot his lines.
This sense of disconnect made him feel dizzy.
That's Hollywood for you. As long as the spotlight is on, the show must go on.
"Really? That's quite interesting." Qin Han replied casually, his voice a little hoarse.
Fred, oblivious to Qin Han's odd behavior, continued his incessant commentary on the award results.
But Bruce Lee, sitting on the other side, keenly sensed that something was wrong.
Especially Qin Han's eyes, which were usually gentle and smiling, now held a deep, unyielding gloom.
Bruce Lee took off his sunglasses, his eyes fixed on his apprentice's profile, and asked softly, "Han, what happened?"
Qin Han's heart clenched suddenly.
Should we tell Master?
Tell him Chen Bing is dead? That honest, chubby guy who used to shout that he would protect him had his head chopped off and nailed to the wall?
If Bruce Lee knew, given his fiery temper, he would probably go berserk on the spot, and tomorrow's headline would be "Kung Fu Superstar Bruce Lee Disrupts the Oscars Ceremony".
No, now is not the time.
"It's nothing serious, Master."
Qin Han leaned close to Bruce Lee's ear and said in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Bruno just made a breakthrough. We caught a lone Japanese scout on the outskirts."
"They're interrogating him. The kid's a bit stubborn, but he'll confess sooner or later." Qin Han tried to make his tone sound as relaxed as possible. "The scene was a little... intense. I just went to clean it up to avoid attracting the police's attention."
"Just a tongue?" Bruce Lee looked at him suspiciously.
"Yes, we just arrested someone." Qin Han lied without batting an eye. "I'll tell you the details after the Oscars. It's not convenient here with so many people around."
Bruce Lee stared at Qin Han for a long time before finally nodding slowly, putting his sunglasses back on, and leaning back in his chair.
"Okay, we'll talk about it when we get back."
Qin Han secretly breathed a sigh of relief and turned to look at the stage.
At this moment, the stage lights suddenly dimmed, and the most important moment was about to arrive.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the next award we will present is tonight's highest honor, the Best Film Award!"
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