Refusing Solicitation

Sir? Keep an eye? What in the world does that mean! Hou Rui’s mind raced. The bald giant before him had been nothing but cordial since they met, and from his words just now, it was clear he knew all about Hou Rui’s mission—the process and the outcome. Had he been watching him all along? Or was there some deeper, hidden meaning behind these gestures?

The bald man watched Hou Rui contemplate without a hint of urgency, lazily swirling his wine glass and occasionally taking a small sip, exuding endless patience.

Seeing his unruffled demeanor, Hou Rui continued to analyze. Anyone familiar with the organization’s intelligence and able to freely enter this safehouse must be a member of the organization. But among such a vast network, who would care about a minor figure like him? After much thought, the only plausible answer was that this man was another operative from the current mission.

Could it be—was the bald giant the Spiked Knight?

The thought made Hou Rui’s pupils contract sharply; his hand tightened around his glass, ready to smash it against that gleaming scalp if anything went awry.

Perhaps sensing Hou Rui’s tension, the bald man spoke again, “You’ve probably guessed it by now. The ‘sir’ I referred to is the Spiked Knight. He wishes for you to join his squad, to become one of his forces.”

“I’m currently a member of the Infiltration Group—can I just join a knight’s squad at will?” Hou Rui asked cautiously as he took the business card the bald man handed him, puzzling over the question while studying the card.

On the simple white card was only a phone number, and beneath it a scarlet symbol, like a stamp made by a ring. The image depicted a cluster of needles surrounded by three layers of thorny branches; each needle tip was razor-sharp, the design intricate and exquisitely rendered, reminiscent of an old European family crest.

“Ha! Some people say you don’t understand how the organization works, and I thought they were joking. But now, I’m inclined to believe them. Wild Dog, you truly don’t grasp the breadth of a knight’s authority here. If the Spiked Knight wants it, not only could he transfer you out of the Infiltration Group, he could even have the biochip removed from your neck with a single word to the organization,” the bald man boasted, his face glowing with admiration for the Spiked Knight.

The prospect of removing that ticking time bomb from his neck was tempting—Hou Rui couldn’t help but be moved. Truthfully, the biochip implanted by the organization had always been his greatest constraint. Without it, he might have taken his savings and vanished without a trace. No matter how vast the organization’s reach, Hou Rui didn’t believe there wasn’t a single place to hide on earth.

Should he seize this chance and join the Spiked Knight’s squad? As he toyed with the card, Hou Rui rapidly weighed the pros and cons in his mind.

The advantages: 1) Saving ten million dollars. 2) Saving considerable mission time. 3) Gaining powerful backing, freeing him from Ding Ye’s threats. 4) Working with an elite squad, increasing survival chances.

But the drawbacks were equally daunting: 1) Loss of personal freedom, forced to obey the Spiked Knight’s orders. 2) No choice in future missions—even if ordered to become a suicide bomber, he’d have to comply. 3) Sacrificing his current leisurely life—university would be out of the question, and seeing Jin Shanshan again was uncertain. 4) Most importantly, the Spiked Knight’s ruthless disregard for casualties in his operations—a philosophy Hou Rui found hard to accept.

At that moment, two conflicting impulses tangled in Hou Rui’s mind, neither yielding, making the final decision elusive.

“Earlier this afternoon in Central District, Hong Kong, a fierce gunfight erupted in front of the Administration of Justice building. Visiting Saudi Minister of Energy, Mohammed, was confirmed dead in the attack. Despite firing over a thousand rounds, police units—including the Flying Tiger squad and mobile armored divisions—failed to stop or apprehend the assailants. Later, an explosion occurred aboard a double-decker bus hijacked by the criminals; police have confirmed thirty-one civilian fatalities and are now releasing the list of victims.”

The television nearby was broadcasting an emergency news report. Hou Rui’s companions cheered, clinking glasses in celebration at their own exploits, utterly unmoved by the civilian deaths and injuries they’d caused.

The noisy celebrations behind him prompted Second Officer to address Hou Rui with smug pride, “Wild Dog, join us, and before long you too will be part of this formidable team. We are the invincible Spiked Knight squad—no mission is beyond our reach.”

Is that so? But the mission’s target escaped, and in the end it was us who finished the job—what a boast! Hou Rui sneered inwardly, but he’d learned to keep his thoughts hidden. At least on the surface, the bald man couldn’t see through him.

Unconsciously, Hou Rui had made his decision. He refused to become a ruthless executioner, a gun wielded at another’s command. Even if circumstances forced him to kill for the organization, Hou Rui wanted the choice to pull the trigger to be his own.

So, having resolved, Hou Rui replied with calm indifference, “This is a major decision. Let me consider it carefully—I’ll contact you later.”

“Very well, I’ll be waiting for your call.” Second Officer stood up with composure, then addressed the rowdy underlings, “Enough rest. Time to go. We’re meeting at Beach Seven in Hong Kong in an hour—remember, the boss despises tardiness.”

“Understood!”

“Got it.”

“Second Officer, we’re heading out now, ha ha ha.”

With a few responses, the rambunctious group quickly split into teams and departed the safehouse, leaving Hou Rui alone, quietly awaiting the end of Lux’s surgery.

Two and a half hours later, a male surgeon emerged from the lab and addressed Hou Rui, “The bullet’s been removed, bleeding’s stopped. She’ll live.”

“Is there anything else I should do?” Hou Rui asked, relieved.

“No, nothing more you can do. We’ll handle the remaining monitoring.”

“Right, I’ve got two gunshot wounds myself—could you take care of them as well?” With his worries for Lux set aside, Hou Rui remembered his own injuries: bullet wounds to his shoulder and earlobe. With a doctor at hand, he might as well get it over with; otherwise, returning to the capital would be troublesome.

The gray-haired doctor glanced briefly at Hou Rui’s shoulder and ear, then said, “Ten thousand dollars.”

“What? I already paid one hundred fifty thousand!” Hou Rui finally lost his composure at the blatant extortion.

“That one hundred fifty thousand was for the girl inside. The ten thousand is for you—not the same thing,” the doctor replied coldly.

“Fine! Have it your way.” Hou Rui considered that if he returned to the mainland with gunshot wounds, he wouldn’t even need to go to the hospital—the police would come straight to him. So, facing this extortion, Hou Rui could only endure.

The doctor then placed a mask over Hou Rui’s mouth, and he soon drifted into unconsciousness, carried into the lab.

When Hou Rui awoke, the safehouse was empty except for himself. Lux had likely been taken away by the organization’s medical team, off somewhere to recuperate. His shoulder wound had been treated, the bullet removed, and the injury on his ear stitched up. Still groggy from the anesthesia, Hou Rui was left to rest, just as he’d requested before surgery. He needed every minute—tomorrow he had to hurry back to the capital to see Jin Shanshan.

At 23:03, Hou Rui glanced at the clock on the wall. Testing his limbs, he found himself weak from blood loss but otherwise unharmed. He struggled out of the safehouse and caught a taxi straight to the Huanggang border crossing, open twenty-four hours. Hou Rui had to make every minute count, or he’d never make it in time.

Through taxis, subway, trains, and buses, Hou Rui rushed nonstop. By midday the next day, he finally saw the familiar buildings of his university. Exhausted, he messaged Li Lei to request sick leave, then collapsed onto his bed, falling into a deep sleep. He was utterly spent after his injuries.

He slept until about six in the evening, woken by Li Lei and the others returning from dinner.

“Monkey, you look pale—must be pretty sick. Did you see the nurse?”

“What do you know? Monkey’s been working too hard lately—didn’t even come back last night!”

“Young folks need to take care of themselves!”

“Exactly, Monkey, be careful you don’t wear yourself out.”

Hou Rui smiled bitterly at his bantering friends. He could never tell them the truth, but having them joke around was a welcome reprieve, letting him momentarily forget the organization’s missions and the agony of killing.