Landlord in the Arctic

He stepped onto the DJ booth in a single stride.

Feng Shan gestured to the scantily clad, blonde female DJ, signaling for her to hand him the microphone.

The DJ’s face was pale with fright. She handed over the microphone with trembling hands.

He took the microphone.

"Check, check!" Feng Shan said into the mic twice.

His voice echoed through the vast factory.

However, his voice didn’t come through the speakers.

Feng Shan frowned slightly and looked up, searching the crowd for any sign of Bat.

A moment later, a harsh burst of static shot through the speakers before they returned to normal.

Feng Shan said "Check, check" into the microphone again.

This time, the speakers worked properly, his voice carrying clearly throughout the entire workshop.

He looked down at the motley crew of freaks cowering with their hands on their heads.

"So sorry to interrupt everyone’s dance party. I’m here looking for someone. Where is Gruus?" Feng Shan’s gaze swept over the panicked crowd cowering on the floor. His tone carried an undeniable, oppressive weight.

’Looking for Gruus?’

’That good-for-nothing who sold out his own sister?’

Hearing this, the members of the Outlaw Nation gang subconsciously lifted their heads, their gazes shifting in unison toward a corner of the dance floor.

"Found you," Feng Shan said, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly as he looked in that direction.

He saw a figure in the corner, frantically trying to shrink into the shadows as if hoping to disappear.

Feng Shan raised the microphone.

He pointed it at the figure from across the room.

Gordon and the other three men pushed aside the gang members blocking their way, rushed over, and dragged out a large, drunken man.

The man stumbled, muttering incoherently as he was forcibly hauled before the DJ booth.

Feng Shan studied the man. His features were decent enough, and his face did bear some resemblance to Jenny’s.

He was at least six-foot-three.

Even hunched over, he was almost level with Feng Shan, who was standing on the DJ booth.

But he looked utterly effeminate. His messy hair hung over his forehead, his eyes were glazed over, and his face was flushed from the alcohol. He didn’t look like a man at all.

Feng Shan picked up the microphone and used it to gently lift the man’s chin. His eyes were cold as he asked, "You’re Gruus. Where did you hide Jenny?"

"I... I didn’t hide her! It... it was Gaston! I... I don’t know!" Gruus trembled all over, cowering like a frightened quail. He stammered, his eyes filled with terror.

"Gaston?" Hearing the name, Feng Shan raised the microphone again and called out to the dance floor, "Is Mr. Gaston here?"

"Hey man, Gaston’s not here! He disappeared the day before yesterday!" a heavily tattooed man on the dance floor shouted, his hands still on his head.

’Trouble!’

Feng Shan swung the microphone in irritation.

The mic cut arcs through the air, creating a WHOOSHING sound from the speakers.

Just then, Yves hurried over to the DJ booth, holding a phone. There was a hint of urgency in his eyes. "Boss, a text message just came in."

Feng Shan took the phone, his gaze falling on the message.

[I have Jenny and the others. If you want them back, get 1 million US Dollars ready. Otherwise, you can wait to collect their bodies. Call this number when you’ve made up your mind.]

After reading the text, Feng Shan snorted coldly.

’I hate these childish tactics. If you want to make money, can’t you be a little more polite about it?’

Then, he looked up at the crowd on the dance floor and said, "Everyone, my apologies again. Please, continue your party."

With that, he casually tossed the microphone back to the female DJ, stepped off the booth, and strode toward the iron door.

Yves and the other veterans, rifles at the ready, moved out quickly.

They executed a standard tactical withdrawal. One group began an orderly retreat while the other maintained high alert, falling back in alternating fashion.

The entire process was methodical, displaying an extremely high level of professionalism.

Once everyone was out of Blue Cloud House, they quickly got into their vehicles. The engines roared, and the cars sped away.

A cloud of snow kicked up by the tires billowed out behind them.

「After a while.」

The members of Outlaw Nation finally recovered from their shock.

Their faces twisted with anger as they all drew their weapons.

They stormed out the door, full of aggression, only to find the parking lot empty.

The four Chevrolet SUVs were long gone.

Some of the younger, hot-headed members were so angry they jumped on their motorcycles, fumbling to start them up and give chase.

"Fuck, what do you think you’re doing?" a man who looked like the gang’s leader rushed over to stop them, demanding loudly.

"We’re going after them! Outlaw Nation can’t be humiliated! We have to get revenge!" a young member shouted back, his face filled with indignation, his fists clenched.

SMACK! The leader raised his hand and slapped the young member hard across the face. Then he pointed back inside the factory and cursed, "Fuck, is your brain full of shit? Why didn’t you say that when they were still in here? If you want to get yourself fucking killed, don’t drag us down with you."

The leader caught his breath and continued, "Did you see the weapons they were carrying? All modified AR-15s. And their well-drilled movements? They’re definitely ex-military."

He paused for a moment before adding with emphasis.

"They dared to come to our turf, openly carrying modified rifles to stir up trouble. You think they’re afraid of us?"

"Besides, this has nothing to do with us. They were looking for that bastard Gaston. Use your brain. Call Sheriff Sean and report it." The leader calmed down, a cunning glint in his eyes.

The young member who’d been slapped looked at his leader, confused. "Boss, call the cops? But we’re a Biker Gang."

A smug look appeared on the leader’s face. "Of course I know we’re a Biker Gang," he explained. "First, let the Sheriff cause some trouble for them. We’ll follow quietly from behind and see how things play out."

"Now untie these four useless fucks on the floor. Fuck, couldn’t the four of you even send a warning?"

...

「After leaving Blue Cloud House.」

The convoy sped along, quickly entering a remote neighborhood before slowly pulling over to the side of the road.

Gruus cowered in his seat, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and anger.

Seeing Gordon sitting next to him, he growled through clenched teeth, "Who are they? Did you sell me out? You piece of shit Mexican."

"Hey, hey, name-calling isn’t very nice!" Feng Shan heard him and looked up. He reached out and patted Gruus’s cheek, his tone deceptively light but carrying an underlying warning.

After speaking, he pushed the car door open and got out.

Immediately after, Nash opened his door, grabbed Gruus by the collar with a swift, powerful motion, and forcibly dragged him out of the car, tossing him onto the snow.

Gruus fell into the snow with a muffled grunt.

He struggled to get up, but Nash planted a foot on his back.

Feng Shan walked slowly over to Gruus and squatted down. His gaze was as cold as a shard of ice on a winter night, staring straight at Gruus, who was now lying face-up in the snow. "Tell me," he said coldly.

"Why did you sell out Jenny? Give me a reason not to hurt you."

"I... I-!" Gruus’s mouth worked a few times, as if something was caught in his throat.

His face was pale, cold sweat beaded on his forehead, and his eyes betrayed both fear and regret.

"It wasn’t my fault! I was drinking at Blue Cloud House the other day, and I got drunk and started bragging to some guys that Jenny had made a lot of money in Alaska. I don’t know how Gaston heard about it." Gruus’s voice was tinged with tears, and he wiped at his eyes as he spoke.

"Later, I was on my way back to the ranch and ran into Gordon taking Jenny to the airport. Their car had fallen into a ditch, so I offered to give them a ride. But who knew Gaston would stop the car on the way? He took Jenny and the other girls and beat me up."

The more Gruus spoke, the more agitated he became, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"Gaston threatened me! He said if I told anyone, he’d kill me! I was terrified. I didn’t dare go back to the ranch, so I’ve been hiding at Blue Cloud House ever since. Look, this is where they hit me."

Sobbing, Gruus eagerly pulled open his clothes.

He showed off the black and blue bruises on his body, trying to prove he wasn’t lying.

’Useless trash.’

Feng Shan cursed inwardly, getting to his feet with a look of utter disgust.

’What a pathetic sight.’

’All that size for nothing.’

He then reached into his pocket and pulled out Yves’s phone.

He dialed the number from the ransom text he had just received.

...