Landlord in the Arctic

All because he got drunk, couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and started running his mouth, plunging the entire city of West Yellowstone into chaos.

Sheriff Sean pointed a finger at Gruus, his hand trembling slightly from the force.

"Quinn, if this bastard ever dares to go drinking at the Blue Cloud House again, break his legs."

Quinn’s lips curled into a vicious grin. He looked just like a savage wolf, his eyes filled with cruelty.

"Don’t worry. Forget drinking at the Blue Cloud House—if he even dares to touch a single drop of alcohol within West Yellowstone City limits, I’ll give him a taste of what it’s like to have five legs broken."

Gruus squatted pitifully on the snow-covered ground.

His face was black and blue, and the rims of his eyes were slightly red. He looked so wronged he was on the verge of tears.

’I have the worst luck imaginable,’ he thought.

’What the hell did I do to deserve this these past few days?!’

’I get beaten up everywhere I go.’

’First, Gaston beat me up, then I got dragged out of the Blue Cloud House and beaten again.’

’On the way back to the ranch, I didn’t bother anyone, and I still got beaten up by a Biker Gang.’

The more he thought about it, the more wronged he felt, and tears welled up in his eyes.

But he didn’t dare let them fall. He could only bite his lip hard, trying to calm himself down.

"Gruus, do you know this Asian man?"

Sheriff Sean took out his phone and pulled up a surveillance photo from the Blue Cloud House. It was Feng Shan, standing at the DJ booth.

The photo was a bit blurry, but Feng Shan’s cold, stern expression was still discernible.

Gruus struggled to squint with his eyes, which had been beaten swollen into slits, and stared at Feng Shan’s face to identify him.

His body trembled a few times, whether from pain or fear, and then he shook his head.

"I really don’t know him," Gruus said, his voice choked with sobs. "It was my first time seeing him, too. Then they dragged me out of the Blue Cloud House. In the car, I heard them talking. This Asian man seems to be their boss. Those guys all follow his orders."

"Useless! Then what the hell do you know? Beat him!"

Quinn flew into a rage.

He lifted his foot and kicked Gruus.

Gruus was already squatting unsteadily, and the kick sent him toppling backward into the snow.

Still not satisfied, Quinn shot a look at his men.

He signaled for them to give Gruus another vicious beating.

His men swarmed forward. Fists and feet rained down on Gruus, who could only groan and struggle in the snow.

Beaten into submission, Gruus lay on the snow, curled into a ball, and cried out helplessly.

"Stop hitting me! I know who knows him!"

"Stop!" Quinn signaled for them to halt. He then leaned down, glared viciously at Gruus, and asked, enunciating each word, "Speak. Who knows."

"My mother should know," Gruus said hurriedly, the words tumbling out as if he feared another beating if he spoke too slowly. "It was one of the Mexican workers from the ranch who brought the Asian man to me. That Asian man must have been to Melon Ranch. My mother might know his background."

As he spoke, he looked at Quinn with pleading eyes, hoping he would believe him.

"Let’s go. Get in the car. We’re going to Melon Ranch." After hearing this, Quinn straightened up and turned to Sheriff Sean.

Sheriff Sean snorted. There were no other options right now, so he could only turn and get into the police car.

Quinn followed up with a threat to Gruus, "You’d better not be playing any tricks. If you dare lie to me, I guarantee I’ll chop you into pieces and feed you to the grizzly bears in Yellowstone Park. Then you’ll know the consequences of tricking me!"

With that said, he turned and walked toward the police car.

.....

Reindeer Mountain Ski Resort was silent due to its closure, all its buildings covered in a blanket of white snow.

The rescue team used the buildings for cover, cautiously approaching the back door of the kitchen.

They picked the lock and slipped inside without a sound.

Yves quickly made a few concise hand signals.

The veterans understood immediately. Well-trained, they quickly fanned out, each moving toward their assigned search area.

The entire process was silent and orderly, with only the faint sound of footsteps echoing in the air.

「A little over ten minutes later.」

"Chief, Boss," Bat said, cradling his rifle. He approached Yves with light steps and spoke in a low voice, "Kitchen’s clean. Looks like they didn’t use an open flame to cook. No signs of anyone eating in the dining area either."

Just as he finished speaking, Steering Wheel, who had been out on reconnaissance, returned to the kitchen with the other veterans.

"We did a loop around the perimeter. No trace of any hostiles, but we found some footprints. The snow is too heavy, though. It’s hard to tell the direction or number of people."

Steering Wheel was from Texas, a typical white redneck.

He usually wore a red bandana tied around his neck and had a prominent scar on his forehead.

He and Ma Wei had retired from Delta Force together. Like the other veterans, the crucible of war had left him quiet and reserved.

Suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, he accepted Yves’s invitation and came to the Crown Territory.

After Ma Wei took a group to Lengwan to protect Natasha, Steering Wheel was put in charge of the second batch of veterans.

"Ski rental shop is clear."

"Cable car area is clear."

"Snow play area and ski park are clear."

With the final report in, the initial sweep of the entire ski resort was complete.

So far, there seemed to be no trace of the kidnappers in these areas.

After consolidating all the intel, Yves’s brow furrowed slightly. He then led the team to the main lodge.

Standing before a window, his gaze fell upon the cabin area not far away.

"Right now, the only place left to check is the cabin area. It’s highly likely that Jenny and the others are being held there."

Yves then began to assign tasks.

"Gunpowder, Bat, Scar—you’ll approach the cabin area from the right flank. Stay concealed. Don’t alert the kidnappers."

"Steering Wheel, Wild Ox, Screwdriver—you’re on direct assault from the front."

"Brake, Genius, you’ll take the high ground here in the main lodge." Yves’s gaze shifted to the two veterans. "Keep a close watch on the surroundings and provide fire support."

"The Boss, Nash, and I will infiltrate from the left," Yves said finally, ensuring the others understood the plan. "Everyone, turn on your comms and wait for my signal."

After laying out the plan, Yves raised his wrist to look at his watch, a hint of excitement in his eyes.

"Final gear check. We move in three minutes. Once you identify the target room, use rubber bullets, stun grenades, and flashbangs first. Try to take them alive if possible. If they resist, kill on sight."

"Roger!"

"Roger!"

"Roger!"

Every veteran remained stoic, quickly picking up their weapons and performing a final, meticulous check.

All of them had focused eyes and serious expressions. The entire process was carried out without a hint of panic.

The air was thick with tension. A rescue operation was about to begin.

The veterans were fully prepared, just waiting for the moment to arrive.

When the time came, Yves raised his hand and quickly motioned forward three times with his open palm.

Everyone moved out according to their orders.

...

「The Cabin Area.」

Inside one of the two-story cabins.

The first-floor living room was filled with a mixed stench of food scraps and tobacco.

Four slovenly men were slouched lazily on the sofa, their eyes glued to the TV. An adult film was playing, filling the room with piercing screams.

The coffee table in front of them was piled high with all sorts of food wrappers, some empty and crumpled, others still holding crumbs.

Cigarette butts littered the floor. The ashtray was already overflowing, and many more butts had been carelessly tossed onto the wood floor, burning black marks into it.

One of them, a handsome, brown-haired man, seemed distracted.

He was wearing a wrinkled shirt with the collar slightly open, revealing a bit of his chest.

He kept glancing toward the stairs leading to the second floor, his eyes filled with anticipation and a fiery lust.

Unlike the other three, who were engrossed in the film, his mind was clearly not on the boring program, but on who was upstairs.

A Black man on the sofa spoke in a hoarse voice.

He tossed his cigarette butt in the handsome man’s direction.

"Gaston, stop staring. Don’t you dare touch Jenny until we get the money. You look like a dog in heat. Wipe that disgusting look off your face, you’re making me sick."

.....