Beginning with the Ubume Bird-Chapter 283 - 9: Making Trouble Out of Nothing

Chapter 283 -9: Making Trouble Out of Nothing

Li Yan glanced back at Afafu’s slender shoulders, closed the door tightly, and faced the dim corridor in front of him.

Wearing a snug white tank top and draping his long coat over his shoulders, he walked deeper down the corridor, stepping lightly on the shimmering fragments of light on the floor, with a somewhat nasty expression on his face.

Li Yan was not a man who feared trouble, especially not the kind of trouble that came with beautiful women. Especially since Lady Dan wasn’t around, it was like a tiger among sheep…

His lack of enthusiasm was just an excuse; anyone who had seen too much of those inhuman bandits in the wilderness, roaming for days amongst flames and bullets, would develop intense primal desires.

But Afafu was just too clumsy, and also completely lacking in charm.

Afafu got herself drunk, perhaps to ease her guilt about betraying her husband, but beneath her flirtatious exterior was a sorrowful demeanor and eyes that stabbed at Li Yan’s self-esteem.

Li Yan had some modest thoughts he wouldn’t voice aloud, and even to himself, he scorned the notion of complaining.

But the best reflection of his foul mood at the moment was the following crass lament.

“Is sleeping with me that unacceptable? Am I fat… Do I, Li Yan, look like I’m lacking women? Back in Hong Kong, Judy, a rich woman, fair-skinned, pretty with long legs, everything all-inclusive on yachts and luxury cars, an open personality, versatile and resilient. And I was just so-so…”

In such a mindset, whether it be pride or grace, Li Yan stepped back voluntarily, leaving the room for Afafu and her son.

That was more than ninety percent of the reason; the remaining less than ten percent was to take a look at the “Wild Yak” series rifle, which Yin Xiong claimed was worth more than its price.

Stepping over puddles of filthy water and domestic trash, the higher Li Yan climbed, the broader his view became.

The entire fourth floor was open, with holes broken through walls, cold winds pouring in, and walls adorned with red and green painted patterns—prayer beads, roses, an upraised middle finger, wildly proportioned modern ladies, and Guan Gong in a green robe revealing half an arm—a crazed mix of Eastern and Western elements.

Minerals glowing red and green were embedded in the walls, stones containing large amounts of radiation that clearly no one cared about. Pirate-style high round tables were placed around, with clinking translucent glass wine glasses. Men and women were toasting, whistling, with tattoos and moist skin on display, making the place less like an arms deal spot and more like an adult bar.

“New here?”

A woman with bare, smooth shoulders and her hair done up in a Phoenix Tail approached. Her purple eyeliner and lips, lifeless eyes, and slightly upturned pupils all exuded a decadent vibe.

“Sort of,” Li Yan said with a smile. He made a show of rummaging through his pockets, raised his eyebrows with a self-deprecating laugh, “I meant to buy you a drink, but it looks like I’m out of money.”

The woman giggled non-stop, her fingers painted with black nail polish resting on Li Yan’s chest as she spoke with a breath reeking of sweet alcohol, “No problem, I can buy you one.”

With that, she brought over two pink wine glasses from the bar. Li Yan thanked her, took a glass, and held it in his hand.

The woman, with one hand on her cheek, said, “I heard there’s a new wild Wandering Deity of the third order here. Is that you?”

As Li Yan was about to respond, the slap of leather boots sounded, and the huge nozzle of a rifle inserted itself between the two. A man in a black vest forcefully squeezed the woman to one side.

Crew cut, ear studs, and a handsome pale face.

Wei Dan.

The hefty rifle’s butt thudded on the ground as Wei Dan picked up a bottle of fiery-colored liquor without looking up: “Scram.”

The languid woman’s face turned very ugly in an instant.

Li Yan drained his glass in one gulp, stood up, walked over, straightened the woman’s disheveled collar, and murmured, “I’ll look for you later to chat.”

With that, the woman’s demeanor softened a bit. She glared at Wei Dan resentfully, then stomped away in her high heels.

“Thirty bucks a night, she’s pretty cheap,” Wei Dan commented, circling his huge sniper rifle and staring at Li Yan.

Updat𝓮d fr𝙤m ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com.

Li Yan crossed his arms, “You looking for me for something?”

Wei Dan filled his glass, “What are you doing here?”

“Yin Xiong said the guns here are good, told me to check them out if I was interested,” Li Yan replied.

Wei Dan looked blank, “Didn’t you just say you don’t even have money to buy someone a drink? And you have money for guns?”

“Talking about money hurts relationships, you know,” Li Yan said with a serious face.

Wei Dan licked his cracked lips, “Raine Brothers’ ‘Wild Yak’ series, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what he said.”

“Three thousand bucks, and I’ll show you the goods. No money, no talk.”

“I don’t have the money…”

Li Yan saw that Wei Dan’s expression was not friendly, and added, “Will this do?”

Li Yan casually took out a square iron box, opened it, and inside were fully packed glass vials.

“What’s this?”

“Penicillin.”

Wei Dan’s eyes flickered, involuntarily drawn to the vials.

Ever since Li Yan returned from the Renchen battlefield and obtained Ten Cities authorization, he had purchased a large amount of supplies to put into his personal space, including a batch of imported penicillin injections.

His constitution being special, he hadn’t used much of it afterward; all of it was here.

“…Not enough.”

Wei Dan shook his head firmly.

“This is all I have. If I can’t even catch a glimpse of the gun, there’s not much I can say. Might as well treat this as buying myself a drink.”

Having said that, Li Yan picked up the bottle Wei Dan had been drinking from: “Is this round on you?”

Wei Dan’s gaze lingered on the iron box with the penicillin for a while before he stood up.

“Come with me.”

Li Yan smiled, and just as he stood up, his temples began to burn hot.

Turning his head, he saw a man sitting in a corner with a square face and a buzz cut, bronze skin, a red scarf wrapped around his neck, holding a glass with pale yellow liquid swaying back and forth. The exposed half of his forearm looked as if it was cast from copper and iron, exuding sheer wildness.

And the man’s amber pupils were fixed dead on Li Yan, unflinching even when Li Yan looked his way, just like a spotted lizard in the wilderness.

Li Yan cocked his head and asked Wei Dan, “Who’s this guy?”

Wei Dan glanced in the direction Li Yan pointed and said nonchalantly, “His name is Abaningma, he’s from the direct guard of Kuang Zhuoma Headquarters, arrived this afternoon.”

“He’s interested in you?” Li Yan guessed.

“No.” The corner of Wei Dan’s mouth twisted into a half-smile: “He’s a follower of Medicine Buddha.”

Li Yan glanced in that direction and said nothing.

“By the way, the content of your assignment tomorrow is a major event prepared for over half a year by the top brass. In addition to external recruitment, the company will also dispatch its own people. You two arrived at around the same time, so you’ll probably end up in the same group.”

At the other table, Abaningma seemed to have noticed their conversation. He emptied his glass, smirked at Li Yan, and made a throat-slitting gesture.

Wei Dan’s gaze was loaded with meaning: “Anyway, look out for yourself on tomorrow’s assignment.”

Glug, glug~

Li Yan drained the fiery-colored bottle, let out a big breath, took a step, and threw a word at Wei Dan, “I’ll check out the gun later.”

Saying that, he walked toward Abaningma’s table. There were three of them wearing black military uniforms, chatting and laughing from time to time. Suddenly, their faces turned cold, and they all fixed their gazes on Li Yan as he approached.

“You see…”

Li Yan mumbled, his mouth reeking of alcohol.

Abaningma gave a cold laugh, about to speak, when Li Yan picked up his pace, suddenly kicking over the table; the alcohol and glass spilled everywhere, with the corner of the table slamming into the soft flesh of Abaningma’s stomach.

“What the fuck are you gesturing at?”

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