Chapter 42: The Lion (2)

Wen Mingwei mentioned a "long trip," and he meant it literally. Their destination was far away, situated at the border of the Alliance—a place Tan Zhao had heard of before, but was not familiar with: Pubang.

Before introducing Pubang, the territorial scope of the Alliance needed to be explained.

Strictly speaking, ever since the establishment of the Alliance more than a century ago, there had been no independent nations or regimes capable of rivaling it. Human unification had become the mainstream concept. The regions governed by the Alliance were primarily located on the eastern and western shores of the Pacific Rim, along with a portion of the inland territories. Other regions had either been destroyed by war or suffered from backward development, amounting to nothing of significance.

Among those insignificant regions, Pubang was relatively well-known.

It was a quintessential lawless, free city, governed by no regime—chaotic, unstable, and rife with violence and illicit trade.

There were quite a few similar regions outside the borders, and the Alliance government adopted a uniform attitude of non-interference and non-engagement, strictly prohibiting smuggling across the borders and leaving them to fend for themselves. Occasionally, they were listed as negative examples in official propaganda films, using the bloody violence and insecurity of the outside world to validate the righteousness of human unification.

Tan Zhao's impression of Pubang stemmed from such news reports. There were also related discussions online, though not many.

Wen Mingwei knew much more about it than Tan Zhao, even more than the official authorities.

However, the outside world was, after all, a dark place untouched by the sun; no matter how much one knew, blind spots were inevitable. In other words, crossing the border carried risks, and this was no ordinary trip.

Yet Wen Mingwei was relaxed, offering no detailed introduction to Tan Zhao, merely instructing him: "We will be staying for a few days before returning. Make sure to pack your own essentials; certain items are not convenient to purchase over there."

Wen Mingwei ruled unilaterally, leaving Tan Zhao no room for refusal as he boarded the private jet with him.

They made a brief stop at a western city along the way, where they adopted light disguises and switched modes of transportation.

This journey was strictly confidential.

Wen Mingwei loved monitoring others, and just as surely, someone was monitoring him.

How he dealt with these tails, including how many subordinates he brought along in secret, was entirely unknown to Tan Zhao.

Nor did Wen Mingwei feel any need for Tan Zhao to know.

Yet some matters required communication, such as the purpose of this cross-border trip.

Wen Mingwei stated, "When I was previously tracking the androids, I traced it to an energy company in New Continent, but only found a fake. Wen Mingzhe was not there."

"And then?" Tan Zhao felt a stirring of concern, though he tried his best to appear indifferent.

Following that kiss last night, they had ultimately ended up sleeping together.

The atmosphere had inexplicably improved slightly, but whether things were good or not was entirely up to Wen Mingwei to decide. The only thing Tan Zhao had said that morning while Wen Mingwei was packing his things was, "Don't bring the medicine."

He had expected this reminder to be useful, given that their interactions the previous night had been relatively peaceful. Yet Wen Mingwei had treated his warning as wind passing by the ear, insisting that Gu Jing pack those bottles of medicine into his carry-on items and bring them aboard the aircraft.

Watching from the side, Tan Zhao felt deeply irritated, subconsciously reflecting upon himself: was he truly that awful to Wen Mingwei? Could constant, unleaving companionship really not replace medicine?

—Having such thoughts only showed that he had been led astray by Wen Mingwei's logic.

The problem was not his fault at all, yet he had actually followed the other's train of thought and engaged in self-reflection.

Pulling his attention back to the matter at hand, Tan Zhao asked, "How did you manage to track him down later?"

"I have some circuitous methods."

Seated on the sofa of the private jet, Wen Mingwei said, "If you could monitor all smuggling routes in the Alliance the way I do, and understand the intricate relations among major domestic and foreign factions, you too would be able to screen out which factions are behaving suspiciously."

"..."

Calling it "all" was perhaps a slight exaggeration, but Wen Mingwei was at least capable of monitoring seventy or eighty percent of them. The remainder consisted of petty, insignificant operations unworthy of his attention.

Tan Zhao had long since been aware of his power, but he was still shaken by the sheer vastness of his sphere of influence, falling silent and offering no response.

"The outside world is a mixed bag of dragons and snakes, and the situation is turbulent and unclear, but generally speaking, large-scale armed organizations are few."

Wen Mingwei continued, "Some of these are indigenous, while others are remnants of gangs that fled from New Continent years ago. Some of them have returned to their old trades, while others have switched to drug trafficking, technological crime, and gambling scams—they dabble in everything."

In the past, New Continent gangs adhered to domestic rules. The more powerful the families, the more they cherished their prestige, disdaining to touch those messy, insufficiently 'advanced' industries.

"Wen Mingzhe is a Wen by birth, after all. He regards his origins as more important than anything else, considering himself part of the orthodox lineage of Longdu. He certainly wouldn't be willing to wallow in the mire with them."

This was one of the few things about Wen Mingzhe that could be called principled, yet Wen Mingwei found it rather amusing. "Therefore, temporarily ruling out what does not fit his style, we probe the foundations of the other factions—others have origins and histories whose rise to prominence can be traced, but certain factions are secretive, concealing the backgrounds of their leaders. That indicates something fishy is going on behind the scenes."

Tan Zhao understood his line of reasoning. Wen Mingzhe was bound to maintain a low profile and go into hiding, but in order to develop, he had to engage in public activities. He could hide his name, but he could not hide the traces of his actions.

While this investigation sounded simple, the actual operation was immensely difficult. If one did not have eyes and hands reaching into the heavens, who could just investigate at will?

Although Tan Zhao had not yet decided whether or not to make contact with Wen Mingzhe, this could barely be considered a way out. Yet now he felt a trace of doubt: did Wen Mingzhe possess the ability to once again contend with the younger brother who had once tried to kill him?

That very morning, the intelligence broker had sent over a dossier. Tan Zhao had skimmed through it hastily; it detailed several major incidents Wen Mingzhe had been involved in back in New Continent—classic gang turf wars. Among them, it mentioned that Wen Mingzhe had a violent and eccentric temperament, loved fighting, was fierce in battle, and possessed precise marksmanship—just like Wen Mingwei. Members of the Wen family practiced marksmanship from childhood, surpassing anything ordinary people could compare to.

Yet aside from these superficial descriptions, the dossier contained no detailed accounts of the inner workings of those incidents, presumably because such information was inaccessible to outsiders.

Tan Zhao felt a complex jumble of emotions, hesitating for days without being able to make up his mind.

On one hand, it was because he did not trust Wen Mingzhe; on the other hand, it was because once he took this step, the situation he would face would be a complete opposition, a rupture, and an irrevocable break with Wen Mingwei—

The person unmoved by affection drew a clear line between public and private affairs, striking against his company without the slightest hesitation.

Yet the one who had been hurt remained irresolute and hesitant, uncontrollably worrying about their future.

Where was the "future"?

Why worry about something that fundamentally did not exist?

"Have you found him in person?"

After a long silence, Tan Zhao asked, appearing casually curious, "Are you making this trip specifically to investigate him, or are you confident you can directly take action and... kill him?"

"How could I let him die so easily?" Wen Mingwei replied. "If my intelligence is correct, tomorrow he will be discussing business at a casino in Pubang. Once he shows his face, given that we haven't seen each other in years, shouldn't we catch up on old times first?"

Wen Mingwei's idea of "catching up" carried an alternative meaning. Tan Zhao caught the hint of disgust in his tone—an emotion rarely seen in him.

"What is it? You seem very concerned about him."

Wen Mingwei suddenly leaned in close, pressing near Tan Zhao's face with a half-smile, and asked, "Has he been contacting you?"