There were no signs of Li among the thugs, and it seemed the incompetent police wouldn’t arrive anytime soon. What now? Should he really engage in a gunfight with these desperate criminals? Bullets don’t discriminate, and even the formidable beauty couldn’t stop a bullet. How could he delay this further? Lin Feng’s mind was suddenly struck with an idea; impulsively, he wanted the people inside to convert the 1.5 million in prostitution fees into Thai baht. He thought that if he demanded a less common currency, they wouldn’t dare agree so easily. But would Thai baht be better, or perhaps Vietnamese dong? Or even more extreme, what about some obscure currency like the Zimbabwean dollar? As these thoughts raced through Lin Feng’s mind, the trapped bandits below were also in turmoil, especially the several gang leaders. Li Xiangdong was particularly distressed, feeling like a mouse caught in a bellows, or Zhu Bajie holding a bronze mirror, trapped between two evils and utterly miserable. Despite recognizing that the voice from above belonged to his student, Lin Feng, Li Xiangdong was shocked and impulsively wanted to rush out, believing that once outside, Lin Feng would have no choice but to comply. However, his accomplices, unimpressed by their second-in-command, reacted to his noise by pinning him down when bullets started flying from above.
The gang leader, stepping on Li Xiangdong’s face, said menacingly, “Brother Li, your little drama was quite the performance, eh? Trying to pull a fast one on us? You’re something else! Here’s your $1.33 million!” He signaled, and a burly man with a scar on his face approached a neatly arranged row of suitcases, opened one, and revealed stacks of hundred-dollar bills inside, totaling over a hundred bundles. “Don’t say we didn’t give you a chance, Brother Li, here’s $1.5 million! The extra $120,000 is for your life insurance!” With a wave of his hand, the gang leader ordered the suitcase to be prepared.
