sbdcsierra Chapter 324 The Puppet Master is really eating well.
Chapter 324 The Puppet Master is really eating well.
Chapter 324 The Puppet Master is really eating well.
American flag country, Black Veil Hotel, Presidential Suite.
This is not your average presidential suite.
It has a name: "Old Testament"—the exclusive palace of the Dark Council's chief minister, the ultimate symbol of power and status within the Dark Council.
Inside the suite, two men sat facing each other across the coffee table.
A person dressed in a black robe with a mask covering their face.
He was originally a team leader, codenamed "Flame Master".
After the death of the councilor, more than half of the messengers of hell followed his lead.
He now wields the most power within the Dark Council.
Sitting opposite him was an old man with a Mediterranean hairstyle and a large belly.
The old man spoke slowly and deliberately, putting on an elegant demeanor.
Director of the Ghost Investigation Bureau, Andrew.
Andrew put down his champagne glass and said leisurely, "The Dark Council is now divided into two factions: you, Lord Fire Mage, belong to one faction, and the Water Mage to the other."
A playful glint appeared in his eyes: "You want the Ghost Investigation Bureau to support you as the new Speaker of the Legislative Yuan—alas, this puts me in a difficult position."
Because the water mage is also a very good friend of mine.
The councilor died in Xia Kingdom, killed by a terrifyingly powerful figure known as "Twilight".
Xia Kingdom couldn't suppress this matter—there were too many eyewitnesses to the South China Sea battle, and the whole world had heard the news.
The death of the legislator is a good thing for the Ghost Investigation Bureau.
With that terrifying old monster gone, the Dark Council's control over the Ghost Investigation Bureau has been greatly reduced.
More importantly, the parliament is divided, and both factions desperately need the support of the Ghost Bureau.
The Ghost Investigation Bureau represents the official authorities.
The days when we were inferior to the Dark Council are over.
Because right now, these two factions are desperately vying for his support.
After hearing Andrew's words, the Flame Master cursed inwardly: Shameless old man.
In the past, even if he was the director of the Ghost Investigation Bureau, he would be nothing in front of the messengers of hell.
Is the water mage your good friend?
Stop joking. Back then, Andrew wasn't even qualified to lick the shoes of those team leaders.
The Flame Master smiled warmly: "Friends are friends, business is business."
The water mage can't give you as much as I can.
A hint of disdain flashed in Andrew's eyes.
This fire mage's negotiation skills are terrible; they're as blunt as someone haggling at a market.
Thinking about it, it makes sense—these messengers of hell are just a group of ordinary people with formidable power.
Perhaps, some of them are still street thugs at heart.
Andrew asked, "Oh? Then tell me about it."
The Flame Master held up one finger: "First, from now on, the Dark Council's commission for handling abnormal events will be increased by 30%."
Andrew's brows furrowed sharply, his face turning so dark it seemed to drip water.
The Ghost Investigation Bureau has a limited annual budget, and the commissions it pays to the Dark Council are now astronomical.
Add 30%? Wouldn't that mean the Ghost Investigation Bureau would be emptied out by the Dark Council?
He uttered a single word in a cold voice: "No."
The Flame Master chuckled: "Don't rush."
He paused, then said, "From now on, half of all the commissions received by the Dark Council will be yours."
Andrew was stunned.
Immediately, a fierce greed ignited in his eyes.
They lost the Ghost Investigation Bureau's money, but filled their own pockets.
Most importantly, the money is nominally given to the Dark Council, so even if the higher-ups are angry, they will only hate the Dark Council and remain completely uninvolved.
The Flame Master raised two more fingers: "Secondly, Mr. Andrew will become an honorary member of our Dark Council."
Wherever you are, if you need the Dark Council's help, we will not hesitate.
Andrew's smile widened little by little: "Okay—okay."
But a look of apprehension immediately crossed his face: "But the water mage still has more than thirty hell messengers on his side—what if they attack me—"
He was just an ordinary person.
If any of the messengers of hell were to harbor murderous intent, he would be so frightened that he would be unable to sleep at night.
The Flame Master smiled knowingly. "Of course, I won't let you have any worries."
After saying that, he clapped his hands.
The door to the presidential suite was pushed open.
Andrew looked up, his pupils instantly filled with shock.
Two female messengers of hell, wearing masks, bikinis, and 12-centimeter high heels, walked in.
They walked gracefully behind Andrew, their small, fair hands softly resting on his shoulders and slowly moving around.
Andrew swallowed hard.
What kind of woman hasn't this big shot slept with?
International supermodels have all slept with him. But the two behind him are messengers of hell, wearing mysterious masks, ram's head pendants around their necks, and bikinis.
He had never enjoyed it before.
Strictly speaking, I never dared to imagine it.
After all, these two are both extraordinary individuals with supernatural powers, the kind of people who would join the Avengers in the Marvel universe.
As for whether they are good-looking or not?
It doesn't matter.
The identities of these two women are the best aphrodisiac.
Although Andrew was a womanizer, he was by no means a fool driven by his lower body.
He asked in a deep voice, "Lord Flame Master, what do you mean by this?"
The Flame Master spread his hands: "It's obvious that these two will be Mr. Andrew's bodyguards from now on."
Andrew was stunned.
His breathing became rapid.
A powerful and beautiful woman, a supernatural status, and unimaginable wealth—all in an instant?
Andrew looked at the Flame Master, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Alright. I agree. I support you, Your Excellency Flame Master."
The Flame Master filled two champagne glasses: "From now on, I'm your friend too, Mr. Andrew."
A female messenger of hell very sensibly picked up a champagne glass, obediently squatted in front of Andrew, and handed him the glass.
Andrew took the glass, his eyes darting back and forth between the two female messengers of hell: "Is there anything I need you to do right now?"
The Flame Master pondered for a moment: "It seems—there really is one."
He bent down and picked up a black leather glove from under the coffee table, a hint of doubt in his eyes: "This is something that the late Congressman treasured."
It must be a very powerful treasure, but I don't know what it is, and I don't dare to wear it or try it out.
I remember that Xia Guoren named Yang Xiao also seemed to have worn this glove.
I'd like you to take a look at this—what exactly is it?
Andrew patted his chest and said, "Leave it to me."
"6
Philadelphia, USA.
More than twenty messengers of hell rushed into a suburban villa in a sorry state.
Upon entering, they rummaged through drawers and cabinets, searching everywhere for food and water.
Finally, after a hearty meal and plenty of water, the twenty-odd people sprawled out in the living room, some lying down, some standing, some sitting.
These people are another faction of hell messengers, led by water mages.
They suffered a great loss in the recent battle for the Black Veil Hotel.
The blue-haired masked figure at the head of the group anxiously pressed, "Where are the pendants? Where are all those pendants!"
The power of the Hell Messenger comes from the ram's head pendant.
If the belongings of those who died in battle fell into the hands of the Flame Master, it would be equivalent to adding a dozen fresh blood to his ranks.
One of the henchmen hurriedly pulled a handful of ram's head pendants from his pocket: "They're all here, boss."
. . . . .
The blue-haired masked figure breathed a sigh of relief: "It's alright."
He slumped into the sofa and asked, "Where am I? Is it safe?"
The subordinate replied, "Boss, you previously instructed me to secretly investigate the residences of all the messengers of hell."
This is the home of the puppeteer, the leader of Group Thirteen.
There's no need to worry about safety; no one will notice where the puppeteer lives, let alone suspect that we're hiding here.
As for the puppeteer—he looks big and burly, but he's actually a coward.
Knowing that the Dark Council was going to have internal strife, they were scared away long ago.
Upon hearing the words "Leader of Group Thirteen," the blue-haired man in the mask clearly showed disdain in his eyes: "If it's that guy's lair, then it's indeed safe."
As everyone knows, although the puppeteer is the leader of Group Thirteen, he has almost always worked alone.
Occasionally, new members join the Dark Council, but they are usually the leftovers from other groups.
Only puppeteers would take them in.
After all, as long as you call that idiot "boss," he'll treat you like a brother.
Therefore, puppeteers have a very low status in the Dark Council and are also very invisible.
The blue-haired masked man looked around the villa and sneered, "This puppeteer looks rather rough, so why does he decorate his house like a young girl's boudoir?"
Do you guys think he might be gay? Like, the submissive type?
Upon hearing this, everyone burst into laughter.
The scene is too beautiful to imagine.
Making fun of the puppeteer behind his back is a regular part of everyone's routine.
Today's commotion has eased the tense atmosphere considerably.
Just then, the sound of a lock being opened came from outside the villa.
The water mage instantly became alert. The other hellish messengers, like startled birds, also tensed up.
They were looking for an opportunity to take back the Black Veil Hotel, but not now—definitely not now—to clash head-on with the Flame Master.
The water mage glared at his subordinate and lowered his voice, "Didn't you say this place was safe?!"
His subordinates panicked: "Maybe—the puppeteer has returned?"
But that doesn't make sense. Some people say he escaped, that he fled to the Xia Kingdom.
The door was pushed open.
The tense atmosphere vanished instantly.
Because the person standing at the door was a tall woman.
Sunglasses concealed the sharpness in his eyes, revealing only his porcelain-white skin.
His sharp jawline and bright red thin lips exude an air of arrogance.
The tattoos on his neck and chest were faintly visible under his white shirt.
Cold and aloof, yet wild.
His subordinates were stunned.
This was the first time he had ever seen such a beautiful woman.
A beautiful woman with a unique and elegant demeanor!
The woman walked in and saw that the room was packed with people; a look of surprise flashed across her pretty face.
This surprise, when it falls on a woman with this kind of temperament, has a surprisingly endearing quality.
The subordinate swallowed hard: "So—this is where the puppeteer kept his mistress."
This explains why the puppeteer's home was decorated in such a feminine style.
The water mage's Adam's apple bobbed, his voice dry: "That puppeteer—he's really eating well!"