"That's right, the whole family," William said with a grin, staring at Zhang Ziwei. "A son-in-law counts as family too. Did you really get a marriage certificate with Wei Mienna?"
"No," Zhang Ziwei quickly shook his head under William's mischievous gaze. "In that place controlled by the Eight-faced Buddha, there's no such thing as an official marriage certificate. We just held a ceremony according to tradition."
"Haha, and now you don't want to die anymore? Weren't you the one who was just telling me, full of confidence, 'Buddy, when you take out the Eight-faced Buddha, take me out too.'"
With William's smile, the predatory danger that had been hanging over Zhang Ziwei seemed to dissipate. Relieved, Zhang exhaled, "Get lost! I don't want to die anymore, okay? Didn't I already say it? Worst case, I'll go back to Hong Kong and sit in prison. I used to be a cop, so even if I made some mistakes as an undercover agent, they might reduce my sentence."
"Ha, buddy, it's obvious you've never done undercover work. The regulations are clear. Any sentence reduction or immunity depends on your superior's approval, and only if no harm was done. Acting on your own or committing serious crimes? The judge won't care if you were a cop. Besides, do you even have a superior now?"
This remark made Zhang Ziwei fall silent. He still had a conscience. His single-minded goal of killing the Eight-faced Buddha wasn't just for revenge—it was because deep down, he still considered himself a cop. Soldiers and bandits couldn't coexist. If he could really kill or capture the Eight-faced Buddha, his undercover status would make sense. But if they didn't acknowledge him as undercover, it could all be dismissed with a few words.
"Don't count on the CIA backing you up. If you kill or capture the Eight-faced Buddha, the CIA might be the least happy about it. I've personally seen them working with drug lords on Brena Island in South America. Think about where we are. You should know."
"Damn," Zhang Ziwei muttered, feeling lost. "So there's no other way? Or will you really kill me?"
"Who knows, buddy. I'm kind of starting to like you. If you're willing to go back and serve your sentence, maybe I'll even help you get a reduced sentence." William shrugged. "If you're just killing bad guys, I might turn a blind eye, even applaud you—I've done it myself many times. But human trafficking, selling women and children, and harvesting organs from living people are things I can't tolerate. I kill anyone involved in that. Letting you go would be an injustice to the families destroyed by drugs."
After a long inner struggle, Zhang Ziwei finally relented. "Fine, let's take out the Eight-faced Buddha first. Prison is better than getting killed by you. Besides, I might be dead before I get my revenge anyway. Buddy, help me out with something."
"Go ahead," William nodded. If Zhang was willing to face justice, that wasn't his problem anymore—that would be Hong Kong's issue.
"The Eight-faced Buddha has a shipment arriving in Hong Kong tonight. I've contacted a Triad boss in Tsim Sha Tsui named Duan Kun. He's going to intercept the shipment and take out the Eight-faced Buddha's eldest son, who's overseeing it. Once the son's dead, the Eight-faced Buddha will definitely send someone for revenge, and on the seventh day after the death, he'll show up for his son's funeral. This is the only way to get him to come out of hiding. But I'm worried Duan Kun might not be able to kill the eldest son."
"No problem. I'll have someone follow up on this." William thought for a moment. "After Duan Kun kills the Eight-faced Buddha's eldest son, I could arrange for someone to help him flee to Vietnam or the Philippines—anywhere outside of Hong Kong. And don't ask me why."
"It won't matter. Once Duan Kun makes a move, whether he lives or dies is irrelevant. The key is drawing the Eight-faced Buddha out of the Thai-Cambodian border. According to tradition, he'll attend his son's funeral. That's the only way to expose him. If you're worried, then stay out of Hong Kong's affairs."
With that, Zhang Ziwei stood up to leave. William, still smiling, asked, "Don't you want to know how your mother is doing?"
Zhang Ziwei knew exactly what William meant—it was a veiled threat involving his mother. "Don't worry. Ever since I started planning this, there's no chance of reconciliation between me and the Eight-faced Buddha. Either I die, or his whole family dies. I wouldn't gamble my mother's life."
"However," Zhang Ziwei added, staring at William, "if nothing goes wrong on my end, but something happens to my mother because of you, I swear I'll spend the rest of my life doing only one thing: killing you."
"Haha, very good. Looks like I'd better send your mother somewhere safe first, to avoid making an unnecessary enemy. Come on, buddy, help me shoot a video so my people can show it to your mom. Otherwise, she might not believe them."
Hearing that the video was for his mother, Zhang Ziwei got excited. "How do I look right now?"
"Enough with the nonsense. Hurry up."
After the video was shot and Zhang Ziwei left, William asked Sunday, "We weren't caught on the Grand Palace's security cameras, were we?"
"Rest assured, Sir. The footage has been altered. No loose ends."
"Good. Why is it that after all this time, there's still no trace of the Eight-faced Buddha?" William strolled out of the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, playing the part of a tourist.
"Apologies, Sir. Any place without a network is off-limits for me."
"Sigh, seems like getting rid of the Eight-faced Buddha in three days is harder than I thought. Let's just hope Chen Feng doesn't call me during this time." Leaving the Grand Palace, William hopped on a motorcycle and followed the map Zhang Ziwei had given him to the places where the Eight-faced Buddha might be hiding.
At the destination, he released a dozen black drones the size of fingers. After spending five to six hours searching seven or eight different hideouts, they still hadn't found a trace of the Eight-faced Buddha. "F**k, where is that old bastard hiding? Didn't we hack into Thailand's special systems for clues?"
"Sorry, Sir, but the records show no trace of the Eight-faced Buddha."
"Damn it, do I really have to go to Hong Kong?"
After thinking it over, William decided there was no need to act personally. If he caused trouble in Hong Kong and China found out, they might declare him persona non grata. That would affect his antiques business, his football team's fanbase, and future sales of his company's products in China. Since that was the case, using someone else to do the job would work just as well.
"Fine. Notify the strike team to assemble in Tsim Sha Tsui and keep an eye on Duan Kun. They're not to act without my orders. Also, get three sets of Level 4 bulletproof suits made."
"Sir, whose measurements should I use for the suits?"
"Zhang Ziwei, Su Jianqiu, and Ma Haotian. Su Jianqiu and Ma Haotian were Zhang Ziwei's colleagues. Their information shouldn't be hard for you to get."
"Understood, Sir. I've retrieved the data. The bulletproof suits will be ready in an hour."
"Good. Book me a flight to Hong Kong. Can you handle the identity paperwork?" William asked.
"No problem, Sir. Just return to the castle to pick up your documents. Leave the rest to me."
"Alright." William opened a portal to his castle, grabbed his documents, and returned to Thailand, where he boarded a private plane to Hong Kong.
At 11 p.m. in Hong Kong, two fishing boats exchanged signals with flashlights out at sea, about ten kilometers from the shore. After confirming their code, the boats came together.
"Sawasdee ka."
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