Chapter 256: Taking Action

The Fat Boss and Zhou Rui quickly arranged a meeting spot. Twenty minutes later, they met at a teahouse. Zhou Rui wouldn’t go to the Fat Boss’s office.

The Fat Boss always conducted business in a gray area. Anyone entering his office needed to think twice, especially outsiders.

“Recently, a group of mercenaries from the Crimson Federation arrived on March Planet. But their target wasn’t Yang Bo, it was another wealthy businessman who escaped from the Federation,” Zhou Rui said quickly after they sat down.

The Fat Boss wasn’t surprised at all that the Bounty Hunter Guild knew this information.

“Yang Bo said someone was following him. I told him to head to our company’s dormitory. I never thought the other side would stage such a bold attack. We even lost a bunch of drones, and I heard they shot down three warplanes!”

“Those Alliance idiots! The enemy brought so many heavy weapons, and yet they had no intel. No wonder their warplanes got shot down.”

“Yang Bo was captured. I think it’s connected to that last time.” The Fat Boss got angry just thinking about it. He dealt in shady businesses, but thinking about the situation made him want to bang his head against a wall.

“They came 20 days ago. There’s no way this is about last time. We dealt with them then, and our Guild never leaves loose ends. Don’t worry.”

“Today’s matter is definitely not simple. There must be other forces involved. I’ve already sent people to gather intel.”

“Dare to capture Yang Bo, huh? Those bastards are gonna pay. As long as they remain in civilized society, should we post a bounty?”

The Fat Boss replied grumpily, “We don’t even know the reasons yet, so don’t rush. They must have a purpose for capturing Yang Bo. It’s likely he’s not in any mortal danger.”

A bold idea started forming in the Fat Boss’s mind. He’d gotten wind of some news when Yang Bo returned to March Planet last time.

“I do have some news.” The Fat Boss hesitated, then shared the information.

Zhou Rui’s eyes widened. “You should’ve said this earlier! The Grey Ash Organization has gone mad after suffering such a big loss this time.”

“The Grey Ash Organization suffered a devastating blow within the Alliance. Many deep-cover operatives were either captured or disappeared, and there’s only a vague suspicion pointing to Green Demon Planet.”

“But Green Demon Planet is now under tight blockade by the Alliance’s main fleet. Unless the Grey Ash Organization can muster two or three main fleets, they won’t be able to land.”

“They’ve lost it. Rumor has it they’re activating their lowest-ranked informants. That explains it—March Planet hasn’t been fully developed for long. In the early days, without a global warning system, smuggling was rampant.” Zhou Rui quickly connected the dots.

The Fat Boss was speechless. “Yang Bo’s just a regular resident… What intel could he possibly have? These dogs must be desperate.”

“They definitely are. The military’s launching another round of inspections. The forces there are pretty much isolated from the outside world,” Zhou Rui added.

“We’ve also got evidence proving the Grey Ash Organization collaborated with pirates in an attack on Green Demon Planet’s fleet. Strangely, the Alliance seemed ahead of the game, sending a main fleet to intercept.”

“They rescued you en route, but when they arrived at the location, it turned out there were Red Earl extremists among the reinforcements. So, naturally, the Grey Ash Organization was condemned for colluding with the Red Earl’s group.”

“As of now, the Grey Ash Organization has been labeled an extremist terrorist group by the Alliance. Once you’re identified as a member, it’s a shoot-to-kill order.”

Before today, the Fat Boss hadn’t gotten such detailed intel. After hearing Zhou Rui, everything suddenly made sense. “No wonder these guys are acting like rabid dogs.”

At that moment, a waiter knocked on the door. After being given the nod by the Fat Boss, the waiter entered. “Esteemed guests, March Planet has just announced martial law, effective as of three minutes ago. I’m here to inform you.”

The Fat Boss was slightly surprised, and Zhou Rui immediately headed out.

Martial law wasn’t a joke. From now on, the planet was cut off from the outside world— even communications would be blocked.

Zhou Rui returned just as the waiter left. “Apparently, someone important went missing. The planetary fleet issued the martial law order.”

“Three people attacked you, and another three hit a different location. I still haven’t figured out who was kidnapped, but based on the clues, it’s likely someone from the military, since the fleet issued the order.”

“Then I’m relieved. Yang Bo’s likely okay. There are people more worried than me.” The Fat Boss made up his mind not to get involved. He was considering going all out to rescue Yang Bo, but now someone else was more anxious.

There was just no need. Who holds power in the Alliance? Many say it’s the Parliament, but that’s nonsense. The real power lies with the military-industrial complex.

The military’s finances are murky. Sure, there have been attempts at investigations. But surprise, surprise, those investigators always meet unfortunate “accidents.”

The Fat Boss figured that with such high stakes, it was best for a small fry like him to stay out of it. If someone could lock down an entire planet to find someone, that person must have an extraordinary background.

Meanwhile, Yang Bo was on a yacht, staring at an underwater Submarine nearby. He looked up at the sky. How could the planetary security system miss this? Was it invisible?

He boarded the sub without a trace of panic. He was just curious about his employer this time. Was it the Grey Ash Organization?

Leader ‘A’ led a few others and a bag onto the Submarine.

As Yang Bo walked, he used his footsteps to estimate the size. The sub was about fifty meters long, with an elliptical cross-section and a height of roughly six meters, designed with a sleek shape.

“Welcome, our warrior.” Upon arriving below deck, he was greeted by a chubby, middle-aged man with sparse hair, someone who clearly oozed strength. He was dressed casually.

Three others stood behind him, all dressed just as casually, like they were out for a leisure cruise.

“Thank you. What about our payment?” Leader ‘A’ gestured, and ‘J’ threw the bag on the ground before asking.

“We need to inspect the goods first,” the Fatty said with a sly grin.

Yang Bo was intrigued. What was worth all this trouble?

“Of course,” ‘A’ replied, signaling ‘J’ to open the bag.

Inside the bag was a woman, dressed in white loungewear. Around her neck was a restraint collar.

“Not bad.” The Fatty waved someone over to inspect the woman closely. After a thorough check, the man nodded. The chubby guy smiled in approval.

“Shall we confirm the mission then?” ‘A’ asked.

The Fatty nodded. Just then, one of Yang Bo’s comrades, number ‘8,’ spoke up: “Captain, no network signal.”

“What are you doing?” ‘A’ shouted, his face falling.

The Fatty frowned. “Calm down, everyone. It’s definitely not our doing.”

Suddenly, someone rushed over to the Fatty but hesitated to speak. The Fatty glanced at the mercenaries and said, “Go ahead and say it.”

“March Planet has declared martial law.” That one sentence made everyone’s faces change.

Yang Bo was equally shocked. The person on the ground held this much sway?

“Captain, these bastards want to double-cross us,” ‘J’ yanked the bag back and tossed it aside, pulling out a laser pistol.

‘A’ also pulled out a laser pistol, and the others revealed bombs. Only Yang Bo stood there unarmed.

“Watch him,” ‘A’ said, looking frustrated at Yang Bo. How could someone be a mercenary for so long and not know to always keep something up their sleeve? Yang Bo muttered to himself. The original host surely would’ve prepared something, but he had no idea what, so he set the bag aside.

“It’s a misunderstanding! Really a misunderstanding!” The Fatty frantically tried to explain.

“Misunderstanding, my ass! You think this is our first job? We’ve faced all kinds of situations,” ‘J’ cursed, keeping his guard up.

“Yeah, martial law on an entire planet? Either you messed with the sub, or the mission target’s way more important than you let on,” ‘A’ sneered.

Mercenaries aren’t fools. They won’t accept suicide missions. Suppressing information when issuing a mission is downright fatal.

Mercenaries take jobs to make money, not to die. Nothing angers them more than being set up. They’re in it for the enjoyment, not the risk.

“It’s a misunderstanding! I swear! There’s nothing wrong with the mission target.” The Fatty signaled his people to back up while continuing to explain.

‘A’ and his team stayed alert, their laser pistols armed. They were divided: three faced the employer, the other two kept watch on the other side.

“Give us a private chamber. We need to interrogate the target,” ‘A’ snapped, clearly not trusting the other side.

“That’s right. We’re not doing suicide missions. Worst case, we’ll just serve some time.” number ‘8’ chimed in.

Yang Bo found this absurd. No wonder criminals were so cocky in this place. They’d rather risk things going wrong and sit through some jail time.

“Fine,” the Fatty seemed to concede.

But then, in the blink of an eye, the man flew like a shadow straight for Yang Bo, so fast that no one had time to react. His goal was the bag in Yang Bo’s hands.

His subordinates followed, attacking at lightning speed in that cramped space.

The Fatty grabbed ‘A’s hand, throwing a brutal punch that sent him crashing into the sub’s ceiling.

It wasn’t just ‘A’— the others were also slammed into the ceiling, writhing in pain. The ones holding bombs had their hands tightly gripped, giving them no chance to act.

Time seemed frozen as the Fatty suddenly hit the floor, his head smashed into the sub’s deck.

Thud! The Fatty’s subordinates backed off. The mercenaries groaned in pain on the ground. Naturally, their laser weapons and bombs were gone

“Da…amn…” ‘A’ tried to curse, but his whole body hurt too much to say a word.

Yang Bo stood there calmly. The Fatty had tried to grab him, but Yang Bo countered with brute force, knocking him out. Yang Bo’s hands lit with flame, but they weren’t hurt at all.

Yang Bo stood alone, hands burning with fierce flames, while everyone around lay on the ground in agony.

It took five minutes before ‘A’ could finally pull himself together. His disguised face was as pale as a ghost. Glaring at the Fatty, he kicked him hard.

“Thanks. I’ll split this job’s reward with you.” ‘A’ acknowledged Yang Bo directly.

Yang Bo coldly nodded, retracting the flames. He knew mercenaries didn’t know each other and often used disguises. They rarely revealed their true identities.

“Damn it. That bastard almost got us all killed,” number ‘8’ muttered as he slapped the unconscious Fatty.

The other side was too powerful. Yang Bo’s group didn’t even have time to react.

Mercenaries, despite the fancy title, are just money-hungry individuals, willing to do anything for cash without caring about legality.

So, they don’t exactly have the best reputation.

‘A’ commented, “Looks like these guys wanted us dead to clean up loose ends.”

“Captain, who recommended this job?”

“Someone from the Grey Ash Organization. I checked them out.”

“Those bastards. We’ll settle this with them when we get back to the Federation.”

“If I’d known the Grey Ash Organization was involved, I wouldn’t have taken it. They’ve been working with extremist groups.”

“Damn it, those scumbags.” The Fatty woke up to find himself beaten down by everyone.

“Thanks, brother.”

“Thanks, brother,” they all echoed, but there was no concrete show of gratitude.

What Yang Bo didn’t know was that earlier, ‘A’ had promised to split the bounty. This was standard practice in the industry.

In mercenary circles, the initiator of a job, usually the captain, gets an extra 10% to cover risks. That’s because no one takes the lead without knowing the full picture.

“Toss your laser guns, or I’ll kill him,” ‘A’ shouted to the Fatty’s lackeys now that his crew had recovered.

“Let’s talk this through. The planet is under martial law. None of us are getting out of here,” one of them responded, refusing to hand over the weapons.

Number ‘8’ cursed. “You bastards! We came for the money, not to die. We need to know the target’s identity, and based on the risk level, you need to pay double! Otherwise, we’ll trash this sub and happily serve time in the Alliance.”

“Exactly,” the others nodded.

Yang Bo had no words. Mercenaries truly loved money. But it made sense— after completing a job, they wouldn’t bargain down even a cent.

“We can’t confirm the mission target,” was the hasty explanation.

‘J’ stomped on the Fatty’s head. “That’s your problem! You hid the true mission level and set us up for a suicide mission. Now you’ll kill us to cover your tracks.”

There’s a second update coming.