Chapter Twenty-Nine: Investigation

Once again, the Half-Immortal humbly asks for your favorites, recommendations, and reviews, hoping this book may bring you joy, brothers!

After breakfast, Qiu Fengyu drove into town, taking his own car, and bought a television. He found the necessary tools and mounted it in the noodle shop, so customers could watch the news and shows while eating, and he himself could pass the time. After all, it wouldn’t do to always go up to the loft just to watch TV.

The television wasn’t large; Qiu Fengyu bought whatever was cheapest. The bracket was already there, left by Britt from before. After installing it, during lunch, many people came in and noticed the new television, even old Paul Stazack laughed as soon as he walked in.

“I thought all you cared about was making money…”

“I can’t let you only eat noodles, can I? This is an added service—don’t worry, it’s free!” Qiu Fengyu saw the old man’s expression change and quickly added, putting him at ease.

“One bowl of noodles,” the old man said, walking to a booth and sitting down, then taking out a newspaper.

“This is yours. From now on, don’t bother saying ‘one bowl of noodles,’ because… all we have is noodles. Just sit wherever you like.” Qiu Fengyu brought over a bowl and placed it in front of him. “Today, you’re the first.”

“Oh, what an honor… your hand… were you very rough last night?” The old man glanced at Qiu Fengyu’s hand as he set down the bowl.

Qiu Fengyu lifted his hand—it was a small cut. He hadn’t paid it any mind; after a night, the blood had crusted and it seemed nothing to worry about. Just a minor scratch.

“You know, Paul, I’m single now…”

“I know. Sometimes being single can get pretty wild. Back in the jungle, my god, even just using our hands, we’d end up with injuries. Some men even used knives, chasing a different kind of thrill, you know… Everyone was nearly mad, did the craziest things. That was the jungle…”

“I know, Paul, I know. But… the only jungle here is the hills thick with pasture grass.” Qiu Fengyu turned away as more guests trickled in.

“Wow—” Someone exclaimed as they entered.

“This is the best thing you’ve ever done. I love you for it.” Ranch owner Sean Biggs had come in too, sitting down and calling to Qiu Fengyu.

“Thank you. Please wait a moment!” Qiu Fengyu smiled and went to the kitchen to pull noodles.

All noon, Qiu Fengyu received a flood of praise, which put him in excellent spirits. When the twentieth bowl had been sold, he had a quiet evening to himself, sitting in a booth, eating and watching TV.

The door pushed open and Kerfin walked in.

“It’s hard to imagine, after last night’s massacre, someone could sit here so calmly, eating noodles, smiling as if nothing happened,” Kerfin sat opposite Qiu Fengyu and glanced at the television.

“About last night, the Mexican side has informed us. It’s official: twenty-three dead, that’s their count. Among them, one was an American—an FBI agent—Roger Wesson.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Qiu Fengyu took a bite, looked up at Kerfin. “Would you like a bowl?”

“Extra chili powder!” Kerfin got up, poured herself a glass of water, and sat back down.

Qiu Fengyu sat down again, and the two faced each other, eating noodles. Kerfin ate quickly, not like those affected women who tried to be dainty. Kerfin never concealed her ways.

“I have to say, your cooking is truly excellent.” Kerfin wiped her mouth and tossed the napkin in the bin.

“This bowl is on the house.” Qiu Fengyu stopped her as she reached for her wallet.

Kerfin froze, then smiled. “Is it because of yesterday?”

“No, I only sell twenty bowls a day. Anything extra isn’t sold, it’s given.”

“Lucky me!” Kerfin grinned, then studied Qiu Fengyu, reaching out to touch his face, lowering her voice as if talking to herself. “Tell me, who are you really?”

“A man—a young, strong man. That much is obvious.”

“Should I take it to mean you’re in your rut—volatile, extremely dangerous, and won’t let any threats near you?”

“You’re describing a lion.”

“You’re more dangerous than a lion!”

“Well then, when a lion’s in heat, what do you suppose he does—especially when sitting across from him is a gorgeous lioness with lovely brown hair and captivating green eyes?” Qiu Fengyu winked at Kerfin, smiling suggestively.

Kerfin blocked his mouth with her chopsticks as he tried to lean in.

“Don’t blame me for asking. You know I’m just worried… That side is almost entirely that bastard’s domain. No one would think to go there and take him out, unless they were mad…”

“You know I’m mad!” Qiu Fengyu bared his teeth at her. “Mad Bill—I’ve been obsessed with him lately. I can beat the game…”

“All right, Mad Bill. I admit it’s the most direct way to solve trouble,” Kerfin glanced at Qiu Fengyu, “but you can’t always handle things this way. There are rules in this world.”

“I know, I know. You have your rules, I have mine, the Russians have theirs, even the Mexicans have their own rules… Rules everywhere!” Qiu Fengyu shrugged.

“Qiu, this is my territory… Let’s stick to my rules, okay?” Kerfin thought for a moment. “And I have to tell you—because last night Harvey Copley died alongside an FBI agent, Roger Wesson, there may be a deeper FBI investigation.”

“You’re really not a good cop!” Qiu Fengyu laughed at her.

“You’re not a good chef either!”

“Mutual. We both do things unrelated to our professions. I like the feeling.”

“The feeling of neglecting your actual work?” Kerfin’s expression soured.

“No, I like that we both have that spirit.” Qiu Fengyu winked at her, then cleared the tableware and took them to the kitchen.

Kerfin watched Qiu Fengyu walk into the kitchen, lost in thought, then finally stood up and left. She hated the Mexicans, hated their drug lords—they had killed her father. Was her concern for Qiu Fengyu because he felt the same hatred for the Mexicans?

He had turned their world upside down, solving everything. The most brutal solution, also the fastest with no lingering consequences.

Meanwhile, several senior FBI officials from Austin, Texas, stood in the morgue of a hospital in a Mexican border town, staring at the bodies, their brows furrowed.

“Yes, we have no way to prove who did it. The surveillance hard drives have all been removed. Nothing was recorded. Highway cameras found nothing. In this area, apart from Harvey Copley’s own surveillance, no one dares install cameras,” explained a Mexican police official to the FBI agents. “You know his power here was immense.”

“Not anymore. His power now fits in a morgue drawer!” scoffed an FBI agent. “Thank you, I think it’s time we left.”

As they walked out, one agent murmured to his colleague, “I’ve had enough. What kind of assignment is this? Wesson betrayed us long ago—why are we even investigating? It’s obviously gang retaliation. So clean and efficient, no way less than dozens of attackers could pull it off.”

“Damn Mexicans—nothing uncovered. Maybe they don’t even want to investigate. They’re glad—a hated bastard dead, and another will take his place.”

The killing method was exceedingly rare, leaving the forensic examiner astonished.

This was the ultimate in execution.

The only unresolved question was why Harvey Copley’s cross-border men were wiped out on a small hillside, and killed with their own weapons.

Clearly, these bastards cherished their lives—not likely to kill each other or commit suicide. No useful evidence at the scene. Footprints were confused, tire tracks destroyed, no surveillance nearby.

The only witnesses were the police from Abilene.

But according to Sheriff Braking, these bastards were out for revenge, ambushing them on the hill. The most compelling evidence: among the dead was a Mexican caught illegally crossing, and he was a companion of Harvey Copley’s brother, who’d been killed crossing.

“This method is similar to the one that destroyed the Russian gang,” an FBI agent said to his colleague as they returned to their car. “If it’s not just one person, what kind of people are they?”

“They’re cleaning up the scum.”

“Let’s hope so… I doubt the chief will just let it go. For now… let’s leave this damn place. This was a rotten assignment.”

At that moment, Qiu Fengyu was already sitting at the bar, waiting.