msmithbooks Chapter 133 A Storm is About to Rise
Chapter 133 A Storm is About to Rise
Chapter 133 A Storm is About to Rise
The blinding red and blue police lights flashed wildly in the thick sea fog, making the night sky over the western part of Long Beach Port look even more like a battlefield.
The sea breeze blew in from the Pacific Ocean, carrying the smells of gunpowder, the acrid smell of burning rubber, and a strong, nauseating stench of blood, which both irritated everyone present.
"Snap! Snap!"
Flashbulbs went off one after another as Lorna Barrett, wearing a thin trench coat and holding a Leica camera, trudged along the edge of the police cordon, stepping over shards of glass.
Her eyes were bloodshot from excessive excitement, greedily capturing every scene before her.
That pickup truck could no longer be called a vehicle; its riddled metal shell looked like the spit-out remains of a giant beast after chewing it up.
Around the pickup truck lay a mangled corpse—no word other than "scattered" could describe it.
However, the most horrifying thing was the corpse lying in the center of the warehouse: the entire head looked like a meat patty that had been repeatedly crushed by a heavy hammer, the facial features were fused together, and only the Japanese wakizashi next to it, which was covered in blood, could barely prove his identity in life.
Bundles of cash were soaked in blood, and several passports were scattered on the ground.
"Damn it! Do these Asian gangsters think this is the Vietnam War? Their firepower is even stronger than our department's commando unit!"
A veteran homicide detective in a trench coat covered his nose, poked at the corpse on the ground with the tip of his leather shoe, and complained loudly to his colleague next to him.
"Sir, the preliminary assessment is that this was a yakuza brawl triggered by a dispute over the division of spoils. A large amount of Japanese yen and US dollars were left at the scene, and the deceased's identification characteristics match those of Japanese yakuza members. Judging from the horrific scene, it seems that two groups had a falling out over this money." Another officer, holding a flashlight, reported while taking notes.
Standing outside the police line, Lorna heard every word of the conversation.
She pressed the shutter, perfectly capturing the Japanese assassin with his head shattered, the banknotes scattered on the ground, and the police officers taking photos as evidence in the distance, all in the same frame.
The cold wind blew into her collar, but she was completely unaware of the cold.
The police also believe it was a gangland shootout?
Do not make jokes.
She knew better than anyone that Qin Han had sent her on this trip for no reason other than a pointless street humiliation.
The mess on the ground, and the Japanese man beaten to a pulp, were all sending her a chilling yet incredibly exciting signal.
Without lingering any longer, she turned and got into her car, floored the gas pedal, and sped along the Pacific Coast Highway toward the city.
"Snapped!"
A stack of black and white photos that had just been developed in the darkroom was tossed onto the coffee table by Rona.
"The police have basically determined that it was an Asian gang internal affair, and the murder was for money." Lorna stared intently at Qin Han, who was sitting on the sofa.
-
He had washed away the blood and smoke of last night, changed into a casual jacket, and looked exceptionally refreshed.
He gently pushed the steaming cup of coffee in front of Lorna: "Just what I guessed. They need a reasonable explanation to appease the citizens of Los Angeles, and this characterization is perfect, isn't it?"
"Qin! Don't play games with me!" Rona shoved her coffee cup aside. "You called me over here to document the scene! Tell me the whole truth, what exactly happened?"
Qin Han quietly observed the news queen, who was on the verge of exploding: "The photos are well taken, Rona. Your sense of the camera is getting sharper and sharper."
He picked up the top photo. "These people are the Japanese far-right extremists who were previously lurking in Los Angeles."
Lorna gasped. Just as she had expected!
"Incredibly, last night at the Dorothy Chandler Theatre—the venue for the Oscars—they planted enough C4 explosives to blow the entire venue to smithereens."
Lorna was stunned.
Last night, that theater was filled with Hollywood's elite! If those explosives had been detonated, America's cultural industry would have instantly regressed by twenty years.
"You—what did you say? Blow up the Oscars?" Her voice trembled violently, her hands gripping the edge of the sofa tightly. "What about last night—"
"The people from Han's Security Company intercepted the signal from the outside, dismantled the detonation device in advance, and followed the clues to locate their hideout."
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"To protect Hollywood, we had to fight back in self-defense. The whole Long Beach port incident is the result."
After some thought, Qin Han decided to conceal part of the truth.
"My God—" Rona slumped onto the opposite sofa, her mind reeling with shock.
This is absolutely the biggest news of the century!
A newly emerging Chinese film and television company secretly thwarted a terrorist attack on the American cultural center, using its private army to eliminate the terrorists!
If this gets out, the whole of America will go crazy!
"I'm going to write it! I'm going to write it all down! Qin, this will not only make you a Hollywood hero, it will make you a hero across America!"
Qin Han pressed down on her shoulder, looking at her intently: "Luo Na, this manuscript must be kept under wraps for now; not a single word can be leaked."
"Why?!" Rona couldn't understand why someone with such a great reputation and such a good opportunity to build momentum would hide it.
"Because behind this group of right-wing lunatics are deep-seated interests in Washington," Qin Han sighed. "Don't forget the Japanese clique I mentioned to you! Without official confirmation, revealing the truth now is tantamount to slapping the US intelligence agencies in the face."
"They will not only refuse to acknowledge us as heroes, but will also use the charge of endangering national security to obliterate us along with this report."
Lorna, a shrewd woman who had spent years navigating the media industry, instantly grasped the implications.
"We need to wait. Wait until the people in Washington find a breakthrough with the physical evidence I provided; wait until they need a media outlet to publicize their counterterrorism achievements—"
"That's when your report will go viral across America."
"I understand." Lorna took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing her inner turmoil. "If a big shot in Washington endorses it, I assure you, I'll use all the media resources to portray Hans Films as the invisible guardian of Hollywood!"
"All the studio owners and big stars will be eternally grateful to you!"
"Bang—!"
Just as Lorna left, the door to the second-floor bedroom was suddenly pushed open with a dull thud.
Bruce Lee, wearing a gray vest, strode downstairs: "No wonder you left so early last night."
Qin Han did not avoid his master's gaze, stood up, poured a glass of warm water and handed it to him.
Bruce Lee didn't take it, but just stared intently at him.
He could only put down his water glass, close his eyes, and let the bloody motel flash through his mind again before slowly saying, "Master, they not only planted C4 bombs at the Oscars venue."
"Chen Bing and Fatty—they're dead. They were brutally beheaded by that group of Japanese at the Sunset Motel; their heads were laid out on the bed, their bodies nailed to the wall. On their chests—the character for 'kill' was written in their own blood."
"Bang!" Bruce Lee slammed his fist on the coffee table, and the hard wooden board instantly cracked open.
This martial arts master, who was once the most powerful in the world, began to tremble uncontrollably, his eyes turned bloodshot instantly, and the veins in his neck throbbed.
An overwhelming sense of guilt gnawed at Bruce Lee's heart like a venomous snake.
It was because of me, because those Japanese wanted to deal with me, that these innocent disciples were implicated!
Suddenly, he stepped forward and grabbed Qin Han by the collar with both hands: "Why didn't you tell me about something this big?! Why didn't you warn me beforehand and just took them to fight to the death on your own?!"
His roar echoed in the living room, filled with boundless anger and self-reproach. "I'm your master! Even if the sky falls, I should be the one to hold it up! What do you take me for? An actor who only knows how to put on airs in front of the camera?!"
Faced with this thunderous rage, Qin Han did not resist. He knew that his master needed to vent his anger, otherwise it would completely crush the master's heart.
Only when Bruce Lee's breathing gradually calmed down and the pressure on his hand eased slightly did Qin Han slowly raise his hand and grasp his master's taut wrist.
"Master, why are the Japanese so desperate to kill you? Is it because of personal grudges? No." His gaze was piercing: "Because you are the only banner of the spirit of Chinese martial arts in this world. What they want to destroy is the cultural awakening that this banner represents."
"You must always float cleanly in the sunlight, and never be tainted by this blood and mud."
The room became incredibly quiet.
"Where the sunlight doesn't reach, someone has to clean up the mess." Qin Han's voice softened. "I'm not only your apprentice, but also the mastermind behind Han's Film Company. The dirty and tiring work is mine to do. I am the shadow, and you must be the light."
Looking at his apprentice, Bruce Lee felt an indescribable pang of sorrow well up in his nose.
He lowered his head and wiped his nose.
It was a profound mourning for the lost life, and also a regret and helplessness for the apprentice who silently endured all of this.
After a long silence, he lowered his hands, the anger in his eyes transforming into the strongest resolve: "I will make arrangements for Chen Binghe and Fatty's families."
I will buy the best burial plots and erect tombstones for them.
"Okay." Qin Han nodded, then continued, "Master, I left a crucial piece of evidence in Washington. I'm going to use the American military and politicians to teach these Japanese a lesson."
Bruce Lee gripped Chin Han's shoulder tightly, their eyes meeting: "Not only that, I want our movie to sweep the whole world."
I want to make those Japanese people feel what true fear is in the face of an even stronger cultural storm!
Two days later, Washington, D.C., the Pentagon.
The morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the heavy oak desk.
A logistics soldier carrying a heavy, military-green explosion-proof box strode into the office of the logistics commander.
"General, this is a top-secret package sent urgently from Los Angeles." He placed the explosion-proof box steadily in the center of his desk.
-
General Bill put down his coffee cup. His previously relaxed gaze instantly tightened when he saw the distinctive red combination lock on the suitcase.
This is what he left for Samuel.
"Go out." The general waved his hand.
The logistics personnel quickly left the room, Bill entered the password, and with a "click," the explosion-proof box popped open.
What comes into view are detonators, electronic detonators, and a thick stack of photos lying quietly on the shock-absorbing foam.
In the scene, several pieces of gray C4 plastic explosives were tightly bound to a massive load-bearing column with industrial tape. The iconic carved decorations in the background made the general gasp: "Dorothy Chandler Theatre? This is—the Oscars ceremony?!"
Cold sweat instantly soaked through the general's shirt.
If these explosives were detonated, the venue would be reduced to ruins.
The entire U.S. national security system is facing the most terrifying purge of collective responsibility since the founding of the nation!
The heads of the Pentagon, CIA, and FBI are probably lining up to be hanged!
"Damn Japanese dwarfs! Are they insane?!" He slammed his fist on the desk, splashing coffee everywhere.
However, after the fear subsided, a frenzy and excitement began to spread wildly in his eyes.
This is hardly an assassination attempt targeting a Chinese movie star; it's a blatant act of terrorism against the United States!
In Washington, a crocodile pool, what's most lacking is the perfect reason to deliver a fatal blow to a political opponent.
Those "old zombies" who have long been receiving dirty money from Japanese zaibatsu and providing political asylum and intelligence cover for the right-wing Japanese organization "Seirankai" in Capitol Hill and the intelligence system have always been a huge obstacle for the new generation of military officers to climb the ranks.
Now, these politicians have become accomplices in harboring "terrorists who planted high explosives on American soil"!
The witnesses can come forward themselves, and the physical evidence is already right in front of them. They have all become fish on the chopping block, at the mercy of others!
What was sent from Los Angeles was not a bomb at all, but a peerless dragon-slaying sword that could sweep away political enemies in Washington!
General Bill never imagined that his initial attempt to gain more personal wealth by befriending a young Chinese man would result in such a generous gift.
And General Samuel, after retiring, gave himself a perfect assist!
"Well done—so well done—" he muttered to himself, his facial muscles twitching slightly with extreme excitement.
General Bill paced back and forth in his office, mentally going through all the possibilities before pushing aside all the documents on his desk and picking up the receiver of the red secure telephone.
"Get to the White House. Find the President. Tell him we've suffered the worst terrorist attack against national security in the history of our nation!"
"Fortunately, someone took precautions beforehand, which prevented the attack from happening. I need to report to him immediately!"
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