Under the backdrop of night, East Capital resembled a lurking steel beast.
Countless streams of traffic converged into glowing veins, rushing and flowing through the crevices of the concrete jungle.
Fang Cheng gazed at the bizarre and colorful nightscape, his eyes slightly shimring.
Shen Wei—he didn’t actually know the man well; most of what he knew was hearsay.
Although Ah Le’s words were sowhat subjective, it was undeniable that Shen Wei treated him quite well.
From the initial days of being a sparring partner at the club, Shen Wei, as the backstage boss, had already offered an industry-leading salary.
Later, without Fang Cheng asking for any favors, he was directly nad Employee of the Year and even hired as the club’s image ambassador.
That was when he’d just awakened his system, the stage where money was most needed for buying supplents and training resources.
Simultaneously, his grandfather’s cancer worsened, requiring daily stays in the ICU, and the money flowed like water, leaving his family on the verge of financial collapse.
His mother and uncle were worried sick, borrowing money left and right to gather the expensive surgery fees.
Shen Wei’s red envelopes and high salary alleviated the imdiate crisis at ho, like delivering charcoal in snowy weather.
Most importantly, after suspecting Fang Cheng might be the killer in the "Port Warehouse Massacre," Shen Wei didn’t blackmail him to do dirty work or extort any benefits.
Instead, he chose to keep Fang Cheng’s secret and secretly supported his future prospects.
Such behavior could be seen as a shrewd investnt and rare loyalty in the martial world.
Although Shen Wei was from the underworld, his vision was long-term, and he handled things with care, completely unlike other gang bosses who were ruthless and treacherous, forgetting loyalty upon seeing profit.
Fang Cheng had always been soone who repaid kindness.
If soone gives an inch, I return a foot.
In sentint and reason, this matter required a helping hand.
"Only..."
Fang Cheng furrowed his brows, placing his palm on the windowsill, his knuckles exerting slight force.
Repaying kindness is one thing; acting rashly is another.
What hidden truth does that so-called orphanage conceal?
What are the exact strengths and trump cards of the Bloodthorn rcenary Corps?
Without sufficient intelligence, intervening in such high-level mutant battles is akin to walking a tightrope on a cliff edge.
If he slips, he may lose everything he’s worked hard to build, including his life.
Fang Cheng was no saint.
As the leader of the Illuminati, responsible for the safety of many, he had to calculate costs and risks.
"Special orphan... capture... don’t kill Shen Wei..."
Fang Cheng murmured softly, as a sudden flash of lightning struck his mind.
If Ah Le’s guess was right, and the Bloodthorn rcenary Corps captured Shen Wei not for money or territory, but for the orphans with special abilities.
Then, the whole scenario makes complete sense.
As thoughts raced, Cheng Jiashu’s words, tinged with warning from the TV station’s lounge a few days ago, resurfaced clearly in his ears.
The Xiao Family, representing the Noah Organization, is deeply cooperating with the military on a significant project called the "Human Gene Decoding Project."
Their experintal thods are extrely cruel and require a large amount of active material.
These so-called materials refer to the wild mutants not listed on governnt census records, and without support.
To this end, they’ve even issued high bounties on Night City’s black market.
Connecting the dots, the truth suddenly beca clear.
This is not a simple gang vendetta; this is a pure hunting operation.
If those children fall into the hands of these people, their fate will not be good.
It would be the cold operating table, despair from being imprisoned and tortured, an endless hell!
Thinking of this, the hesitation in Fang Cheng’s eyes completely dissipated, replaced by a chilling coldness.
If it were rely to return a favor, he might have hesitated.
But when it involves using children as guinea pigs for live experints, it crosses his bottom line.
Moreover, when he created the "Illuminati," Fang Cheng solemnly swore to Lin Chuqiao, the Professor, and other core mbers.
The purpose of Illuminati is to be a beacon illuminating the dark world, protecting those mutants who long for a normal life yet are rejected by society.
If today, he turns a blind eye to these isolated children.
Then this lighthouse hasn’t even been completed, and it’s already collapsed.
Looking back in the future, how could he be at peace with himself?
After weighing everything, Fang Cheng made his decision.
Imdiately, he turned around, his gaze landing on Ah Le, who was still kneeling on the floor.
This man struggled to rise earlier, causing his wound to crack again, and the bright red blood soaked through the bandage around his waist.
The pain caused his body to tremble uncontrollably, with beads of sweat rolling down his face.
Yet he remained with his back straight, and his knees seed glued to the ground, his eyes revealed a stubbornness.
As if he was determined to continue kneeling until Fang Cheng agreed.
"Stand up."
Fang Cheng’s voice was still calm, but much of the icy tone had dissipated:
"I’ll take this on."
Ah Le sharply lifted his head, and those eyes dimd by desperation suddenly brightened, like dying embers reignited.
But instead of arising imdiately, he pressed his hands against the floor and bowed his head heavily towards the ground, making a muffled thud.
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