Shadow Empire

Chapter 1125 No Smoking and Door-to-Door Service
Do you smoke?

Several young men sat on the railing by the court. They had just finished a game of basketball. Nineteen-year-old Conte was very healthy and quite tall, nearly 1.9 meters.

Everyone who knows him firmly believes that he will grow a few more centimeters when he is around twenty years old, and may grow to be over 1.9 meters tall!

The Blue Harbor University he attended invited him to study at because of his height and basketball skills, with a full scholarship, plus various prize money and subsidies from competitions.

He had already achieved a goal that some people would find difficult to achieve in their entire lives, even though he was only a freshman in college.

Even scouts from some professional teams have started to take notice of him.

Of course, this doesn't mean he can play for a professional team right now, but it's good news, a positive sign, because it means there are more possibilities in his life.

Kant waved his hand. "Thank you for the invitation, but I don't smoke."

The people around him were his teammates and his classmates. They were not as outstanding as him, and these students were not specially admitted to the university because of their athletic talents.

They were more like participants in the college basketball club, able to chat with Conte, hang out with him, and play basketball together.

The real school team doesn't train here, and Conte hasn't proven himself on the team yet, but the coach says he'll be given a chance soon.

This year's college basketball league will consider starting him. The older generation of players has graduated, and there are some vacancies and opportunities in the team.

Not smoking is a self-imposed requirement for him to maintain his competitive form. Although he knows that some students on the school team also smoke, he does not smoke.

“You’ve missed one of the most important moments of your life,” his friend said, lighting his cigarette. He thought Conte was being a bit pretentious.

However, he didn't say it out loud or show it. Being able to play with the school team members is a remarkable thing in itself for many people.

If Conte manages to get into the professional basketball league, perhaps they can also leverage their relationship with Conte to gain some benefits.

Sometimes Conte wondered what smoking felt like, but he had a strong sense of self-control. He knew that this thing would ruin his future, so he resolutely avoided it.

On the court, young bodies collided constantly, and sweat poured out continuously. Just looking at these people brought a smile to his face.

This seems to be the sport he loves, and it's his future.

After resting for a while, one of the friends asked, "Want to play another round?"

Kant glanced at his watch and shook his head. "No, I have other things to do tonight."

His friends immediately started teasing him, "Is he going on a date with our cheerleader?"

Because of his tall and handsome appearance, Conte won the hearts of many girls, not to mention full scholarships, prize money, and the favor of professional team scouts.

University students, unless they come from particularly wealthy families, have already witnessed the importance of money in this society.

University tuition is no small sum, and many students at this school sell their blood to pay part of their tuition or to buy things they need.

Conte had also sold his blood; his family couldn't afford to send him to college, but his athletic talent gave him that opportunity.

In order to avoid feeling overly inferior in college due to his family background, he sold his blood twice before being admitted to university.

He used the money from selling his blood to buy his current outfit. These things... could be considered part of his vanity, but they are also very useful. They allow him to at least not be speechless because of his undignified clothes when facing classmates from well-off families.

Fortunately, everything is on track. Starting this semester, he will receive a prize of five to twenty yuan for each game. If he does well, he can earn fifty or sixty yuan or even more a month.

During busy seasons, there might be two or three games a week, or even three or four games. A month's income could be over a hundred, or even more!
A wonderful life was beckoning him; if he could make it into the NBA, he would never have to worry about money again.

He seemed perfectly at ease in the face of his friends' teasing. Perhaps it was the bright future that gave him his confidence. He draped his coat over his shoulders, tilted his head, and shrugged. "You all guessed it already, why are you still asking me?"

"Shet!"

His friends laughed and cursed.

"Get this damn love-flaunting guy out of here!"

"I can't stand him!"

Kant smiled and said goodbye to them before leaving.

His girlfriend is beautiful and has a great figure. He knows very well that his girlfriend may not really love him, and is more likely just a type of "collecting" that is common among college girls.

She felt that being able to date or even sleep with him was a very fashionable thing and a way to show off her charm. As for whether there were real feelings involved, no one could say for sure.

Kanter didn't care much. After all, all he needed was his body. The heavy training and strict self-discipline kept his nerves on edge every day. He needed a way to vent, otherwise he would go crazy.

For young people, sex is the best way to release pent-up emotions.

He needed her just as she needed him—physical and emotional, not emotional.

The thought of a fierce battle that night made Kant very excited, and he and his girlfriend arranged to meet at a small hotel outside the school.

The federal youth are experiencing a wave of intellectual liberation, but that doesn’t mean schools will be as radical.

They haven't allowed co-ed dorms yet, which means that Conter and his girlfriend can't take care of their needs in either the boys' or girls' dorms; they have to go outside.

There are many small hotels like this outside Blue Harbor University, which are specifically designed for young people to take care of their physiological needs, and the prices are not expensive.

For just 50 minutes, you can get a whole night – what a bargain!
When Conte entered the small hotel he frequented, he glanced somewhat unexpectedly at the luxury cars parked on the side of the road. After getting the room key, he didn't go to his room immediately, but instead stood on the side of the corridor observing the luxury cars.

"You like cars too?" A young man who looked familiar to him, someone he had probably seen a few times but had never spoken to, stood beside him, and his gaze was also fixed on those luxury cars.

Older people tend to be wary of strangers striking up conversations with them; in the past, being approached by strangers was not a good thing.

But young people now seem to be becoming “foolish”; they seem to be full of goodwill towards everything and are willing to believe that everything is also full of goodwill towards them.

Kang nodded. "No one can resist these beautiful cars!"

The guy he was talking to agreed with him, saying, "The cheapest of these cars costs seven or eight thousand. We'll probably only ever see them on the street or in magazines in our lifetime."

Conte smiled but said nothing, though he was proud inside because he could afford it.

As long as he can enter the professional basketball league and become a professional basketball player, earning tens or hundreds of thousands of yuan a year, buying an 8,000 yuan car would be a piece of cake.
If he's lucky, his income might be even higher, but he won't tell a stranger that. He has his own pride, which he hides in a place only he can see.

"Yes, I hope that one day we can own our own car, even if it's not one."

The two young men smiled at each other and then parted ways. Kant went to his room, took a quick shower, and applied deodorant to the areas with the strongest odor.

As an athlete, he had a very pungent odor. He was young and had high hormone levels, which made his body like a machine that produced stench, constantly emitting those unpleasant smells.

He deliberately applied extra lint to his penis, because his girlfriend didn't want him to smell that unpleasant odor again during his best time.

What follows is a long wait.

The cheerleading squad is currently rehearsing, and in preparation for the upcoming college basketball league, they need to showcase the vibrant spirit of Blue Harbor University from the center court.

He didn't know how long he waited, but perhaps because he was too tired from the afternoon's training and play, he lay on the bed fiddling with his little brother and fell asleep without realizing it.

The sudden knocking startled him awake. He raised his arm to wipe the drool from his mouth before remembering what he was doing there.

He walked to the door, opened it, and said, "You're too late..."

A few minutes later, someone saw a tall man being helped away from the small hotel by several people. The owner didn't interfere much in this matter; he wasn't the kind of person who would cause trouble.

Kanter finally got into his favorite luxury car, albeit somewhat reluctantly. During the days he was kidnapped, some tissue was cut from his body, particularly around his neck. The initial terror gradually subsided, leaving only bewilderment.

He was locked in a small room with only a bed. Food was brought to him every day, but no matter whether he ate it or not, the food tray would be taken away when the time was up.

It must be said that the food was plentiful, but that's not what he wanted; he wanted to leave.

I don't know how much time passed in the room, but suddenly, a small window in the door was opened, revealing a pair of somewhat sinister eyes.

A pair of gray eyes stared at him through the small window. "Do you smoke?"

Conte swallowed hard, his nervousness causing him to instinctively stand up. He awkwardly wiped his trouser legs with his palms. "No, sir."

"I don't smoke."

In the hospital room, Fran's confidant put down the receiver and walked to Fran's side. "He doesn't smoke."

Fran nodded. "Then let's go with this guy."

The doctor nodded. "I heard he's an athlete?"

"His health is very good. Are you planning to quit smoking?"

He thought Fran wanted a non-smoking lung, perhaps because he wanted to quit smoking completely, but that wasn't what Fran was thinking.

"If this surgery is successful, does that mean I can have a second or third one in the future?"

The doctor was a little taken aback by his question, but quickly understood what he meant.

The doctor nodded. "If your body supports it, then you can do it, but Mr. Fran, I don't recommend it."

“You are already quite old. In ten or twenty years, you may not be able to have the surgery.”

“And…” he said, laughing, “this healthy lung will allow you to use it for a very long time.”

He wanted to say that it would be "useful until you leave this world," but he didn't say it to avoid upsetting the patient's feelings.

Fran nodded slightly. "That's great. I have no desire to quit smoking."

He glanced at his trusted aide beside him, "Arrange it as soon as possible."

His confidant returned to the phone, whispered a few words, and then hung up.

In an unnamed dungeon somewhere in the city, Conte was still wondering why the guy outside the door was asking him if he smoked.

Before he could figure out the problem, a series of gunshots suddenly rang out all around him. They were very dense, erupted rapidly, and disappeared just as quickly. In an instant, there was no sound at all; it was eerily quiet.

He was so frightened that he trembled uncontrollably and quickly ran to a corner, where he began to urinate into the toilet.

The door to the room opened, and while covering his penis, he urinated everywhere, looking back at the people who came in with a terrified expression.

"Congratulations, you've been chosen."

The rusty, bloody smell outside the door made him want to sneeze. He was forced onto the bed, and a syringe was inserted into his skin. As the medicine was injected into his vein, he barely struggled and quickly lost consciousness completely.

A few minutes later, after being disinfected and packaged, he was taken to a private surgery room at the hospital.

Fran was lying there too, looking at the young, strong body on the bed next to his, his eyes filled with greed and desire. "I read in the newspaper last time that they said you can get a brain transplant, is that right?"

The doctor who was preparing for the surgery curled his lip and said, "Theoretically speaking, there's nothing wrong with this statement, but in practice, it's not feasible."

"Human nerves are very complex, and once severed, we have no way to fully restore them. However, some people have proposed a new theory: transplanting the brain along with the spine."

"As for whether it will be useful, nobody knows. Our generation won't be able to enjoy it, but maybe the next generation, or the generation after that, will have the opportunity to realize what you're thinking now."

"Don't move now, we're going to draw a line for you."

Fran lay naked on the operating table, showing no embarrassment or shyness whatsoever. The doctors drew and wrote on his chest with pens, because they had to open his chest, and open a larger area of ​​his chest, so they had to take into account the scars from the previous surgery.

With the preparations nearly complete, the doctor approached him with the injection fluid. "Ready to welcome a new life?"

"Mr. Fran?"

Fran took a deep breath, feeling a slight pain, and nodded seriously, saying, "Yes, I'm ready."

With a slight stinging sensation, the medication entered his vein. Within just a dozen seconds, he began to lose concentration and quickly lost consciousness.

The doctors looked at each other for a moment, then got to work.

The operating room lights also came on.

This wasn't exactly an illegal surgery; it was just a little illegitimate, but not illegal either, otherwise the hospital wouldn't have taken on the job.

Organ transplantation technology cannot be said to be completely mature, but it is relatively mature. Many doctors have already had more detailed learning experience, both on animals and even on some terminally ill patients.

For them, they don't care about the donor's condition; they just want to accumulate experience through this surgery to prepare for fully open transplant surgeries.

Meanwhile, Bob had arrived outside the operating room. He looked at the operating room light and wanted to knock on the door several times, but ultimately refrained.

The news from New Gold City is not good. Although Lance was attacked, he was not seriously injured. What's more troublesome is that there were other important figures in the car.

The attack, originally intended for Lance, has now become "malicious" against the Ministry of Defense. Those important figures, unable to contact Fran, have bypassed Fran and are now trying to reach him.

It wasn't about telling him how to get through this crisis, but rather giving him a good scolding.

The mayor also called him, but didn't give him a chance to explain or speak at all. All sorts of nasty things, including insults directed at his whole family, just came out of the receiver.

This made Bob realize that he might have gotten himself into big trouble.

Unfortunately, Fran went in to perform surgery at that moment, and there was no way to stop him, so he could only wait anxiously.

He had never wished so much, as at this moment, that Fran would emerge from inside healthy and conscious!
Meanwhile, darkness had completely fallen, and the very thing the New Gold City Police Chief feared most was unfolding—

One of the officers who participated in the "operation" today had just finished dinner—a cheap dinner: stir-fried ground beef from the supermarket's evening clearance sale with eggs, some tomato sauce, a vegetable salad, and bread.

He was just about to rest when someone knocked on the door. He had to shuffle over to the door. "Who's there?"

"Are you... sir?"

"I am a lawyer, and I have been asked by my client to speak with you."

The legal profession still holds a certain level of authority in the federal government. The officer stuffed the holster hanging by the door into his pants pocket and then opened the door.

Two elite individuals, each wearing a badge of a law firm on their chest, stood outside the door. Just by standing there, they exuded a unique and imposing aura.

This made the officer a little uneasy. "I don't think I've gotten into any trouble lately."

The lawyer standing in front smiled and said, "We're not here to cause you trouble, sir. On the contrary, we're here to offer you some benefits."

Would you mind coming out and talking to us?

(End of this chapter)