Spy game? Stop guessing, I really am an undercover agent!

Chapter 91 Ruining the place

The group attracted the attention of the casino's guests as soon as they entered.

The once bustling casino seemed to be frozen in place for a few seconds, all sounds disappearing for a short time. Meanwhile, the portly Zuo Mingquan moved through the crowd like a silent tiger.

Most of the gamblers at the bottom are thugs; you can tell from their clothes and behavior that they are up to no good.

Don't let Zuo Mingquan's chubby and unassuming appearance fool you; the group behind him has sharp eyes and an imposing presence.

Everyone's hands were intentionally or unintentionally placed on their waists.

Without a doubt, these people are all carrying weapons.

Zuo Mingquan walked straight to the Pai Gow table. The other gamblers made way for him, but they only stepped back a few paces; they didn't leave.

This guy is obviously here to cause trouble. Of course, these gangsters are interested in this kind of excitement.

"May I ask what brings you here, sir?" The casino manager, having heard the commotion, quickly ran out from the back room.

Zuo Mingquan sat down opposite the manager with an imposing air and said coldly, "Nonsense, of course I come here to get some money to spend, not to have tea."

Gamblers never say they're going to gamble; they always say they're there to withdraw money. This is partly for good luck and partly to bolster their courage.

The manager took one look and realized this was an old scoundrel, so he immediately rolled up his sleeves and said, "How about I entertain the guest?"

"You?" Zuo Mingquan sized up the casino manager, then with lightning speed, he drew his sidearm from his waist and fired a shot into the manager's forehead.

Gunshots rang out, and the casino manager fell to the ground, causing immediate chaos at the scene.

"Tch, who do you think you are to gamble with me?" Zuo Mingquan stood up and said, "What? Now the big shots are too scared to step forward, so you're sending the small ones to take their place?"

"Call Tian Darong out."

With a rustling sound, the beaded curtain on the second floor was lifted, and a figure stood upstairs and said to Zuo Mingquan, "Please, guest, have a word with me."

Zuo Mingquan glanced at the man upstairs, tucked his pistol back into his waistband, and strolled upstairs with an air of nonchalance.

As you ascend the carved wooden staircase, the atmosphere at the bottom gradually gives way to a sweet, languid, and decaying ambiance.

The corridor is lined with cubicles with beaded or cloth curtains hanging on either side.

The air was filled with the unique, drowsy sweet aroma of roasted opium paste, along with a smell of cheap tea and incense.

The faint sounds of puffing from pipes, satisfied sighs from smokers, and occasional suppressed coughs could be heard from all directions.

At the end of the corridor, the person who had spoken earlier lifted the beaded curtain in front of him.

The room was filled with smoke. Tian Darong leaned back on the opium couch, elegantly fiddling with the tobacco paste on the lamp with a tobacco stick.

The two suppliers next to them were so startled when they saw a large group of people enter that they almost dropped their pipes.

Zuo Mingquan glanced at Tian Darong, who was puffing on a cigarette, and a flash of disdain crossed his eyes.

The information I received earlier said that this Tian Darong had practiced martial arts since childhood and that his iron fists were capable of killing a mad bull.

Judging from his current appearance, after so many years of pampered life and developing a heavy opium addiction, it's a miracle he's retained even 30% of his martial arts skills.

Tian Darong exhaled a puff of smoke and said lazily, "May I ask how the guest is addressed? I don't think I know the guest."

Before the waiter could even greet him, Zuo Mingquan sat down opposite Tian Darong: "Whether we know each other or not doesn't matter. The important thing is that you still have to pay back the debt you owe." "Debt? How come I didn't know I owed money to a guest?" Tian Darong sat up straight and said slowly, "It's alright. As the saying goes, at home you rely on your parents, but when you're out in the world, you rely on your friends."

"If you are short of money, I can afford to pay you a hundred or two hundred silver dollars."

"Qiusheng, go to the accounting office and get one hundred silver dollars for this gentleman's travel expenses."

"One hundred silver dollars, Mr. Tian is quite generous," Zuo Mingquan chuckled. "However, you should keep this money for your coffin."

"How dare you!" The two guards behind Tian Darong immediately drew their pistols, but Zuo Mingquan had even more guns behind him, one for each of them.

Upon seeing this, Tian Darong instantly sobered up. With so many weapons in his hands, he was clearly not a gangster like them.

"Who exactly are you, sir? Where exactly have I offended you?" Although Tian Darong's tone was sharp, he could not hide the panic in his expression.

"If you want to know, I'll burn it for you after you die."

"Do it."

As soon as the voice fell, Zuo Mingquan's chubby body flipped backward with extreme agility, and fired two shots. In an instant, gunfire erupted in the confined space, bullets sent wood chips flying from the opium couch, the opium lamp shattered, and burning opium paste splattered everywhere.

Tian Darong reacted extremely quickly, rolling off the opium couch. The two guards behind him also opened fire at the same time. The bullets ricocheted wildly in the confined space, and the walls were instantly riddled with bullet holes.

One supplier screamed as a stray bullet struck his chest, while another huddled in a corner, clutching his head and screaming.

The gunshots served as a signal. Zuo Mingquan had brought along agents who had received basic training, making them far more professional than thugs.

They were carrying real weapons, while Tian Darong's henchmen were still using axes and knives.
Bang bang bang bang, gunshots rang out continuously, accompanied by screams of agony.

The beaded curtain was shattered by bullets, and the cloth curtain was soaked in blood. Some of the terrified smokers collapsed to the ground, while others tried to escape but were hit by stray bullets or caught in the melee.

A young boy who had just run out of the cubicle was shot through the head by a stray bullet.

The gunfight on the second floor immediately alerted the crowd downstairs. The gamblers screamed and fled in panic, while the thugs below sent out signals, calling for reinforcements from their thugs who were stationed nearby.

However, all of this was exactly what Zuo Mingquan had expected.

On the street, dozens of men wearing short jackets and carrying axes rushed to the entrance of Fushou Restaurant. Suddenly, a group of people opposite them stood up, kicked over the table in front of them, and pulled out pistols to shoot at them.

In just one minute, the entrance was a river of blood. A group of thugs were either dead or injured, lying on the ground groaning.

Second floor, opium den.
At this moment, Tian Darong also realized that something was wrong. The other party was coming to take his life. Perhaps it was the moment of life and death that triggered his potential. Tian Darong moved and smashed through the second-floor window, falling into the alley below.

He knew that falling down might mean certain death, but he had no choice. Staying up there would mean certain death, and falling down would at most result in serious injury, but dying was not so easy.

However, before he could even stand up straight, more than a dozen figures emerged from the darkness, each carrying a pistol.

The leader was a young man in his early twenties. He slowly walked up to Tian Darong, picked up the gun in his hand, and patted Tian Darong's cheek: "Aerial acrobat, huh? It's surprising that Boss Tian can do this too."

"Don't worry, we don't intend to kill you so easily. You're still worth some money, so take you with us."

Tian Darong struggled to ask, "Who exactly are you people?"

Zhang Zixian sneered, "The Shanghai office of the Jinling Special Service Committee. Remember, my name is Zhang Zixian."

(End of this chapter)