Conan: Begins to collaborate with Miss Bayonetta and become famous

In the dark passage, only the observation window on the heavy iron door revealed a cold, regular green light.

Bai Jiu slid down to the floor, leaning against the door, his forehead pressed against the cold metal. The resentful beating he had just received had caused his already mangled knuckles to crack again, and blood slowly flowed down the door panel, but he felt no pain.

“If he got his hands on the virus flash memory…” Bai Jiu murmured to himself, his voice hollow, as if he were untangling a logical chain leading to a darker abyss, “…and controlled the intelligent entity…and even opened the ‘Doomsday Vault’…”

He gasped, as if stung by his own deduction, “I must… I must give him the horseshoe? Or…”

He couldn't find a more suitable word, only feeling a surge of anger mixed with immense powerlessness pounding in his chest, burning his throat dry.

In this way, he can... control the intelligent entity?

Or are they being controlled by an intelligent entity?

Or... would we perish together?

This thought caused him even more pain.

Could it be that what he has been searching for with such difficulty will ultimately become a weapon handed to the enemy?

Or is it a more desperate key, a key to perish together with the enemy?

"Ah—!" The suppressed anger and resentment finally broke through the dam of reason. He roared and once again used his injured fist to smash hard against the cold iron lock and heavy iron chain in front of him!

The clanging of metal echoed through the corridor, accompanied by the muffled sound of his finger bones possibly shattering.

He hated Rum's schemes, hated this unsolvable deadlock, and hated his own powerlessness at this moment.

Inside the door, bathed in green light, Lao Hei was wrapping the last few critical cables with insulating tape.

Hearing the banging and growling outside the door, he didn't stop what he was doing; he just shook his head almost imperceptibly.

There was no blame or helplessness in that head shake, only a deep, knowing calm.

"That's all you can do for me, Baijiu." His voice came through the iron gate, still as smooth as a lake, without ripples, yet carrying a force that brought the conversation to a close.

This statement is both a factual statement and a way to... absolve the liquor company of responsibility.

The meaning is clear: This is my battlefield, and your battlefield is not here.

"Old Hei..." Baijiu's voice choked.

He opened his mouth, and behind that name came a surge of intense emotions that almost overwhelmed him—reluctance, grief, guilt, and the tearing feeling of watching his best friend die helplessly.

They crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood together, shared their deepest secrets, and placed absolute trust in each other. They were more than just ordinary partners; they were practically family.

Non-vegetation, ruthless Practice makes perfect?

No matter how calm and resilient a liquor may be, it is still made of flesh and blood and possesses passionate emotions.

Losing Lao Hei was like having a piece of his soul ripped out.

"What about our original plan?" Old Hei's voice rang out again, calm, even carrying a barely perceptible, distant, reminiscent quality, deliberately changing the heartbreaking atmosphere.

Before Baijiu could answer, he spoke, almost to himself, in a rare, almost mocking tone, as if describing a forever unreachable shore: "Retire? Find a sunny little town, invite Vermouth along, and open a restaurant? Or perhaps..."

He paused, and his tone seemed to carry a very faint hint of longing for a simple life, "...Let's go to a wild lake, just the two of us, bring the simplest fishing rods, and quietly...fish?"

This scene, so ordinary and so distant, is more heartbreaking than any grand statement when mentioned in this hellish setting.

That is the tranquility that ordinary people can reach after the smoke of war has cleared, but it is a luxury that people like them may never be able to achieve even if they spend their entire lives.

But this topic only lasted for a brief moment.

Old Hei quickly snapped out of his brief daze, his tone returning to calm as he brought the conversation back to the cold, heavy reality:

"This is my task. Or rather... this is my mission."

His voice was soft, yet each word was clear, carrying an undeniable sense of resignation, or rather, an awareness: "From the moment I was born, perhaps... I was born to live for this moment. To dismantle the most dangerous things, to find the only way out in dire straits—even if that way doesn't lead to myself. This is the work I was born to complete."

Towards the end, a barely perceptible sob seemed to appear in his calm and even tone.

It was very light and was quickly suppressed, but the white wine outside the door caught it.

Old Hei is also a human being; he also has things he's reluctant to leave behind and regrets he hasn't fully expressed.

He simply channeled all of this into absolute composure in fulfilling his mission.

"Old Hei... no, I still can't do it..." Baijiu shook his head.

He couldn't accept it, couldn't just turn away and leave Old Black alone in the darkness and the impending collapse. It went against all his instincts and emotions.

"You don't need to say anything more, my brother."

Old Hei interrupted him, his voice carrying a strange gentleness and an all-knowing clarity.

He called out "brother" so naturally, yet with such weight.

“I know very well. I know everything. I know your resentment, I know your pain, and I know... what you should do next.”

He paused, as if using his last moments to hand over the reins:

"This is the path I was born to walk. I've reached the end."

“The road ahead,” his voice was unusually firm, filled with a sense of entrustment, “will be walked by you… for me.”

The green numbers, pulsating, silently urge us on.

Baijiu looked at the decreasing numbers and the unmoving iron gate, and the resentment in his heart, like a trapped beast, surged forth once more.

He suddenly stood up and, disregarding everything, rammed his body against the iron gate again!

He felt a sharp pain from an old injury in his shoulder, but he seemed oblivious to it.

“Time…” Inside the door, Old Hei finally lifted his gaze from the complex circuitry and glanced at the jumping green numbers.

His voice remained calm, yet carried an undeniable urgency—a final reminder, a final farewell: "I think it's almost too late."

"You should leave here, Baijiu."

"You still have... your mission to complete."

Go find Rum.

Reclaim the virus flash memory.

Locate the "Sevastopol".

To obtain the "horseshoe".

Stop the intelligent entity, or Rum, or that "final reckoning".

These are the paths Lao Hei could no longer take; they are the unfinished missions he entrusted to the liquor industry.