Sha Qing

Chapter 75: Fugitives (2)

In the study.

The wave of anger from being betrayed and the self-inflicted humiliation turned into a lava that nearly melted Yavre's entire body when he got the information he wanted to verify from the intelligence peddler.

Leo Lawrence! I'm going to drag his intestines out for the sharks to eat and make his life a living hell! The young Duke thoughts as he gnashed his teeth furiously.

He then pressed the desktop alarm button without hesitation, and thirty seconds later, a group of armed guards burst into the meeting room to make a thorough search, only to find out that the target had disappeared.

"...... He escaped from here!" yelled one of the guards.

The young Yavre rushed to the edge of the terrace and looked down. The handmade rope tied to the railing was hanging down the fifth floor, swinging in the night breeze as if it was mocking someone's slow response.

With a slap on the railing, Yavre snarled as he felt the tremor on his palm, "Get him! Get him! Search the entire clubhouse and bring him to me!"

At the same time, an off-road vehicle drove out of the clubhouse under the veil of the night.

As soon as the miniature walkie-talkie on the bodyguard's shoulder sounded, Leo reached behind the guard and grabbed his neck, pressing his thumb and middle finger on both carotids at the same time.

The man immediately fell unconscious, and Leo's right hand quickly took over the steering wheel, while his left hand swooped over to open the door. He then kicked the guard out of the speeding car and climbed into the driver's seat.

********

Sha Qing was humming a song from his hometown as he stood under the shower head to rinse the blood off his body, and the scarlet water on the floor flowed like a melody towards the drainage.

A bloody suit was tossed in the corner, no longer wearable, but fortunately, William's figure was about the same as his, therefore he could pick and choose whatever he wanted from the latter's wardrobe.

He also found a half bottle of a quick-acting hair dye next to the shampoo. He then dyed his short, yellow straw-like hair back to black. In fact, despite changing his hair color countless times, he still liked black the most.

It looks natural, lowkey, discreet, and it complimented his skin-his real skin tone, which was a very healthy light wheat color, not the fair one that had been touched up with a skin bleaching cream. Although that stuff contained hydroquinone and mercury, which were harmful to the body in the long run, he still had to use it because he had to go all out in order to perfect his disguise and get close to the perceptive federal agent. He even had to use small, simulated skin patches made of silicone to hide the scars on his body.

He was confident that he could flawlessly pretend in regards to all aspects that can be expressed externally- appearance, manners, personality; but those parts that are hidden in the heart, called "feelings", were difficult for the reason to control. For example, right now-he was looking at the black-haired man in the mirror but in a moment of trance, a figure of another dark-haired man overlapped his', and he suddenly felt the familiar breath and body heat of that person

The noises outside the window disturbed his thoughts. He unhappily opened the blinds to peek out and saw a squad of heavily armed bodyguards jumping out of the truck and searching the surrounding villas in groups.

Some of them were about to reach the place he was in.

This unexpected turn of events messed up his original plan, and it now seemed impossible to take care of the other fishes before dawn. Leaving the clubhouse safely also got even more difficult.