His Purpose
98. Bloody Gloom

Tension swept the atmosphere. Liem faithfully looked at Rayan who now looked to be massaging her wrinkled forehead. Something big just hit the company. Foreign partners who some time ago cooperated with them turned out to be illegal companies that are not registered in any country.

They're fooled. The foreigners were so skilled at falsifying letters as well as identities. Rayan Adibrata suffered a fantastic loss. You could say his company is on the verge of a situation and almost bankrupt. Half the assets of the company are now lost to cover loosened finances. Even a number of branches were affected in a state of anxiety.

"Siranata, shouldn't we ask Wiranata for help?" Liem asked.

There was no response from Rayan. Liem knew it was the most difficult choice for his master considering their relationship with Wiranata was not as good as it seemed. Moreover, Liem knew Rayan hated the eldest son of Wiranata whose unlucky status is now as a daughter-in-law.

Prestigiousness. Maybe that's what underlies Rayan's reluctance.

"Comeout. Let me first think of the next step." Rayan said lethargic.

Liem nodded briefly and left Rayan.

After Liem died, Rayan seemed to exhale his heavy lust. He turned the chair to the large window in the back. Not that he was unconscious, this mess must have something to do with Gibran.

He remembered the conversation when they last met.

"You know who to look for me if you want to" Gibran said, with a sharp grin. His long finger slipped a business card into the pocket of the suit Liem was wearing, Rayan's personal secretary.

The boy seemed to know what was going to happen. Or he himself is the mastermind of this mess. He could have wanted Rayan to look for him and beg for help.

After seizing Maria by force, what else did that Mad Bastard want?

Elsewhere, Gibran appears to be agile to move his body in the face of several attacks. Gibran strangled the man in front of him, while his legs twisted backwards, kicking another man who was about to ambush him with a knife.

The knife fell down next to the man. Afterward, Gibran without hesitation broke the neck of the man he had been clutching, then shot the knife holder who was about to rise up to fight.

Both died after his friends who had earlier Gibran fell. Gibran continued his steps to the end of the hall, standing on the edge of the stairs that led down with his eyes watching.

His body was back on alert when the tip of his eye caught a movement from the side. Sure enough, three men suddenly emerged from the pile of wooden boxes and opened fire towards Gibran.

Gibran managed to evade the shot by rolling his body to the side, hiding in the wall of the passageway he had previously passed.

Gibran peeked and quickly pulled back the head that had almost been shot. He looked back and moved to lift one of the bodies lying there, using it as a protector as he exited the hall.

A bullet attack immediately struck him blindly. The body he used as a shield was now full of blood. Gibran dropped the body and shot straight at the three men who seemed to have run out of ammunition.

Gibran took one of the long-barreled guns and its ammunition. He kicked the head of the man he had just shot and then walked casually down the stairs.

The underground storage warehouse was wide enough to make it take a long time to arrive at the destination. The dark atmosphere also requires Gibran to increase intuition.

Dor's!

Gibran shot one man hiding behind a wall. His body immediately lay down before it could attack Gibran.

Gibran threw his empty gun, filling the bullets in the weapon he had taken from the hands of the enemy.

Gibran clapped his body on the wall, observing the situation of the corridor crossing while sharpening his eyes and ears. It feels quite safe Gibran also came out slowly. He turned to the left without even lowering his alertness.

His hand was on standby raising a weapon, his steps swaying without a sound. Gibran made it through three turns until he finally rolled over because someone suddenly attacked him from overhead.

Gibran attempted to release the arm loop that strangled him. His movements were locked as the man behind him wrapped around Gibran's body with his legs.

The two rolled on the floor against the force. Gibran pointed their bodies towards the pile of wood and banged it hard until the wood fell.

He wiped the blood on the forehead that had been hit. Gibran's breathing panted as he stretched his neck which had been strangled strongly.

"Useless," he sizzled sharply.

Gibran took back his thrown rifle, resumed his steps and immediately shot at the swarm of people who had appeared from the front.

Again his steps were restrained when another group came and immediately besieged Gibran. Gibran. This is so annoying. Gibran at least likes his time wasted.

They were all pointing guns at Gibran. Gibran glanced at his surroundings sharply. He quietly pulled out a star disc from behind his shoulder while scratching his neck, then threw it to hit some weapons they were holding.

Gibran used the opportunity to kick the hand of one of the people on his right to drop the weapon, holding it from behind until when shot after shot came Gibran was able to avoid it.

The man died in Gibran's arms. While Gibran fought back by counter-attacking the men and subverting them without remainder.

The corner of Gibran's lips was raised cynically. He wiped his face, splashed with blood, then threw the body of the man he had made as a shield.

Without wasting any time Gibran walked towards the small hallway in the corner of the room. Its dark aura completes the dark atmosphere of the basement. In one second Gibran shot two guards standing on the left right side of a door, then kicked the door open with a loud bang.

A man grinned at Gibran's arrival. His sharpened roar rested his back on the chair, wiggling it slowly to the right and to the left as he continued to stare at Gibran.

"It's still as good as it used to be" he said.

Gibran stared coldly at the man. He threw the emblem onto the table, making the man raise an eyebrow by throwing a question.

"Your servant has already finished," he replied.

"Ow ...?" The man blinked. "You killed him?" He didn't seem surprised.

Then a loud laugh echoed through the room. The man rubbed the corner of his watery eyes while continuing to echo laughter.

"If this is how you're showing Willis' blood getting thicker in your body. Hahaha ..."

"I'm the one you're a part of" the man continued grinning.

Gibran flashing flat tends to be lazy. "Isn't it good if I go? You can freely master the dark business of the Old Bangka without having to feel rivaled by me. That's what you're looking forward to, isn't it?"

The man's sharpness turned flat. His gaze was sharpened with his lips clenched straight. While Gibran grinned because his speech was on target.

"I'm the one you're no better than me."

"You're just a pickle boy who enslaved Willis to become a killing machine."

Gibran drew closer to the edge of the table, bowing with his hands there, grinning with a sharp look. "Don't bother me if I don't want to blow up your fucking base."

"This time I'm kind enough to let you. But next time, I swear I'm gonna melt it with this useless body of yours."

Gibran raised his body again, grabbed the rifle before turning out of the room. He shot several of the men who appeared around the hallway.

Gibran touched handsfree in his ear. Instantly Gabriel's voice rang out, "Why leave it and leave it like that? Why not just finish it so that it doesn't bother you?"

The corner of Gibran's lips twitched, "It looks like he's still useful in the future."