Chapter 319 - It's Peaceful

"You had been quiet since last night," said Addison while they were in the tub together. Wuming was behind her and she was pressed against his chest. "Do you think I'm a horrible creature?"

Wuming laughed as his hands slid over her arms. "Why would I think that? I've done far more crazier things."

"I was a mistress," she said, looking at the wall. "I was going to destroy a family. I deserved to die."

"We all deserve to die. None of us are perfect beings." He leaned back, enjoying the warm water. "And that idiot who made you a mistress, was a pedophile. You were a minor. You didn't know what you were doing."

Addison shifted on top of him, straddling his legs. She touched his face. "But I was fully compliant."

"Of course you were. He's a predator. You fell right into his trap. Made you think that you were the one holding all the decisions and all that crap. You were a sheltered kid wanting out of that town and he gave that to you. It was like the biggest candy and you just had to get it."

The Mistress looked at his chest, wondering what was inside it. Would his heart be black? she asked herself. "What did you do, Wuming?"

"What? Last night? Make you cry in pleasure?"

She slapped his arm. "Not that. I meant… what did you do? Why did you leave your family?"

"Ah," he said. "I killed a lot of people. I had to skip town."

"Who did you kill?"

Wuming opened his eyes and sat up, facing her. "I killed a bunch of people when I was eighteen. Just right after my mom died. Did I do it out of anger of my mom's death? Yes. But did those assholes deserved it? Also yes."

"Why? What did they do?"

"They were the sons of the other smaller mafia lords. They were in charge of smuggling contrabands in this country," he said, reminiscing the memories like it was just yesterday. "We agreed on contrabands. We let them use our dump routes so they could spread their products. But one night, I was, you know, doing random checks as that was my small contribution to the family business.

"Anyway, I found out they were smuggling people too. People from other smaller countries who want to work here illegally. But, they don't make them work. They torture them and…" Wuming shivered. "You know the rest, all the evil stuff. So in one of their sessions, I came in."

Wuming could still visualise that night. Of course, he was in all black, dressed comfortable and was equipped with his then favorite dagger which had a golden hilt. He loved it because he liked the weight in his hand.

He sat on top of the wall wherein there was a huge rectangular window that offered him the view of what was going on inside the first floor of one of the hideouts. He waited patiently, chewing on a bag of ch.i.p.s. He already saw the thin frail bodies on top of the tables like they were bodies in a morgue. They were tied at the wrist, neck, stomach, and probably, legs and ankles too.

Finally, "his friends" came in. He had been invited in one these things. But when he declined the first time, they didn't invite him again. He jumped from the wall and made his way nearer the door.

He passed by people who were standing guard. They looked alarmed but when they saw that it was Wuming they all cowered away from him and bolted out the door. He pushed the door open and the first thing he noticed was the line of weapons that hung from the wall.

"What a fine collection," he said.

The people inside the room all turned to him. There were four mafia lord's sons in this room and there were seven almost dead bodies. The mere smell made Wuming want to barf.

"What a fine evening, people," he said. They were all older than him but in terms of ranking, they all lay beneath his feet.

"What are you doing here, priss?" asked the one who was already wielding a thick knife, longer than an arm.

"Oh and that face tattoo made you the tough guy?" clapped Wuming and laughed. "Oh man, that's all you have to prove that you have something that dangles between your legs."

The man nearest Wuming grabbed his collar. "What do you want, Qing?" he said the last name it was something worth to be spit out.

"Oh not much, just this."

Wuming did not waste a second. In a flash, the man was down, his throat slashed and he was miserably trying to keep it closed with his hand.

"Brother," he choked and reached out to one of the other men. But they all just stared at him.

"Who's next?" Wuming flipped the dagger. 

"Listen, man," said one from across the room. "We'll stop this, okay? We'll send these people home."

Wuming inclined his head to the side. "I don't think so." Then he his dagger flew in the air, landing square in the chest. He was dead before he hit the ground.

He beckoned for the other two. "It's a nice night to kill some people."

While he attacked one, the other tried to escape. Wuming caught him just before he left the door. In less than two minutes, he had four dead bodies around him. He leaned over to one of the metal tables and found that it was a woman, severely beaten with purple bruises on every inch of her body.

"Hey," Wuming said quietly. "Are you still alive?"

The woman opened her eyes a slit. "Are you the police?"

"No, but I'm here to help you."

"Who are you?"

"I'm the bad guy," he smiled down at her. "There are doctors on the way. Don't mind the dead people on the floor. If you want, you can slice them if you have enough energy." He slashed at the ties for all the other people. Some were too injured to get up.

Wuming suspected broken bones and will. The doctors came in and took care of them. Another set of people dragged the bodies outside, and another set cleaned the blood off the floor.

When Wuming's phone vibrated from his pocket, he already knew that it was his father. He was greeted by his booming voice. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!"

"I killed them," he said like his father just asked what he had for dinner.

"They are our friends' son."

"I didn't like them," he said. "We're bad people. They are REALLY bad people." Wuming got in his car. "You know I draw the line on the innocents."

When he came home, his father beat the crap out of him, told him he should let the air cool first. Qing Zihao didn't want to kill four mafia families. It was too much hassle. So Wuming went away.

"Being alone… it was something addicting you know? It's peaceful," he said to Addison. "Almost as if it would never end."

"But it always does," Addison replied.