Chapter 18: Bomb

"Sorry, four nines, bomb!

Paul hummed a ditty, glanced at the last card in his hand, and then looked up at the six cards held by Anatoly. A smug smile crept onto his face.

As for the Warehouse peasant holding seventeen cards, he ignored him completely.

Just as Paul was about to play a card, Anatoly played four 10s with no expression on his face.

"Bomb."

"..." Paul felt his heart skip a beat.

"Drip! Drip!"

The red light on his chest flickered, and the sound became urgent.

Suddenly, the previously despondent subordinates around him sprang to life, dropping their pork and banknotes without a word, and skillfully lay on the ground with their heads in their hands.

The person in charge of the Warehouse glared at Anatoly. Was this bomb trying to take everyone with it?

The corner of Anatoly's mouth twitched.

He hadn't expected this. He subconsciously became serious just after playing.

Looking at the remaining pair of 5s in his hand, the Anatoly reluctantly played a card.

"A piece of 5."

Paul glanced at the last card in his hand and closed his eyes in despair.

"Sorry."

Anatoly : "..."

Warehouse Manager: "..."

"Drip, drop, drop!"

The sound resounded crazily, like the crooning of Death.

The person in charge of the Warehouse hurriedly played his cards and shouted: "A 2, and then a 3!"

"A 4, I won, give money give money!"

Paul's sorrow turned to joy as he played the last card. The tense nerves of everyone relaxed.

For some reason, the person in charge of the Warehouse suddenly felt as though he had saved the world at a critical moment.

Under Paul's urging, the two little bosses silently took out the money.

Looking at the large pile of banknotes in front of Paul, the two felt exhausted. For the first time, they found losing money more difficult than winning. They feared that if Paul won by accident, his heart rate would soar to over 120.

Seemingly reminded of something, Anatoly suddenly became alarmed.

"Is this the twentieth inning?"

"Yes!" The Warehouse manager's eyes lit up.

"Well, it's almost done." Paul put away the banknotes on the table and glanced around. "It seems that their work over there is also finished. If there are no problems, then complete the fifth transaction."

The two little bosses looked at each other tacitly and said in unison: "It's a happy cooperation."

[Target meets the conditions]*10

"In that case, I should go too." Paul stood up and stretched.

Hearing his words, everyone in the Warehouse burst into ecstasy.

This lunatic is finally leaving!

The two little bosses tried their best to suppress the urge to celebrate on the spot and immediately followed Paul toward the gate.

Paul opened the iron gate and looked at the two little bosses reluctantly. "Just here, no need to see me off. Everyone had a good time tonight; I didn't expect to say goodbye so soon."

Everyone having fun?

You must be the only one having fun!

Fortunately, the people present had gradually adapted to him, and they managed to keep their expressions neutral.

Anyway, this lunatic is leaving, and they didn't care what he said.

Seeing the silent crowd, Paul comforted them: "I know you don't want me to go, but I still have to. For the sake of our acquaintance, I'll give you a gift."

As he spoke, Paul yanked off the bomb strapped to his body.

"This is a bomb I carefully designed. It's a gift for you!"

Under everyone's horrified gazes, Paul dropped the bomb at their feet.

The next moment, he turned and ran away.

"Boom!!"

A deafening explosion shattered the tranquility of the street.

Before Paul had run a few steps, a massive force from behind propelled his body into the air. He fell heavily to the ground.

After a few seconds, Paul got up, the buzzing in his head gradually subsiding. Several sharp pieces of metal dislodged from his back, falling to the ground with a crisp sound.

Paul turned to look at the Warehouse's location, now engulfed in flames with thick smoke billowing into the sky.

"So exciting."

Paul sighed and took out a controller from his pocket, revealing the real bomb switch.

The bomb that supposedly detected heartbeat frequency was all a lie.

The flashing red light and beeping sound were small devices that could be manipulated at will—merely decorations. How could they change according to heartbeat frequency?

Paul wasn't someone who could control his heartbeat. He didn't know how many times his heart had raced during the whole process. If the bomb truly detected his heartbeat frequency, he would have slipped up long ago.

It's a pity he couldn't get the 20 million...

Even if Paul threatened them with bombs, those gangsters would never hand over 20 million or the batch of goods. That was their bottom line.

Thinking of this, Paul touched his thick pocket, which held probably more than a hundred thousand.

"Fortunately, I scammed them out of some money before leaving, so it's hardly a loss."