Chapter 2: Clean up and leave home

Wesley Lu glanced at the time, he had an assassination task later that night.
He opened the drawer of the tea table and took out a divorce agreement, throwing it along with a pen onto Bertha Luo.
"I've prepared a divorce agreement too. Sign it quickly, and then scram."
Bertha, holding her swollen cheek with one hand, opened the agreement with the other. Her eyes were filled with unwillingness as she read the contents.
Her mother, also holding her face, peeked over and erupted in anger, "Why should Bertha leave with nothing?"
"Because she's despicable. You know what that means? It means worthless... Most importantly, my fist is harder than your mouth. Believe it?"
She looked fearfully at Wesley, wanting to throw a tantrum.
Wesley, reading her intentions, casually picked up a fruit knife from the basket on the tea table and stabbed an apple, sneering, "If you dare scream or throw a tantrum, I'll cut off your tongue."
Her shivering intensified under Wesley's icy gaze. Stammering, she threatened, "Don’t scare me, I'll sue you for assault."
"Go ahead. If you dare sue me, I'll run over your son with my car, set your house on fire, desecrate your ancestral grave, and spread rumors that your bad breath is because you eat feces at night, and that your daughter is unfaithful..."
"I didn't! You're slandering me, I can sue you for defamation."
"Sure, it's slander, but so what? Do you think anyone cares about the truth? People only believe what they want... In this era of entertainment, you might even become famous, an internet sensation. I've even thought of a name for you: 'The Stink Beetle's Wretched Life.'"
Suddenly, Wesley's expression changed drastically, his eyes turning cold. He stabbed the fruit knife into the tea table with force, piercing the marble surface.
Everyone shivered in fear, turning pale.
Wesley's emotionless gaze fell on Bertha, "My patience is limited. If you don't sign now, I'll make your brother a useless cripple."
"Don't doubt my words, or you'll regret it."
After all her scheming, Bertha was getting nothing. She shivered uncontrollably, feeling a bone-chilling coldness from Wesley's terrifying gaze, which didn't seem to see her as a living being.
Frightened, she quickly signed her name on the agreement.
Wesley took the agreement, glanced over it, "Tomorrow morning, 10 AM, at the Civil Affairs Bureau. We'll get the divorce certificate... Now, immediately, get out."
The group, covering their faces or heads, stumbled towards the door in haste.
"Bertha Luo."
Wesley suddenly spoke.
Bertha stiffened, turning back in fear.
Wesley's lips curled in a mocking sneer, but after a moment, he simply said, "Leave."
He had wanted to tell Bertha that he was indeed wealthy, with the house and car fully paid for.
He hadn't told her not because he distrusted her, but because she had once said she wasn't with him for money and despised the wealthy. He had believed her then, but now realized it was all part of her strategy.
Wesley had thought about revealing the truth to shame her but decided against it, considering the divorce certificate wasn't yet in hand... He'd tell her after the divorce.
"Elder Luo, look at your offspring, just like you, of poor breed... Tricked by you fifteen years ago, and by your granddaughter now. Do I owe your family?"
Muttering to himself, Wesley checked the time, gathered his emotions, and left.
At the entrance of the housing complex, a shabby Jinbei van was parked in the shadows.
Wesley hopped into the van, which started moving.
The driver, a lean-faced, sharp-eyed middle-aged man, looked unremarkable but was an S-class assassin, nicknamed Awn.
Assassins were ranked from D to S, with S being renowned. Wesley was an SSS-class, a legendary figure in the assassin world.
The team for this mission included Awn, two A-class assassins named Sickle and Shadow, and Wesley, known as Dragon in the assassin circle.
Dragon was a nickname given by Elder Luo, which Wesley initially disliked, but he now understood its meaning. Elder Luo, despite his faults, had cultivated a group of top assassins, the "Dark Chinese Zodiac," and left them to Wesley.
"You're a minute late, Dragon," said the co-driver, a tall, blonde, blue-eyed American named Hardys, also an SSS-class assassin and the mission leader.
Wesley hummed in response, warning, "I'm in a bad mood today, don't provoke me."
Hardys, often clashing with Wesley, coldly laughed, "Deduct a million."
Suddenly, a blade flashed.
Hardys froze, his gun-hand loosening as he raised his arms. A razor-sharp throwing knife pressed against his throat, its icy touch making his skin crawl.
Sickle and Shadow instinctively moved to help, but they found their sleeves pinned to the seat by throwing knives.
"If you provoke me again, I'll deal with you before the target," warned Wesley, retrieving his knives.
His throwing knives were sharp and thin, resembling willow leaves.
Hardys's face darkened, but he didn't dare challenge Wesley again, knowing he couldn't outdraw him in the confined space. But he silently vowed revenge.
Wesley turned to Sickle and Shadow, who handed him the knives, their faces pale and fearful.
He sighed and closed his eyes to rest.
Half an hour later, the van stopped on a mountain road leading to Wangjiang Mountain.
Wangjiang Mountain, a wealthy area of Flame City, housed the rich and powerful. Wesley wondered why the wealthy chose such inconvenient locations.
As the night deepened, two cars approached from below.
"They're here... Remember, the target is a woman. We need her alive," Hardys commanded.
Wesley raised an eyebrow, sensing more to this mission than a simple assassination.
"Dragon, what are you waiting for?"
Hardys and the others were ready, but Wesley remained relaxed.
"How many guards?" asked Wesley.
"Four bodyguards. Eliminate them."
"Just four? You're enough for that... I'll act if needed."
For Wesley, such a low-level assassination was uninteresting.
Hardys's eyes gleamed dangerously, "Don't you want your payment?"
"If a penny is missing from my share, I'll take your lives."