Chapter 636: 540 Obviously. April Fool’s Day has long passed. Suppressing his shock, Mole shook his head and said, "This is impossible. No assassin organization in the world would take on this task. No matter how much money you offer, it won’t work. These are the rules." He tried to find loopholes in the other party’s words, reluctant to believe it’s true. Because, unless a nation-level power steps in, and it has to be one of the great powers, or all the organizations of the assassin world unite to act against them. Otherwise, the other side’s wishful thinking would not succeed. And in either of these situations. They weren’t applicable to the other side. The fighter smiled, shook his head and said, "Mr. Mole, these are just trash fish. We don’t need them. We have found the right person to do the job. In less than three days, the task should be completed. You guys are lucky not to be on the elimination list." Given that the man didn’t appear to be joking, Mole found it hard to believe, but he needed evidence. Information was closed off now and no one could confirm if what the fighter said was true. What he was concerned about was another matter. "Can we get out of here?" Mole asked, frowning. "Possibly, but only if you can prove your worth and the necessity to leave. Otherwise, living here is not so bad. You’re not a fan of risks, are you?" the fighter replied. "Heh, you really seem to understand me." Mole gave a bitter smile. He recalled the personality analysis he’d just heard -- the feeling of having even his thoughts exposed was extremely uncomfortable to him. He was a rational and intelligent man, especially sensitive to these things. "Knowing the enemy is more important than knowing yourself, if you want to survive long. Now, Mr. Mole, please make your choice, cooperate or we use measures," the fighter laughed. The mention of using measures was so friendly that it sent a chill down Mole’s spine. This was a scary man. After a thought, Mole asked curiously, "Would you use the same approach with everyone else?" "No, you’re a smart man so we use smart methods with you. Others, except for Flying Fish, are not smart people but ruthless ones," the soldier told the truth. Why did he have to waste so much time bickering with Mole? Simply because Mole was someone who could be persuaded rationally. This was a basic quality for being a team leader: rationality, judgement, cost-benefit analysis, understanding of the situation. Without these skills, a team leader would be lost in the river of history and wouldn’t live long. Mole had never thought of this. The qualities that made for a good team leader seemed so annoying. Yes, he was indeed rational as the fighter described, added with his personality, he had no idea of resisting now. But he couldn’t lose his dignity. After a moment of silence, Mole said with determination, "I agree, but your victory this time wasn’t convincing. Let me fight one-on-one with the one who took the cheap shot. If I lose, I will tell you everything." As a man, being taken down by a cheap shot was not something he could accept. The fighter said, "Mr. Mole, he has already left. However, we can spar a bit." Mole was taken aback. "You? Aren’t you a civilian?" With Mole’s estimation, this man’s negotiation and persuasion capabilities didn’t seem like those of a frontline soldier, but more like a negotiation expert. "In a place like this, there’s no such thing as a dedicated civilian. I’m about as strong as the one who caught you. I can substitute for him. If you win, I won’t ask any questions," the soldier replied with a smile. "Right, let’s get started." Mole thought it made sense. Civilian? Even civilians need to learn to fight right? If its a fair fight, that’s enough. He needed one last excuse to convince himself. In a man’s way. Not to mention the stakes were good. If he won, he could at least protect his savings. Even though he might not spend it in this lifetime, even in death, it was his reassurance. With food in his pocket, there’s no panic in his heart. This was his habit. Mole walked to the side of the open space and made a combat pose. The tables and chairs here were all welded to the ground, so they couldn’t be used as weapons. His fists were the only weapon he had. The fighter stood up and walked to the opposite side of Mole. "Please make your move." Soldiers these days are more and more gentlemanly. Why? Because they have learned some basic etiquette and expression training at the Skill Training Center. However, they can’t be spies, because the training costs could manufacture a new spy robot. Before he finished speaking. Mole stopped the small talk. "Ha..." Mole stepped forward, shouted, and threw a punch at the soldier. This punch. He used all his might. Against the opponent, he was ruthless. This was respect for the opponent. Facing the oncoming fist, the fighter still had a smile. When the fist was less than ten centimeters away from his face, he moved. His right hand moved at a speed that was hard to catch, as fast as lightning. "Smack." With one slap, he deflected Mole’s hand. After that, the soldier moved at a speed that Mole could not see, sidestepped, took a step back, swept his leg, and kicked Mole in the chest, sending him flying. "Bang..." "Hiss..." Mole’s body hit the ground, and he felt the pain in his chest, gasping for a breath. He felt like his stomach was turning. At this moment, Mole’s eyes were a bit dazed. Was he defeated like that? No, he must have let his guard down. Definitely, it wouldn’t happen next time. Thus, Mole got up again. "Again..." he shouted, charging at the soldier again. "Bang..." "Ahh..." "Cough, cough..." "Hiss..." A few minutes later. Mole was once again on the ground, gasping for breath. He was in pain and seemed to be unable to stand up. His attacks, time and again. Every skill he had poured his soul into learning. All it got him were instant kills. He could hardly accept this. He was very aware of his strength, specializing in various killing techniques. Even when fighting against the most elite Special Forces from different countries, he was left with no hope after his encounter with a ’civilian’ before him. He could not accept it in any way. But that was the reality. The other always broke his every move with his speed and tricky attack angles, followed by one hit. From the start to the finish, he never even touched the other’s clothes. He had really lost. And he had lost badly. Compared to him, the person on the other side was truly ruthless. Speed is the best strategy, this phrase that he had heard somewhere before once again echoed in his mind. Speed was indeed an unbeatable advantage. Bearing the pain. Mole struggled to stand up. Looking at the soldier still smiling in front of him, after a few seconds, he finally said, "I lost. Ask whatever you want to know." You wouldn’t know despair unless you really tried. He now understood it. "Thanks for your cooperation." Then. Mole was entirely forthcoming. Even assassins respected the strong. Now that his cards were all exposed, he truly believed the other side was set to annihilate the three assassin organizations. Whether it was determination or strength, he believed it now. Because the other side simply didn’t need to lie to him. Thinking that the three assassin organizations would all be wiped out by Ling, and that his deposits could become commissions, Mole felt incredibly ironic. The money he had made from ’Venomous Python’ had now become the organization’s funeral expenses. Ha-ha. Life really is a drama. He wondered who Ling had employed for this task, or perhaps Ling was a puppet, an ambassador of a powerful force? To this point, Mole felt the more he thought about it, the more likely it was. He was not a fool, this possibility was not nonexistent, and it was big. However. Now it’s all none of his business. He was just a mere prisoner. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢 Over half an hour later. The interrogation ended. Mole had confessed everything. Indeed, quite a few pieces of valuable information were revealed. In addition to his nearly 10 million dollars deposit, they had made a decent profit. "Mr. Mole, thank you for your cooperation. Please adhere to the Rules and Regulations here in the future." The soldier stood up and reached out his hand. Mole also reached out his hand, smiling bitterly as he shook hands with the soldier. This feeling. It felt like a business had been concluded. It did somewhat. The other side had earned about 10 million dollars, while he had become a beggar. Of course, he wasn’t quite a beggar, as the other party was only interested in cash. He still had real estate and valuables worth over a million dollars, which the other party was not interested in. It could be seen as some consolation. "Okay, thank you for your future guidance." Mole said with a bitter smile. Just a few hours ago, he was still a free assassin. Now he had become a prisoner. Life had taken such a swift turn, eclipsing any mental preparation he could have had. "Please follow me," the soldier said. The soldier walked out as he spoke, with Mole hastily following. Then. After a few turns. Under the leadership of this soldier, Mole arrived at the changing room. "Mr. Mole, go ahead and take a nice shower, change into this outfit, your serial number is 37, and you’ll live in room 37." The soldier handed him two sets of prison uniforms, with undershirt, outer garment, and shoes, all included. Looking at the soldier beside him. Looking at the prison uniform in his hand. Considering his future life. Mole sighed, turned around and went in to take a shower and change his clothes. After the shower. Once the clothes had been changed. And the hair shaved. Mole was taken to the prison at the very basement by the soldier. Only now did Mole truly realize that there really weren’t many guards here. This man seemed to be doing everything. However, when he thought about his strength. It was already enough for him. The guy before him was a real one-man-army, and it was obvious that he had not used his full strength before. Otherwise, one move would have definitely killed him. Although the soldier had his back towards him. He still didn’t dare to think of attacking him. In the basement, he finally saw his other ’inmates’. As they passed by each cell, Mole noticed the unusual glint in their eyes. It wasn’t the expected defiance or despair, but rather curiosity and hope, without any sign of brutality. Are they going to make me pick up some soap? At that thought. Mole felt a chill run through him, ignoring everything else and following the soldier with only forward gaze. In his mind, he thought, damn it, see who dares, I’ll castrate him!