Spy-x-War Showdown
Chapter 914 - 919: Killing the Chicken to Warn the Monkeys

Chapter 914: Chapter 919: Killing the Chicken to Warn the Monkeys

Mughal was sensible; as long as he loosened his tongue, everything that followed would be much easier to handle.

Of course, this didn’t mean that Mughal was truly willing to defect to the Organization of Water or Jethro. Unless someone was exceptionally principled or stupid enough to be utterly obtuse, they would surely show submission.

But whether he could be trusted in the future was something that would require additional measures.

Yang Yi held a thin thread in his hand that, soaked in blood, hung straight down rather than floating lightly in the air, and the line that should have been hard to detect was now clearly visible.

Mughal couldn’t take his eyes off the thread in Yang Yi’s hand.

Yang Yi walked over to Mughal and stared at him for a few moments before suddenly asking, "You want it? You want the entire Middle Eastern market? To just let Jethro supply you with the arms and then you handle the retail, are you sure?"

"Sure. I’m certainly sure. Isn’t that what the so-called Middle Eastern market is all about?"

Yang Yi pondered for a moment, and then suddenly asked, "So, what’s your asking price?"

As he spoke, Yang Yi wrapped the bloodstained thread around Mughal’s neck.

Mughal’s eyes widened, his body stiffened, and then he stammered, "Is this necessary? You really don’t need to do this, truly..."

"You haven’t answered my question. What’s your price?"

Mughal swallowed hard, the line brushing against his Adam’s apple as he moved, causing his body to shake even more violently, and then he stuttered, "Can everything remain as it is? No, no, no, I misspoke. I mean, whatever cut you say!"

"That answer is incorrect. Think again."

Mughal let out a breath and then tremulously said, "Alright! I’ve thought about it. The way it works is, the arms distributed to the Middle East depend on the source to decide everyone’s share. Typically, I take thirty percent, Barbosa takes twenty percent, and Deyo takes fifty percent. But now Barbosa is dead, right? So it’s... not, it’s Jethro who takes... seventy percent, and I only take thirty percent, is that okay?"

Indeed, Mughal was making quite the concession, but Yang Yi sighed softly, then spoke in a low voice, "I’m sorry, the answer is wrong, so..."

Yang Yi suddenly looked at Mughal’s bodyguards and then said with an air of ease, "Does anyone want to replace your boss?"

Mughal was stunned for a moment, then shouted, "Ten percent! I only want ten percent!"

Yang Yi tightened his grip on the thread and then told the bewildered bodyguards, "None of you wants to become an arms dealer? Don’t you truly understand how Mughal made his way? A very obvious fact—we decide who becomes the biggest arms dealer in the Middle East. Do you get my meaning? I need a new distributor, one not so greedy. Anyone want to give it a try?"

Finally, a middle-aged man in his forties stepped forward and said in a deep voice, "I think I can do it, sir. I know all the steps, and I can find sufficient connections. The Middle East is a seller’s market now, sir. As long as you support me, I believe I can do no worse than anybody else."

Yang Yi smiled and said, "You are correct. I’ll offer you twenty percent of the profits. It’s just that you might lack experience, and I actually plan to split the market, so regretfully, your boss has to die. Now we have someone who can pick their market first. There’s no one else who wants to try, is there?"

Another man stepped forward, his face no longer showing fear but slowly saying with confidence, "I can."

Yang Yi looked at the others and said, "It seems no one else wants to come forward. Unfortunately, you’ve made the wrong choice. You two, each grab an end of this rope, and move quickly to cut your former boss’s throat. Come here now."

Some bodyguards looked annoyed, while others appeared very scared. As they watched their two peers walk towards Mughal, Mughal shouted, "You can’t do this! You can’t do this!"

A bodyguard with a ferocious expression reached for the end of the wire that Yang Yi was holding, but just then, Yang Yi suddenly said, "Don’t fire."

Anton delivered a sudden elbow strike, shattering the throat of the bodyguard next to Yang Yi, and then he kicked up again, followed by an upward hook punch with his left fist, breaking another man’s throat.

Yang Yi let go of the thin wire and did not yank one end abruptly, but patted Mughal on the shoulder with a smile and said, "Look, I’ve helped you weed out two underlings who wanted to finish you off."

Mughal watched his two men clutching their throats, rolling on the ground, unable to speak or catch their breath. It was as though he himself couldn’t breathe, so Mughal took two deep breaths.

Yang Yi sighed, then said to Anton, "Call Jethro over. I think it’s time he had a serious talk with his distributor."

Mughal felt like he was going mad. Just a moment ago, he thought he was as good as dead, but now he was unsure again.

In another situation, Mughal could order someone’s execution more casually than Yang Yi, not caring if hundreds were shot. But when a fine, icy thread wrapped tightly around his neck, making it hard to breathe and starting to cut into his skin, that bone-deep fear made him never want to experience it again.

He didn’t even dare to think about it.

"We can’t let the traitors die too quickly; let them feel the pain a bit longer."

Looking at the two bodyguards writhing on the ground, Yang Yi said with a smile to Mughal, "Sit down, don’t be tense. We’re partners now, buddy. Relax a bit."

Anton holstered his gun. Yang Yi patted Mughal on the shoulder, then sat down on the sofa with a smile and asked indifferently, "What nationality are you?"

"Iraqi, I’m an Iraqi."

"I heard you have connections with the Americans?"

"Yes, yes. I started working for the CIA during the second Middle East conflict. I was an informant for the CIA. They promised me post-war immigration to the United States, but later they refused to let me go, claiming I had terrorist tendencies. I have many brothers, and I did a lot to help overthrow Saddam. Later, the CIA promised me a good job, and then I started moving goods for Barbosa, mainly to whoever the Americans wanted to arm. But that’s just the extent of our relationship, really, just that."

"Oh, is that so? Do you have children?"

"Yes! Yes! I have two wives, five children. One wife with four children is in the United Kingdom, and another wife with one child is in Baghdad. But I don’t mind having them live somewhere else; Iraq is too dangerous. Where do you think is suitable for them?"

Yang Yi laughed heartily and said, "It doesn’t matter where; to us, all places are the same. Alright, do you have anything to say about Nicholas and Barbosa?"