"Where did you get the invitation?" Paqui asked,
"On a damn bastard." Dean said vaguely.
"Then what are you waiting for?" Rust couldn't care less about asking. He glanced at the dimming sunlight outside the car window and urged, "Go back and get it now before you can attend the club's party!"
…
The three of them marked the location of the Red Dragon Club on the map.
I drove back home, took out three invitations, and changed into a suit suitable for a formal occasion.
Dean disassembled the MP5 submachine gun into a bunch of small parts and distributed them to his companions to hide in their suits.
I also carried an m26 grenade just in case.
Paquet got a few bulletproof vests.
"We're not going to find people in a club, why do we have to carry a gun and wear this thing?" Rust struggled to put on a bulletproof vest on his thin body.
"Maybe it's the kidnapper's lair inside. To avoid being beaten into a sieve, you must be prepared to protect yourself in advance," Paquet calmly pulled the slide and checked the gun.
"Last, it's not too late to regret now." Dee flattened his collar and cuffs, raised his chin slightly, his temperament was like an unsheathed sword, and quickly put a pair of ammunition into the special leather holster at the waistband of his pants with his left hand. Box, "If you insist on joining, you may be seriously injured or even die. Do you understand?"
Rust took a deep breath, the expression on his young cheeks was as solid as steel. A life last night left him with no way out, but his voice was trembling, "Grace has taken care of me for more than ten years, this time It's my turn to do something for her, if it's too late I'm afraid I won't have the chance."
Dean handed him an M1911a1.
"Wear your own defense."
…
It was already nightfall when the three of them set off again.
Next to the steamy artificial lake, villas were lit up, and lights were lit between the residential and commercial floors, illuminating the lake with sparkling waves.
But they had no intention of admiring it. To avoid leaving any traces, they parked their car a mile away from the club, got out of the car and walked there.
Outside the club, dozens of luxury cars and sports cars such as Cadillacs, Lincolns, and Ferraris were parked in the parking spaces under the palm trees.
Obviously, the people entering the club for the dinner tonight are either rich or noble.
…
Rust was so nervous that he didn't dare to breathe.
"Relax, man," Pacquiao said. "The sky is falling and we're in front."
This reassurance seems to have worked.
The process was also extremely smooth.
The security guard's eyes behind his sunglasses glanced at the three people's golden invitations inlaid with red dragons, and then he respectfully opened the black steel glass door.
Behind the gate.
The three of them passed through a dark and narrow corridor and entered the extremely spacious and brightly lit restaurant on the first floor.
The hall is decorated in cool black, white and gray, and the center of the hall leads directly to the third floor patio.
The wooden dining tables are arranged in an orderly manner, adding a soft beauty to this spacious space.
It is surrounded by uncarved cement walls, which are rough and uneven. Water and electricity pipes are not deliberately hidden, and the building structure is clearly visible.
Exposed light bulbs hang from the ceiling to the dining table.
No one has any fancy decorations.
The entire restaurant is rugged and casual.
There were about thirty or forty guests.
And 90% of them are middle-aged and elderly white people, wearing dignified black evening gowns, full of energy, with polite smiles on their faces, chatting with their companions, and they look like successful people with good education.
Several waiters in striped vests carrying meals and wine were walking among them. It was obvious that it was not dinner time yet.
"I've seen him on TV." Rust quickly pointed to the middle-aged man holding a glass of wine at the table on his left. He had the wavy beard of the hero in Hawaiian Detective.
"That's the owner of Macy's Department Store." Paquet glanced around and named each important person, "The owner of Howell Real Estate, there are actually foreigners, the owner of the Hilton Hotel in Los Angeles... Such a remote place There are so many celebrities gathered in our private club, what’s the attraction? A herbal party?”
"You said that these rich people had a hand in the kidnapping of Grace?" Rust clenched his fists, a cold light flashing in his eyes, "Or are they the masterminds behind it?"
"Most rich people are morally corrupt," Paquet said. "But he is more like a guest. The owner of this place is more suspicious."
"Let's go." Dean noticed a guest looking towards them with a friendly smile, as if he was ready to come over and say hello.
So he quickened his pace and walked to a remote part of the restaurant.
By the way, looking at the surroundings from a God's perspective, there is only one staircase from the first floor to the second floor, and the same is true for the second and third floors.
And the building has no back door.
In addition, there are bodyguards standing in the corners of the hall, all wearing black suits, sunglasses, and armpit holsters, as if they were trained by a company.
There were a lot of bodyguards, but Dean didn't find any surveillance equipment inside the building.
…
The three of them walked to a room in the far corner of the hall. From a distance, they found several men in black standing there like door gods, with "No Visits" written all over their cold faces wearing sunglasses.
The place is too big, and the light inside is also very dark. It is difficult to see clearly from God's perspective, and it is impossible to determine whether the target is inside.
Dean pondered for a moment and looked at the stairs in the distance, "Let's go to the second and third floors first."
The second and third floors are surrounded by dozens of rooms just like a hotel. The doors are not locked and can be pushed open with a slight twist of the handle.
The three of them searched for dozens of rooms in a row and decorated them all in the same way.
There is a clean and simple wooden floor, with a yoga mat placed in the center of the floor.
The four walls are painted with some connected images.
A human figure with slender limbs, whose gender could not be identified, was wearing a tight-fitting garment that looked like it was made of cotton and hung down to the knees, with a piece of cloth draped over his shoulders. He was sitting cross-legged on the ground with his eyes closed, looking up to the sun in the sky.
Oh, it's not the sun, it's a red star.
Then this indistinguishable figure closed his eyes and began to make a series of incredible movements towards the red stars in the sky.
For example, at first, the limbs are supported on the ground like a beast, the inner legs hug each other, and finally a flexible posture of handstand is formed with the chin as a support point.
A total of seven difficult postures and several meditation postures are recorded on the mural.
This series of movements is very similar to yoga, but different and more difficult.
Dean even doubted whether normal people could do it?
"So the second floor is a yoga room?" Paquet was a little confused. Yoga is such an elegant and healthy activity, but how can such a monotonous routine attract so many rich people?
"Is it possible that these portraits are just a gimmick? In fact, they also exercise after eating," Rust raised an opinion. "It's just a two-person exercise. The women they kidnapped, including Grace, are their partners!"
"The women may be imprisoned on the third floor, let's rescue them quickly!"
Paqui's eyes lit up, "Rich people like this kind of messy and exciting gameplay!"
Dean was silent, and followed the two people to quickly check the entire second and third floors. Unfortunately, they were empty. All the rooms were yoga rooms.
Beads of sweat appeared on Rust's forehead, "Where is Grace?"
"We only have the room in the lobby that we haven't looked for," Paqui's pupils shrank and his rough face was as gloomy as water, "Grace should be in there, let's break in!"
…
At this time, there was a strange noise in the lobby on the first floor.
The three of them leaned between the high-rise guardrails and looked down.
Amidst warm cheers and applause, a middle-aged man wearing a chef's uniform appeared on the stage in front of everyone's attention.
At eight o'clock in the evening, the dinner party finally officially kicked off.
The man stood at the front of the hall, in the center of all the guests' eyes.
He is about forty years old, elegant and handsome, with short black hair mixed with a large amount of silvery white, deep and bright eyes, a clean beard around his mouth, and a spring-like smile on his face. His whole person exudes the baptism of time. After that, he matured into a masculine charm, and even the few wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and forehead were filled with stories.
But Dean on the third floor held his breath. The man was about five feet and eleven feet tall, with a well-proportioned and tall figure. Just outside the cuffs of his white kitchen clothes, his two bare arms were unusually thick, as thick as an average person's calf. The middle finger of his left hand There is a band-aid wrapped around the first knuckle, and the index finger of the right hand has obvious calluses.
He was the one who took Grace away!
Paquet and Rust, who were lying on the guardrail, also noticed these eye-catching features and their expressions brightened.
"Good evening, welcome to the Red Dragon Club, I am your old friend, Al Daris..." The man began to speak, his voice was magnetic and loud, as if he had his own loudspeaker, making everyone couldn't help but listen. Listen.
At the same time, the originally slightly dim lights in the hall also turned on, focusing on him, making him glow.
"Old rule, before the dinner begins, let's remember the old friend we lost not long ago." The chef suddenly raised his voice, his face showed sadness and respect, and the guests also looked solemn and silent.
"Leighton Stone, the darling of the Red Dragon, time cannot take away his handsomeness and wisdom. He can always make bold and profound suggestions at gatherings, lighting the way forward for us."
"He was a mentor and a friend to us, he was a great supporter of the club and his passing is a huge loss for the entire club."
"Now, let us pray silently for him, and hope that he will see the red dragon in the next cycle."
Sad and solemn voices echoed in the hall.
The chef and the guests put their hands in front of their bellies, lowered their heads and remained silent.
Dean, who was spying from a high place, felt his hair stand on end.
Thirty seconds later.
The moment of silence ends.
Al raised his head and smiled brightly.
"The deceased is gone."
"Now, I have good news to inform everyone. New friends have joined today!"
A middle-aged white couple who were fashionably dressed walked out of the crowd. They smiled and nodded to the people around them. Their eyes shone with joy and excitement, and the crowd also responded with warm applause.
Dean's pupils shrank, these two people seemed to be the retired rock star and his fifth wife last year.
Is this club really dedicated to recruiting celebrities?
"You've all gotten to know each other," Al said, looking at the two new members. "In order to welcome the newcomers, let me introduce the purpose of the club again."
"Do you two know why everyone is gathered here?"
The two newlyweds looked at each other and said with a smile,
"Taste your world-class cooking skills."
"That's just a side enjoyment." The chef shook his head, his expression became dignified, and then he raised his voice, "Our only purpose here is to find a way to reach the other side, the otherworldly world."
"In the club, the path we follow is called the 'Red Dragon'"
"What is a red dragon?"
The chef's booming voice passed through the entire hall, and his eyes scanned the crowd with lightning eyes.
"Everyone has to go through the process of birth and death repeatedly, saying goodbye to the old life and starting the next new life."
"again and again."
“Life and death are a never-ending cycle.”
“We are forever trapped and unable to break free.”
"But few people know that every time we die, part of our soul and life force will be attracted and enter the deep space of the universe, into a star called the 'Red Dragon'."
Dean, who was listening upstairs, blinked in surprise. Thinking about the mural just now, he felt more and more that this "red dragon" was the red star he saw in his daily balance meditation.
"Everyone corresponds to a red dragon."
"The red dragon represents our past countless cycles of life and death, the accumulation of countless generations of life and souls. It contains eternal power and infinite wisdom."
"Anyone who can see their own red dragon can receive the legacy left by the past, thereby breaking the limits of their body and spirit, and allowing this life to enter a higher realm of life."
"The red dragon is the key to evolution for ordinary people and the ship to the other side!"
Everyone in the hall seemed to have been brainwashed, with expressions of intoxication.
"But the red dragon is hard to find, and most people will never see it in their lifetime."
"The majority here refers to you."
A holy light appeared on the chef's handsome face, and his voice became as majestic as a priest's,
"Everyone here has a good social status, endless money, and a lot of power."
"You can easily bring heavenly bliss to ordinary people, or make them fall into hell, destroy their families, and manipulate their destiny."
"This bastard is wearing the wrong clothes," Paquet, who was on the third floor, retched rather disgustedly and whispered, "He shouldn't be wearing white clothes, he should be wearing black clothes. He is insulting the profession of chef."
"You feel disgusted," Dean shook his head, his eyes filled with murderous intent. "But those customers enjoyed it."
Most of the crowd nodded happily after hearing this, deeply agreeing with Al's speech.
Rust was silent, but his brows became tighter and tighter.
Al continued,
"But so what, your life essence is not nobler than ordinary people. On the contrary, because you are too addicted to wealth, power and vanity, you are getting further and further away from the realm of transcendence, and you will never find the red dragon."
"You will all get sick, and you will all lie in the morgue one day in a few decades. As the coffin is buried in the soil, you will forget everything and start the next cycle."
Al shook his head and sighed, his eyes suddenly lit up,
"But some ordinary people, who are poor and of low status, work hard to survive every day, but they have a strong spirit and obsession. The love and ruthlessness in their hearts are more pure."
"To a certain extent, they are more talented than you."
"Maybe one ordinary morning, when they wake up from a sweet dream, they can see the red dragon."
Al's voice slowed down and became full of enthusiasm and bewitching.
"The existence of our club is to provide everyone with such a shortcut to share the talents of this group of lucky ordinary people and gain enlightenment through eating, meditation, and digestion."
Eating and digesting?
There were about twenty elegant gentlemen in the hall. Their open ladylike smiles and friendly smiles had subtle changes in their facial expressions. Their cheeks were stained with blush, and their eyes shone with desire and enthusiasm.
What kind of evil brainwashing organization is this?
Dean and Paquet's expressions were dark, while Rust next to him stared down with a pale face, and a large goosebump appeared on the skin of the back of his neck.
"Eating is completed in this hall. We chew the ultimate emotions and become one with it. Maybe the process will make the newcomers feel a little uncomfortable."
Al's words made the two newcomers look nervous, but the other participants exchanged looks excitedly.
"But everyone goes through this process."
Al said seriously,
"You don't have to blame yourself or feel guilty. There should be no boundaries for the exploration of the soul and evolution, nor should it be restricted by secular morals and laws."
"Once you reach transcendence, all your troubles will be forgotten. All attempts are worthy of encouragement and praise."
Al shouted a slogan, raised his head, and looked at the corridors and rooms surrounding the second and third floors.
"As for digestion, in the meditation room upstairs, follow the guidelines on the murals and devote yourself to it, so that you can become purer and closer to the red dragon."
"That's almost it. Let's get into the theme of tonight. Now, I am honored to offer sacrifices to everyone. We will enjoy delicious delicacies that the entire United States, the whole world, and 99% of mortals have never tasted. "
Al clapped his hands gently, and two men in black walked through the entrance door, and locked the door with several heavy locks, locking everyone in the hall.
At the same time, a young man in a white chef's uniform from the kitchen behind him pushed a rectangular dining cart as heavy as a coffin to the center of the hall and stood quietly with his hands behind his back.
A huge stainless steel dinner plate covered it, making it difficult to see what was inside.
"It was hand-picked by me and is hard to find in the world. I put a lot of thought into keeping it in perfect condition without any unnecessary processing."
Al glanced at everyone, raised his right hand to his chest and slowly grasped the air, emphasizing every word,
"I have a request, especially for my two new friends. Please remember that when tasting, don't be swayed by appetite and simply eat. Indulge in taste, salt, sugar, starch, fat, or protein. This is an out-and-out waste and Ruined.”
"We use our hearts to experience and absorb the beauty of the ingredients, which is called the essence of thought and personality."
"In the past many gatherings, we have been fortunate enough to taste the evil, hatred, and pain of human nature. After digesting it, we can better use wisdom to deal with the enemy."
"Today, what we taste is the love in human nature..."
The chef shook his head with wonder in his eyes,
"This sacrifice gave everything for his son and voluntarily sacrificed himself for our great transcendent ritual."
Al walked towards the dinner plate, spread his hands as if to hug the companion in front of him, then raised his chin slightly, his face was filled with divine light, and his tone was as affectionate and rhythmic as reciting poetry,
"It teaches us selfless dedication and self-sacrifice for the sake of our descendants. It teaches us to become purer and closer to the great red dragon."
"So it's called eternal love—"
Alda lifted the lid of the dinner plate.
In an instant, countless eyes gathered in it.
…
"No!"
A heartbreaking wail came from the top of the hall.
The chef looked up and saw three strangers, one of whom completely collapsed and howled hysterically.
The other two people, Asians, looked at him coldly and condescendingly.
He smiled, calming the commotion of the guests,
"Everyone, we have an uninvited guest tonight."
"But don't be nervous. This is a good thing. We will have a few more desserts on our menu."
As soon as he clapped his hands, a group of bodyguards in black suits rushed to the third floor.
(End of chapter)
