CHAPTER 115: CHAPTER 115: CAN SHE STILL KEEP HER HANDS?

Mardale.

A true global lawless territory, here, two extreme worlds are distinctly divided.

One is the wealthy district, where every night is filled with revelry and splendor, controlled tightly by a very mysterious nobleman—Mr. West. No one has seen his true face, only knowing he has immense power.

The other is the poor district, where the air is always filled with the scent of decay and despair, ruled by a gang leader named Zane Zimmerman.

Rumor has it, Zane Zimmerman is ruthless, decisive in killing, extremely brutal, and has more blood on his hands than others have consumed water.

And in Mardale, only Mr. West and Zane Zimmerman wear masks, one gold, one silver, and anyone who has seen their true faces no longer exists!

This is a paradise for gray transactions, where if you can pay the price, you can buy anything in the world you desire, including a soul.

When Stella Grant entered Mardale, it was already the next evening, stepping onto that desolate place, she instantly felt the air was filled with the scent of blood.

They stayed at an inconspicuous hotel in the wealthy district.

The room was plain, but clean and simple; there was no choice but to keep a low profile. She didn’t want to be "hung" as soon as she landed.

When entering the city, she wore a mask, pulled her hat brim low, wishing she could wrap herself like a dumpling.

Night fell, the city lights began to glow.

Stella Grant and Tom Summers sneaked into the legendary Red House.

The Red House, sounding festive, is actually Mardale’s black market for information.

Here, as long as you can afford the price, there’s no information you can’t buy.

A little boy with fiery red hair greeted them, with an unexpectedly mature gaze.

"The king covers the tiger?" The little boy tilted his head, his voice crisp.

Before Stella Grant could speak, Tom Summers stepped ahead with a cheeky smile, responding, "Mushrooms, two fifty!"

Oh wow, this code is quite down-to-earth.

The little boy pouted, clearly not satisfied with the impromptu version of the code, but still led them into a secret room.

"Alright, what do you want to know? As long as you pay, satisfaction guaranteed." A man in his sixties came out, wearing small round glasses, his suit a bit old but dignified.

Stella Grant didn’t waste words, directly pushed a photo over, which depicted a lonely white building.

"I want to find this place."

The old man looked for a while, tapping his finger on the photo.

"The water tower warehouse in Westwood Forest, to go there, you must first pass through The Rubber Plantation."

He paused, adding, "The Rubber Plantation is Mr. West’s territory, without his emblem, not even a fly can enter."

"Mr. West?" Stella Grant raised her eyebrows.

"Yes, the very god who controls the entire wealthy district, the Castle Master of Los Castle—Mr. West." There was a hint of reverence in the old man’s voice, "For outsiders like you, trying to mix in the wealthy district, without meeting Mr. West, you can’t move an inch."

"Then where can we bump into this Mr. West?" Tom Summers asked.

The old man’s eyes twinkled, "The arena reopens tomorrow, Mr. West is very likely to be there to join the excitement. You can try your luck, if he’s not there, then you’ll have to go to the auction, but the threshold for the auction is extremely high, ordinary people can’t enter."

Stella Grant took out something golden, placing it on the table, "I’d like to buy a ticket."

The old man’s gaze was stuck on the golden item, he took out a small golden token from his pocket and gave it to her.

"Take this, say you’re a friend of Old Wu, and remember to change that two fifty to three fifty."

He added, "Remember, never touch Mr. West’s body, or you’ll get your hand chopped off."

Stella Grant and Tom Summers exchanged a glance, thanked him, and left.

As they left, Tom Summers looked back; he had a feeling of eyes watching them.

Meanwhile, after a day of flying and four hours on a boat, Vivi Sterling also set foot on Mardale’s land.

She carried a black travel bag, clutching a crumpled map, followed by a man like a local guide and two burly bodyguards.

Looking prepared, alas, never waged an expedition before being captured.

Before she could find her reserved hotel, she turned a street corner, several shadows flickered, and she was swiftly kidnapped.

The travel bag fell to the ground, abandoned.

Not long after, a little beggar sneakily approached, unzipped the bag, and tossed some lipsticks, a compact powder, and a passport dismissively on the ground.

The little beggar only grabbed all the cash inside and scampered off, leaving a mess behind.

The next evening, the arena in Mardale indeed exploded with excitement, having been closed for a year, its reopening drew crowds, swarming in like a market day.

At seven in the evening, the venue was already packed.

The night’s highlight—the Man vs. Wolf Battle!

It’s said the victorious warrior would not only get a million-dollar prize but also a residence permit in the wealthy district, plus a gorgeous beauty as a bonus.

On the field, five burly warriors were eager, their eyes full of desire.

Stella Grant squeezed through the crowd, scanning the VIP seats like a radar, but didn’t spot even a shadow of Mr. West. But she saw a man wearing a silver mask seated in another VIP section.

The man exuded nobility and grandeur, surrounded by a few bodyguards; if it wasn’t for his strong presence, she almost mistook him for Number Seventeen.

Yes, the very boxer Vivi Sterling often watched. Due to their vastly different statuses, she hadn’t dared to connect the two.

"What a wasted trip," she felt somewhat annoyed.

Just then, a tall man brushed past her, he carried a woman on his shoulder.

The woman wore a gold dress, her hair and face were covered, obscuring her appearance, but her large watery eyes and slender, fair wrists were revealed. Clearly, she was a beauty.

The beauty, upon seeing Stella Grant, struggled violently, her terrified eyes fixed on her, making "mmm-mmm" sounds as if trying to shout but unable to.

That look was filled with despair and a plea for help.

Stella Grant felt a chill in her heart.

"Stella!" Tom Summers rushed over, panting, "I found out! Mr. West isn’t here; someone saw him at the auction!"

Stella Grant immediately turned around: "Let’s go!"

"Mmm-mmm!" The beautiful woman watched her leaving back in despair, tears rolling down.

The party was held in a luxurious villa, filled with the scent of perfume and bustling with activity.

Stella Grant changed into a modest light blue gown and blended in.

Soon, she locked onto a man wearing a golden mask.

The man stood alone in a corner, his extraordinary aura and perfect inverted triangle physique unmistakable even with the mask.

Before she could speak, she saw a woman being escorted out by two bodyguards, screaming, "Mr. West, I’m sorry, please forgive me, I won’t dare next time."

The onlookers whispered, "This woman is really audacious, daring to touch Mr. West’s hand—looks like she won’t keep her hands."

"Mr. West also said no one should wear blue, and here comes another fearless one."

Everyone looked at the color of Stella Grant’s gown, worried for her.

Stella Grant paused for a moment, thinking how perverse Mr. West must be to even forbid the color blue?

But right now, she didn’t have time to change her dress. She took a deep breath and walked over, "Mr. West?"

The man turned his head at the sound, his eyes behind the mask as cold as ice.

He raised one finger, making a forward beckoning gesture, and two bodyguards moved forward, with everyone waiting to see the woman’s fate.

Unexpectedly, the two bodyguards brought over a golden chair and set it beside Stella Grant.

"Beautiful lady, please sit!" Mr. West’s voice was magnetic and gentle, not like someone who had just been enraged.

The crowd: "..."

Unable to fathom, they quickly dispersed, and two bodyguards stood three meters away, creating a private space for them.

"Thank you!" Stella Grant nodded and sat down nervously, then got straight to the point, "Hello, Mr. West, I’m Miss NOVA, and I need a favor from you!"

"One moment!" Mr. West signaled, and two waiters promptly brought over a square table. Next, a line of chefs appeared and arranged delicious dishes on the table—leg of lamb, beef steak, soup, bread... and a candelabra was lit.

Stella Grant was slightly stunned by the scene.

Mr. West raised his glass of red wine, "May I have the honor of Miss NOVA joining me for dinner?"

"Uh, I’d be honored!" She nodded, raising her glass.

"Clink!" The crisp sound rang out as she reluctantly took a sip.

Mr. West elegantly cut the steak and chewed it gently, noticing she hadn’t started. "Miss NOVA, is my dinner not to your liking?"

"Oh, not at all." Stella Grant quickly picked up the fork and knife, realizing she was indeed hungry, and took a bite of the steak—it was tender.

Mr. West thoughtfully cut some lamb and placed it on her plate. Stella Grant chewed with countless questions, wondering if she had the wrong person—is this the legendary demon?

After eating for a while, Mr. West waited until Stella Grant had mostly finished before speaking slowly.

"I’m curious what Miss NOVA seeks from me?"

Stella Grant wiped her mouth and got straight to the point, "I want to borrow Mr. West’s badge."

The man curved his lips into a playful smile, his voice deep and pleasant yet carrying an undeniable pressure: "You can, but you’ll need to trade something."

"What?"

"Two things." The man extended two fingers, "First, your body. Second, your soul."

Stella Grant froze, "What does Mr. West mean by soul?"

The man’s cold, steely eyes locked onto her, "Three years of servitude, at my disposal."

Stella Grant found this man to be rather arrogant, but in someone else’s territory, she dared not confront him head-on.

"Sorry, I’m not trading either of those things. Thank you for the dinner, but I must take my leave!"

She stood up to leave.

Mr. West seemed to see through her thoughts and chuckled lightly:

"Miss NOVA, aren’t you aware that your face carries a bounty worth fortunes? Standing here, you’re like a moving target, attracting everyone’s attention."

With that, he took a simple gold silk mask from his pocket and put it on her without a word, covering most of her face.

Instantly, it matched his own, like a couple’s set.

His warm fingertips inadvertently brushed against her cheek, "You should first learn how to survive in Mardale!"

Stella Grant took a step back, "Mr. West, do you know me?"

"Of course. I was just about to invite Miss NOVA to visit the castle." His tone was assertive, reaching out to pull her closer.

Stella Grant suddenly pushed him, swiftly and secretly snatching something from him in the process.

"Mr. West, I’ll consider it carefully, excuse me." She feigned composure and turned to leave.

"Miss NOVA, bold move!" He grabbed her small hand, peeling open her palm to reveal a small, exquisite golden badge.

Drat! Stella Grant’s face turned pale—could her hands still be kept?

Four bodyguards quickly gathered around...