CHAPTER 41: CHAPTER 41: THE COUNTERATTACK

Virel woke up amidst a wave of intense pain.

But he felt no joy in being alive, only fear, not of the torture he might endure.

Throughout his long life, countless hardships and perils had passed over his body. The only fear he had was causing trouble for the young master, for the Bolita Clan.

Fortunately, he immediately heard a familiar voice in his ear.

"Bear the pain, there’s no anesthesia here."

It was the young master’s voice.

Safe.

Virel relaxed instantly, but the pain spread throughout his body with doubled intensity.

He gritted his teeth and did not cry out, though his muscles continued to spasm uncontrollably.

"Good job, Virel, I’m proud of you." Ethan held Virel’s hand.

He had already learned everything about today’s events from the gunmen who had returned.

If it weren’t for Virel, not only would he lose a large shipment and a new channel, but also the new force the family had painstakingly established would once again be completely wiped out.

Virel had effectively saved the Bolita family once more.

This old retainer left to him by his father was far more reliable than he had imagined.

"Young master, I didn’t collect the money first. I let them take the liquor away first." Virel said with some shame, enduring the pain.

"Virel, are you trying to shame me? You’ve done the best, including the money. That was the best arrangement. Fatty Sindore took my goods; does he really dare not pay? No one else could have done better than you. Take a good rest. You deserve it. How about a drink?"

Ethan patted his hand and poured a glass of wine, bringing it over.

Virel nodded, took a sip, and felt some of the pain fade.

"Young master, how did I get back? Wasn’t I supposed to..."

Theoretically, he should be dead.

Even if he wasn’t blown up, he should have been tortured to death by Lewis.

"Anya arrived."

Ethan had been a bit uneasy this morning, difficult to say whether it was intuition or something else.

So after estimating when Virel set out, he had Anya follow to check things out, just in case.

And something did happen.

Though she didn’t catch up in time, by the time Anya arrived, Virel’s car had already exploded.

But Virel was still alive, though severely injured and unconscious.

Anya used a gun to fend off Lewis and took Virel with her.

Originally, she intended to take Virel to the city, as the Bolita family naturally had their own underground doctors.

But Virel’s injuries were too severe, especially his leg. Without immediate amputation, he would likely bleed to death.

So Anya could only bring him back to Bolita Manor as quickly as possible.

Now, they were in an emergency treatment room in the basement of Bolita Manor.

It was rarely used, but that didn’t mean it would never be, like today.

Anya had studied emergency treatment; she was Virel’s most outstanding student: assassination, shooting, combat, first aid, even clerical work — she mastered it all.

It’s just that amputation was a bit too professional, and she did it somewhat roughly, but fortunately, it was completed.

Virel’s wound had already been bandaged.

Now, she was treating the burns on his body.

These injuries were relatively better, not fatal.

Virel finished the drink and smoked a cigarette, calming down completely.

Then he saw his empty left foot.

The whole thing had been cut off.

He was visibly a bit disoriented.

"I’ll have the best cane made for you." Ethan saw his leg and could only say this.

"Thank you, young master. I’ll like it very much." Virel managed a feeble smile.

The two were just about to continue talking when a bell rang outside the room, signaling something occurring aboveground, conveyed through a mechanism.

"Anya, watch Virel, I’ll go up and take a look."

Ethan patted Virel on the shoulder once more, then passed through a passageway to make his way aboveground.

Once aboveground, a family guard spoke anxiously: "Young master, there’s a group of people trying to force their way into the manor, claiming to be Prohibition Agents, and we’re almost unable to hold them back."

Ethan frowned and said, "I see. Keep holding them off; I’ll come out immediately."

He needed to make a phone call first.

At this moment, at the entrance of the Bolita family’s manor.

Lewis stood at the gate, still wearing a coat soaked with blood, gunpowder, and rain, staring murderously at everything before him.

"I’m saying this one last time, we are Prohibition Agents, and we suspect your involvement in a bootlegging case. We have the right to search your manor and do anything. Don’t force me to act. If you die, it will be in vain."

In front of him, many guns were pointed at him.

But he didn’t fear them at all. In fact, he provocatively looked at everyone as if daring them to shoot.

"I’m going to count to five. If you don’t make way, I will act. Five, four..."

"Well, who is making such a show of bravado? Ah, Inspector Lewis, so that’s it. What’s got you so worked up?"

Just then, Ethan finally emerged from the house, along with Anya, called up, holding an umbrella, walking to the gate together.

"Ethan, you finally came out. I thought you’d run off."

Lewis gazed fiercely at Ethan, unashamedly revealing his alchemically crafted prosthetic limb.

"Why would I run? This is my home. But I ought to ask you, Inspector Lewis, oh no, I recall you were removed from the Security Office. Why are you causing a scene at my doorstep?"

Ethan calmly stood with his arms crossed, looking at Lewis.

"Don’t play dumb with me. You know my identity well. I also know that old bastard Virel is in your manor. Surprise, I’m here!"

Lewis stepped forward.

Instantly, the guns that had only been loosely aimed at him locked on, triggers now ready to fire.

"Shoot, order your men to shoot, do you dare? I’m a Prohibition Agent; the council has passed the law. Any case related to bootlegging can be investigated by Prohibition Agents. Resist, and things will only get worse."

"Shoot!" Lewis almost manically roared.

"Take one more step, and I’ll shoot."

When tension was at its peak, someone behind Lewis’s group spoke up.

Lewis’s momentum halted, and he turned to see someone unexpected.

Bob Older.

"What are you doing here, you second-rate lawyer?"

"I’m here, of course, to protect my client, ensuring his sacred and inviolable rights are smoothly exercised."

Bob Older smoothed back his slightly rain-dampened hair and stood beside Ethan.