Enforcer Manual
Chapter 698 - 696: Dreams are the Opposite_1

Chapter 698: Chapter 696: Dreams are the Opposite_1

Lu Xiang found that every time he observed Song Lan, he would make new discoveries, and thus gained a deeper understanding of this "Dumb Bird’s" character traits and way of handling affairs.

Though Song Lan was close at hand, he seemed to always live in a different world, as if the matters of the United Government, Neutral Country, and Rebel Army were all irrelevant to him; this was the source of his good mentality.

However, for someone who could destroy a city whenever he wanted or assassinate any important figure in this world, the struggles of "ordinary people" could hardly move him anymore. Out of interest and professional habit, Lu Xiang decided to continue his observation work.

Perhaps one day in the future, she would compile a complete "Dumb Bird Observation Notes."

With her long-term observation experience, she judged that all Song Lan wanted to do now was lie down.

Yesterday, after they had spent a night in the bar and the entire afternoon at the office, he must have been struggling to keep his eyes open by now.

Lu Xiang bent over to take off her shoes and lay down beside Song Lan.

Her hand gently brushed over his eyes as she said softly, "Sleep."

...

Besides Song Lan, no one could get a good night’s sleep these days.

When Hog Foster received a party invitation sent by Jock, he already had very obvious dark circles under his eyes, and despite consuming a large amount of anti-fatigue medication, he was still groggy.

The workload these days wasn’t heavy; on the contrary, he had plenty of spare time. But every time he fell asleep, he would be immediately awakened by nightmares.

In his nightmares, he was in a strange place that seemed to have been completely overtaken by plants. He walked alone among the forests, but for some reason, the ferocious carnivorous plants didn’t attack him; instead, they actively cleared a path for him towards the Old Tree.

He had no idea why he kept appearing in the same nightmare, but he was very clear that he needed to go to that Old Tree, which was the center of this world.

Yet every time he tried to do so, that damned "concerned citizen" would appear in his dream, executing him with various cruel methods—without the protection of bodyguards and servants, he was just an old man with age catching up to him, with prosthetics meant for extending life and maintaining organ vitality. He could never fight a vicious terrorist on his own.

Once he died in the nightmare, the world would collapse, and he would wake up sweating profusely in bed, his mind still haunted by the strange ways he had died.

This damned "concerned citizen" wouldn’t even let him have peace in his dreams!

It seemed that after this matter was over, he had to improve his relationship with Rob Lucci, to join forces and make that dream-disturber pay.

Before leaving the house, Hog took three more anti-fatigue pills. He straightened his appearance and stepped out from his temporary residence in The First Region. The car sent by Jock had already arrived at the door.

He got into the car and activated the positioning tool of his inbuilt prosthetics, sending his location to his new ally.

Perhaps it was due to prolonged fatigue, but the quiet atmosphere in the car made Hog feel uneasy. He had expected the driver to search him before setting off, but the driver did nothing. The secrecy they displayed was much lower than he had anticipated. Yet, Hog had repeatedly heard that the Iris Consortium might be the most mysterious organization of the United Government, one that the Counter-Intelligence Department and Military Intelligence Section Seven couldn’t infiltrate.

Since things had reached this point, there was no turning back.

When he had taken an overnight flight to The First Region, he had already doomed himself to be at the center of the struggle.

Hog had no regrets because, for a politician, power was life. Even if he stayed in the Sixth District, he would soon be sidelined by people in his family. Then, what awaited him would be a dark and suffocating retirement.

The car left the bustling city area and drove up along a winding mountain road until it finally stopped in front of a palace-like building at the summit.

Is this it?

Seeing the luxury cars outside the building and those familiar faces, these two words inevitably arose in Hog’s mind.

He had thought Jock’s bodyguards would drive the car into a secret passage, navigate a labyrinthine underground tunnel for hours, completely confusing him as a passenger until he could no longer remember the way he came, eventually arriving at a place not recorded on any United Government map. There, every member would have to don a black robe to cover their faces and hide their true identities.

But the building still bore the clear insignia of the Iris Consortium; it was funded by Richard Gervis. In the past few years, almost half of The First Region’s major events had taken place here.

Such an obvious location, such an evident gathering; how on earth did the Counter-Intelligence Department and the spies from Military Intelligence Section Seven conduct their business?

As Hog got out of the car, the staff on-site were leading the bodyguards of the council members to their temporary resting area.

The bodyguards were all accustomed to this and mostly familiar with each other, following the staff while chatting and laughing.

He stood outside for a short while, and Jock’s voice came from behind him, "Hog, my friend!"

Jock seemed energetic. When he turned around, Jock opened his arms wide, wanting to give him a passionate hug as if he had completely forgotten what had happened in the office a few days ago.

Hog stepped forward, a fake smile on his face.

Then, imitating what Jock had done a few days ago, he changed the hug into a polite handshake.

Jock wasn’t bothered by this. He enthusiastically introduced Hog to the particulars of the gathering, "This is your first time at the gathering, so there are a few things to be mindful of. For confidentiality and the experience of other members, no photography or recording is allowed during the event... You wouldn’t happen to have these functions in your artificial eyes, would you?"

"Cyber 6.0."

Hog thought Jock’s questions were just a waste of words and didn’t even bother answering them; he merely stated the model of his prosthetic eyes.

Given the pace of prosthetic updates, prosthetic eyes without recording features would probably have to be sought in the antique market, "Do you want me to dig out my eye to show you?"

"Yo, Hog, what’s got you all fired up today?"

Jock laughed heartily, "I was just joking with you. We’re all respectable people here. Once the gathering starts, all you need to ensure is that these functions are shut off... After all, there have been some unpleasant incidents with intelligence agents at these parties before. I hope you understand."

On the way here, Jock had anticipated Hog’s attitude.

Among the people he knew, Hog was undoubtedly the most petty. This kind of interaction allowed Jock to temporarily let his guard down. Besides looking a bit tired, Hog was still the same old Hog, unable to move on from the unpleasantness of the other night.

If Hog had shown an overly agreeable, forcefully cheerful demeanour after meeting him, Jock would have had doubts about his true motives for becoming a member.

As they entered, the two walked one behind the other in the spacious corridor. Jock tried to walk shoulder to shoulder with Hog but found that the latter deliberately maintained a distance as if to mark his displeasure.

Silent all the way and not gracing him with a single good look.

Jock broached a new topic, "Why did you suddenly agree to become a member of the club? I remember you had a big argument with me over this before."

"Is that any of your business?"

"...I was just asking."

"The Foster family has its own intelligence network, and besides, what you’ve been doing is too obvious."

"I don’t follow."

Jock was momentarily startled, not sure whether Hog was referring to the High-level Parliament or their plot to assassinate the Chairperson of the Council.

"All the members of the High-level Parliament are from the club."

The Iris Consortium itself was no secret in high society, but apart from the members, no one knew what these high-ranking individuals did when they gathered privately.

"The prerequisite for fighting an enemy is first to have power in your own hands."

"I’m glad you’ve changed your mind."

During their conversation, the two arrived at the end of the corridor.

What appeared before Hog was not a luxurious banquet hall or a large conference room but a dimly lit storeroom filled with miscellaneous items and a strange smell lingering in the air.

The moment Jock opened the door, Hog even entertained the thought that he had been exposed, and Jock intended to silence him here.

"Don’t be nervous; every new member goes through this. You’ll get used to it," Jock reassured.

Jock stepped into the storeroom first, navigating past the clutter and standing in front of an old wardrobe at the far end of the cubicle.

The wardrobe was filled with outdated clothes that had gone out of fashion more than a decade ago, along with some neatly ironed work uniforms.

With a genial smile, Jock pulled the clothes to one side for Hog. Behind them, a creature immediately triggered Hog’s unpleasant memories—the dark green, tentacle-like plants writhing as he had seen in nightmares. Now this unknown plant clung to the inner wall of the wardrobe, menacingly baring its "teeth" at them.

The weird smell in the room emanated from the plant.

"We’ll see each other on the other side," said Jock, gesturing toward the wardrobe.

"Do you think you’re being funny?"

Hog stood his ground, glaring intently at Jock.

Hog was led all the way to this cramped, humble storeroom and expected to walk into the maw of a man-eating plant; once digested, not even his body would be found.

He, Hog Foster, wasn’t senile enough to do such a thing.

Hog prepared himself, believing he must have been exposed. If Jock made any sudden moves, he was ready to abort this infiltration mission and call Rob Lucci for rescue.

"Relax, it’s quite intelligent and can recognize the scent of those who are invited. Once you pass through it, you’ll reach the real banquet hall, a marvelous place," Jock explained.

Seeing Hog remain silent, Jock demonstratively entered the wardrobe, boldly facing the dark green plant as it waved its ’tentacles’ at him.

In an instant, the tentacles engulfed him.

It was as if he had been devoured by the carnivorous plant, and his voice could no longer be heard from the other side.

The storeroom returned to quietude. Hog stood there, hesitating for several minutes; several times, he was on the verge of turning away and leaving, yet another voice inside his head urged him on, assuring him that this was just an unusually shaped door.

If he left now, he would never have the chance to turn things around.

After a fierce internal battle, Hog finally bit the bullet, emulating Jock by climbing onto the wardrobe and cautiously approaching the dark green plant.

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