RBCT Chapter 120 Who Will Be the Bait?
Chapter 120 Who Will Be the Bait?
Chapter 120 Who Will Be the Bait?
The air in the conference room seemed to freeze for a moment, with only the clock on the wall still ticking away, each tick striking Parker Gordy's heart.
The old man's face turned deathly pale at a visible speed, the fat on his cheeks trembled, and his eyes, which had been shining with longing for money, were now filled with terror.
"Extremists? Are you the target?"
He was like a salted fish that had been exposed to the scorching sun in the desert for three days, opening his mouth but unable to make a sound.
Zi Guang shifted back and forth between Qin Han and the pitch-black night outside the window, filled with doubt and unease, as if a masked thug wielding a submachine gun might leap out of the glass window at any moment.
"Mr. Qin, you—you're not joking, are you?" Swallowing hard, Parker forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. "We're just discussing business—how did this get dragged into a terrorist attack?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Qin Han sat steadily in the chair, his expression still utterly calm. "Parker, tomorrow morning, Lorna's press release will be all over America."
Parker finally lost his grip on the cigarette, and it fell onto the carpet with a "thud," burning a black hole in it.
"Then—then wouldn't I be in danger too?" His voice trembled. "If I cooperate with you, won't those lunatics think I'm—also an accomplice?"
"God, I want to live a few more years. I just bought a yacht, and I haven't even had a chance to go out to sea yet—"
In that instant, the instinct for survival was about to overwhelm the desire for money. Parker even considered immediately calling security to throw this plague out, and then buying a plane ticket overnight to fly to Switzerland to hide for a few months.
But the old man stubbornly held back.
Danger is everywhere. In this world, if you want to make big money, there's no way you can do it without taking risks.
Since the other party dared to tell me this so openly, there must be more to it! Otherwise, he could have avoided the topic altogether, why bring it up deliberately?
"But, Parker, have you considered another possibility?" Sure enough, he waited for Qin Han to continue speaking.
"What—what's possible?"
"Think about it, while the whole of America is terrified of those lurking ghosts, we're holding a high-profile no-holds-barred fighting tournament. We declare this a stage for the strong, a forbidden ground for cowards."
"This event will become a stage where you can go down in history!" Qin Han walked up to Parker, staring into his eyes. "If we handle it properly, the UFC, from its very first day, has been inextricably linked with words like 'justice,' 'courage,' and 'anti-terrorism'!"
"All patriots and passionate young people will support us. The show's ratings will explode, and your name will be etched in sports history textbooks along with this octagon."
Justice? Counter-terrorism?
These grand vocabulary words acted like a powerful stimulant, piercing deep into Parker's veins.
As a media professional, he was all too aware of the terrifying amount of traffic and revenue that this "politically correct" narrative angle could generate.
If he succeeds, he'll be a civilian hero fighting terrorists! The resulting influx of US dollars would probably be more than enough to fill the yacht he just bought.
As an American, what could be more tempting?
The fire of greed reignited in Parker's eyes, but the embers of reason still made a last-ditch effort: "But what's the use of money if I'm dead? Those Japanese have guns!"
"That's why I'm sitting here, chatting with you calmly." Qin Han's lips curled into a confident smile. "You've seen my skills in the ring. But my trump cards go far beyond just these two fists."
"I have assembled a professional security team—you could even call it a small army. In addition to them, my friends at the Pentagon will also be providing covert support."
"If those Japanese dare to show their faces at the press conference, I guarantee they won't even have a chance to pull the trigger."
Parker looked at the young Asian man.
That composure that emanated from his very bones, along with the murderous intent—made him feel that this person in front of him was more terrifying, and also more—reliable, than those extremists.
Fortune favors the bold! He gritted his teeth, and his gambler's mentality finally prevailed.
"Let's do it!"
The old man slapped his thigh, his face revealing a desperate, fanatical fervor: "Mr. Qin, since you've put it this way, if I still back down, I don't deserve to be in the Los Angeles media circle!"
Qin Han reached out and gently patted Parker's trembling shoulder: "Congratulations, from this moment on, you're one of us."
"How can I help?" Now that he was on board, Pike immediately got into character and began to offer advice for this "great cause".
Qin Han took his plan and started making changes to it: "First, we need to hold a grand UFC launch event to create momentum so that we can lure out those Japanese people."
"It can't be one of those stadiums with easy access in all directions, that would be difficult to control. I need a place that's easy to defend, not easy to be sniped at, and can excite the audience."
Parker frowned, frantically racking his brains to recall if there was a suitable place in all of Los Angeles.
"Easy to defend—not easy to snipe—" he muttered to himself, then his eyes lit up: "I've got it! There's an old warehouse in the Long Beach port area!"
"That was used to store military supplies during World War II. The walls are extremely thick, even able to withstand artillery fire! There's only one main gate and two side gates, surrounded by container yards, with no high vantage points for snipers!"
"That place later became a base for underground boxing matches, and it was vacant after it was shut down. I have connections; I can rent it!"
"A warehouse that can withstand artillery fire?" Qin Han nodded in satisfaction: "Very good, this kind of place is the best home for Octagon."
"Rent that warehouse, and then spread the word—the UFC will be born there."
As I left the radio station building, the night breeze carried a slight chill.
The car drove through the bustling Hollywood Boulevard toward the Sheraton Hotel.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Luo Na looked at Qin Han, who was driving, with a smile in her eyes: "Qin, you actually managed to fool a cowardly old man into becoming an anti-terrorism fighter. You're really something."
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"If it were just a ploy, the old man wouldn't have agreed at all," Qin Han replied, one hand on the steering wheel. "Ultimately, it's all about profit. He wants money and fame, and I want those Japanese dead. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement."
That being said, he wasn't as relaxed as he appeared.
The plan was perfect, but its execution was like walking on thin ice: the Japanese suicide squad had lost their support, and these beasts driven to the brink of despair are often the most dangerous.
Back at the hotel, the elevator went directly to the executive floor.
Pushing open the suite door, a faint smell of traditional Chinese medicine for bruises and sprains filled the air.
Bruce Lee, wearing a white vest, is doing one-handed push-ups on the carpet.
Hearing the door open, he didn't stop. He continued until he finished the last set of one hundred reps, then nimbly flipped over and jumped up, grabbing a towel to wipe his sweat.
"You're back?" Bruce Lee's voice was somewhat somber, clearly indicating that the "confinement" of the past few days had left this true dragon feeling rather stifled.
"Master, good news." Qin Han poured a glass of water for each of them and drank it all in one gulp: "The fishing hooks have been set."
He explained the UFC's plan in detail, including the strategy of using the press conference to lure out the enemy.
Bruce Lee listened very attentively, and when he heard "octagon" and "unrestricted fighting," he couldn't help but throw a couple of punches.
"Great! This octagon idea is fantastic! This is real fighting, without all those fancy rules, just pure confrontation!" Bruce Lee exclaimed excitedly. "Ah Han, you really understand me! I absolutely have to attend this press conference."
"That's right, this competition is a great way to promote Jeet Kune Do, but—" Qin Han put down his water glass, his expression becoming unusually serious: "Master, although we have the fishhook, we need to discuss who will be the bait on the hook."
"What do you mean?" Bruce Lee raised an eyebrow.
"Although the press conference venue is easy to control, there's always a risk of stray bullets if those Japanese guys bring guns." Qin Han looked directly into his master's eyes. "My suggestion is to find a body double with a similar build to you before the press conference. Have him wear those sunglasses and your clothes, and sit on the stage. You just need to speak from backstage through a microphone, or have your voice pre-recorded."
"When the time comes, I'll have my security team and Bill's men lying in ambush around the area. As soon as those guys show their faces, we'll immediately move in."
Bruce Lee's face darkened.
He slammed the towel he was holding onto the sofa, his face, which had been flushed with excitement, now as cold as ice.
"A stand-in?" He sneered, his arrogant eyes flashing with anger. "Ah Han, what do you take me for? A porcelain doll that needs to be protected in a glass case?"
"Hiding in this hotel is already my limit! Now, you want me to hide behind the scenes like a coward at a press conference for this kind of event, and find an innocent person to shield me from danger?"
"Master! This is not the time to show off!" Qin Han emphasized, "This isn't a martial arts contest, it's war! In war, protecting the commander-in-chief is always the top priority!"
"You can't use such despicable methods!" Bruce Lee took a sudden step forward, staring intently at Qin Han. "In my life, Bruce Lee has always acted with integrity, even in defeat. You expect me to trade someone else's life for my own? I can't do that!"
"If those Japanese want to come, then let them come! I'll sit right in the center of the stage and wait for them!"
Looking at the stubborn man before him, Qin Han felt both resentful and utterly helpless.
This is Bruce Lee, the unyielding martial artist: his pride did not allow him to bow his head, much less to back down.
That's why, in his past life, he offended too many people because of this personality, and ultimately fell like a shooting star.
In this generation, Qin and Han will never allow the tragedy to repeat itself.
Taking a deep breath, the hardness in Qin Han's eyes slowly softened. He knew that a direct confrontation was useless; he could only outsmart the opponent.
"Alright, Master." Qin Han raised his hands in a gesture of surrender: "You're right, I was thinking too pragmatically. As a grandmaster, I really can't lose face."
"Since you insist on playing yourself, then we'll change our approach."
Hearing his apprentice relent, Bruce Lee's expression softened slightly: "That's right. Ah Han, you must have faith in your master, and you must also have faith in our security brothers."
"Of course. Then we'll proceed as planned, with you attending in person. I'll have Bruno reduce the defensive perimeter even further and provide you with a lightweight bulletproof vest."
"Wearing a bulletproof vest is no problem, of course." Bruce Lee nodded: "As long as it doesn't affect our movements."
The two discussed some more details until late at night before Qin Han got up to say goodbye.
The smile on Qin Han's face vanished instantly as he stepped out of Bruce Lee's suite.
"Master, you have your pride, and I have my bottom line. When it comes to safety, I'm afraid I'll have to make you suffer a little."