Chapter 060: No Escape from Living Sin

Tang Mubai was furious.

He took a deep breath, suppressing his rage. What was done was done—anger alone would not help. Finding the one who poisoned him was the key!

Who could it be?

After a moment’s thought, Tang Mubai narrowed down the suspects. To be absolutely certain, he pulled out his phone and called the lobby manager, Zhou Yun, asking her to summon all those who cooked or served his dishes to the private room.

Shortly after, a plump chef, his assistant, and the waiter who had served earlier entered, led by Zhou Yun.

Tang Mubai thanked Zhou Yun, dismissing her and instructing her to close the door behind her.

His gaze swept the trio like a torch, his voice calm: “Whoever did it, step forward now. If you do, I won’t pursue the matter.”

No one moved.

The portly chef, in his forties or fifties, looked bewildered.

The assistant, about thirty, glanced around nervously.

The waiter, barely twenty, looked innocently perplexed.

Each wore their own mask, and Tang Mubai watched their performances with a smile. “Well, your acting’s not bad. But do you really think I don’t know who did this just because you believe I have no evidence?”

Silence.

Yet the chef was starting to crack, rubbing his hands anxiously. “Um, Captain, what exactly are you referring to?”

Tang Mubai did not answer, but instead unleashed a gradual pressure upon the three.

Their inner fear, uneasiness, and panic grew.

With a thud, the assistant chef dropped to his knees, trembling and crying out, “I was wrong, Captain! I was wrong! I’m not human, I’m not human!”

With that, the pressure vanished.

The chef and the waiter, still stunned, stared at him in disbelief.

Tang Mubai waved his hand, chuckling, “It’s alright. You two can go back to work.”

“Alright... yes, sir.” The chef, confused but not daring to ask more, hurried out.

The waiter followed, closing the door behind him.

“Now, with no one else here, tell me exactly what you did,” Tang Mubai said coolly.

“Yes, yes.” The assistant chef trembled, stammering, “My name is Huang Shubo... I’m Chef Chen’s assistant. Around nine this morning, I went to the nearby supermarket to buy cigarettes. Someone stopped me, gave me a bottle of liquid, and said if I poured it into the dishes you’d eat, Captain, he’d give me ten thousand Federal Credits...”

He spoke haltingly, then bowed his head, afraid to continue.

“Ten thousand Federal Credits?” Tang Mubai scoffed. “You really are cheap. For ten thousand, you’re willing to help someone harm me...”

“Harm?” Huang Shubo looked up in terror. “Captain, are you saying that liquid would kill someone?”

“You didn’t know?” Tang Mubai watched him with interest.

“I swear, Captain, I truly didn’t! I had no idea it would kill anyone! I admit I’m greedy, but I never meant to harm you! The man said he had a grudge against you and wanted to see you embarrassed. He told me the liquid would give you diarrhea for a day, and you’d have to stay in the hospital for three days or so. I didn’t know it was poison!”

“Captain, I really didn’t know, I swear!” Tears streamed down Huang Shubo’s face.

Causing diarrhea and killing someone are worlds apart.

Even a professional martial artist would suffer if caught with evidence, let alone an ordinary man like Huang Shubo.

At that moment, his terror was absolute. He trembled uncontrollably, sobbing his heart out.

Tang Mubai’s sixth sense assured him that Huang Shubo spoke the truth.

It made sense—no matter how greedy, Huang Shubo wouldn’t dare commit murder. He was just foolish and covetous, acting at the slightest incentive.

“Stop crying. I never said I’d kill you,” Tang Mubai replied calmly.

“Thank you, Captain! Thank you!” Huang Shubo shuddered with gratitude, kowtowing on the floor.

He had thought himself doomed, but the tide had turned—Tang Mubai was willing to spare him!

“The man who gave you the liquid—was he the one with triangular eyes, a hooked nose, about twenty-seven or twenty-eight?” Tang Mubai asked.

“No—yes—uh, I’m not sure.” Huang Shubo paused, scratching his head to recall. “The man who gave me the liquid was in his thirties, but I also saw the man you described. He stood nearby, watching the transaction. After I got the money, I saw him leave together with the one who gave me the liquid.”

“Then it’s settled. I meant him.” Tang Mubai sneered.

Triangular eyes, hooked nose, twenty-seven or twenty-eight—those features matched Kou Xiaohui exactly!

He knew Kou Xiaohui wouldn’t let it go and would seek revenge.

Luckily, Kou Xiaohui targeted him directly. If he had targeted the restaurant, making Huang Shubo poison a guest’s meal, it would have been disastrous.

If a customer died from poisoning at Miracle Restaurant, even if it didn’t close, it would be ruined, going from bustling to empty overnight.

Thank goodness!

Tang Mubai kept his composure, but inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief.

Kou Xiaohui... that wretched man!

On the street that morning, Tang Mubai could not kill him, but the next time would be different.

Suppressing his fury, Tang Mubai looked at Huang Shubo and spoke coldly, “Though you were only an accomplice and I said I wouldn’t kill you, you won’t escape punishment. Choose—a hand or a leg. Break it yourself, and you can leave.”

“I...” Huang Shubo trembled.

“What, do you have objections?” Tang Mubai’s gaze chilled.

“No... none.” Huang Shubo’s body shook, his face twisted with resentment and regret, but finally he placed his left hand on the table, picked up a wooden stool with his right, turned his head, and slammed it down with all his might.

A dull thud, a crack—the stool splintered, his left arm bent unnaturally, his face flushed, sweat pouring, his teeth clenched to stifle his cry.

“At least you have some spine,” Tang Mubai laughed. “Go. Never let me see you again.”

Huang Shubo said nothing, only bowed low, face taut, clutching his broken arm, drenched in sweat as he left.

From the corridor came startled cries.

Tang Mubai ignored them and did not immediately seek out Kou Xiaohui.

It was still midday, and even if he found Kou Xiaohui now, dealing with him would be inconvenient.

For that, killing Kou Xiaohui could wait until night.

Compared to that, what intrigued Tang Mubai more was the poison Kou Xiaohui provided, mixed into his dish, and the system’s counterattack and resistance.

“Last time ‘pressure resistance’ turned into ‘pressure control.’ Will ‘poison resistance’ become ‘poison control’ this time?”