CHAPTER 267: HOLLYWOOD NIGHTMARE COMES TRUE

This kind of scene, she had only seen it in Hollywood movies; even local films didn’t have such intense visuals.

The howling sea wind, the gloomy night, the dangerous atmosphere, cool assassins in black suits, and someone carrying a sniper rifle. And it seemed there were more than just these few people. As Wen Nuan thought this, a dozen or so people, surrounding one person, walked over. The person in the middle also wore a black suit with a棗-colored cape over it, looking a bit eerie. He was of medium build, with curly hair and deep, regular features. Hearing him speak fluent American English, Wen Nuan thought he might be an American. The dozen or so men were all uniformly cold-looking. There was also a woman wearing a white shirt, black hot pants, and black knee-high boots. She was also American, with a pretty short haircut, glamorous and cool, with two pistols behind her waist and playing with a curved knife in her hand.

Wen Nuan was startled. These people looked terrifying, each radiating a murderous aura. Wen Nuan was very scared. The woman walked over and tore the tape from Wen Nuan’s mouth. Wen Nuan coughed a few times, her face as pale as paper. She could finally breathe; it was so difficult.

"Just this little girl? She doesn’t look like much, like a little bean sprout," John sneered, his gaze dismissive. He squatted down and lifted Wen Nuan’s chin. Wen Nuan was afraid, but she tried hard not to show it, looking at John calmly and composedly.

He seemed displeased that a woman dared to look at him like that. His grip tightened, and Wen Nuan immediately felt as if her jaw would be crushed. Pain spread to every nerve in her heart.

Violence!

"This Eastern woman looks so young, fifteen or sixteen, perhaps. Mo Yeyan likes these young girls?" a man in black said, and the other men burst into laughter.

Wen Nuan chuckled coldly in her heart. "So what if Eastern women look young? They’re much better than you Western women. You look like fairies when you’re little, then grow up with freckles, looking thirty-something at seventeen or eighteen. Humph!"

"John, what should we do with this woman? Mo Yeyan is coming soon. Why don’t we kill her? She’s useless anyway," the woman said, her eyes revealing a murderous intent. Wen Nuan’s heart trembled.

Who was Mo Yeyan again? She didn’t know him. Wen Nuan teared up. These people must have mistakenly captured the wrong person. But she couldn’t admit the mistake, otherwise she would become even more useless and die faster.

The knife in the woman’s hand was already itching to move, its cold gleam flashing in the darkness. Wen Nuan’s heart sank into an abyss, suddenly feeling that she was not far from death at all; it was very close.

She didn’t want to die.

If that woman were to cut her down with one stroke, she would scream that they had captured the wrong person. Since she couldn’t change the situation anyway, she might as well fight back. Right now, neither of them were speaking, so she wouldn’t tell the truth, lest she really get cut. This was no joke.

"Julie, this woman is still useful," John said, standing up and looking around the environment. He gave a cold smile, pointing to a derelict boat not far away. "Tie her up there."

Wen Nuan followed his gaze, her face changing dramatically. "What?"

Tie her up there?

A boat pole nearly seven or eight meters high, with a wreckage below. If she fell from there, even if her legs weren’t broken, she would be impaled by the boat nails beneath. What kind of person was this John, to be so vicious?

Before she could react, two men in black came and grabbed Wen Nuan, intending to tie her up. Wen Nuan struggled wildly. "Let go, you’ve got the wrong person, let go..."

In her desperation, she shouted in Chinese. The others didn’t understand Chinese. The two men looked at John, asking what to do. John waved his hand, telling them to step aside a few steps. He looked at Wen Nuan. "What do you want to say?"

Wen Nuan paused. Although her English was a bit broken, she could manage simple conversations. "Let me go... I don’t know any Mo Yeyan, really, I don’t..."

John burst into laughter, suddenly stood up, and waved for someone to come and tie Wen Nuan. Before long, Wen Nuan was hoisted onto the boat pole. Wen Nuan felt dizzy and disoriented, her mind a blank. No matter how much she screamed, she couldn’t stop her fate of being hung up.

When a woman is in a critical situation, her decibel level is extremely powerful. As she was being dragged and tied up, she admired herself for being able to scream so loudly that it echoed throughout the area, showing the extreme potential of a woman’s vocal cords.

The man in black, unable to tolerate it any longer, used black tape to seal her mouth again. The entire port instantly fell silent. Wen Nuan’s heart went cold. "Will I really die here?"

Now she understood how misleading movie heroines were. Every time they were kidnapped, they could chatter on with their captors for ages, even threatening them defiantly. Some even managed to terrify the kidnappers.

But now that she was kidnapped, she realized that real gangsters wouldn’t give you any time for nonsense. She said one extra word and her mouth was taped shut, let alone anything else.

Fast, ruthless, accurate—that was their style.

She was suspended on a seven or eight-meter high boat pole. The sea wind howled, and her body swayed precariously in the air. She suddenly felt like a kite. Due to gravity, her wrists hurt terribly. Hanging there, the friction had broken her wrists, causing immense pain.

Besides the pain, there was also a floating sensation, as if her feet couldn’t touch the ground. Wen Nuan only felt extreme suffering. She didn’t dare to struggle; if she did, her body would sway even more violently, and the幅度 would increase. In the end, only she would suffer, and drifting like this was an awful experience.

The people below were discussing something. Wen Nuan couldn’t understand them. Their English was too fast, and occasionally interspersed with Italian phrases, making it even more incomprehensible. She had no idea what they were talking about.

Although she couldn’t hear what they were saying, Wen Nuan saw several people carrying sniper rifles and climbing to high positions. They spread out in four corners, perfectly concealed, aiming at the center of the field.

Another dozen or so people fanned out, forming three inner and three outer circles, occupying the most important positions in the abandoned junkyard, completely sealing it off. Wen Nuan thought, "If they open fire, the approaching person will surely be riddled with bullets."

This formation was too terrifying.

Who exactly was coming? Wen Nuan was uneasy. At this moment, she desperately hoped that Feimo wouldn’t come. Please, don’t come. This was clearly a death trap set by an enemy, just to kill the person who came.

They kept talking about Mo Yeyan, about the Mafia, with anger and release, but they never mentioned Ye Feimo. Wen Nuan was relieved. Thank goodness, they didn’t mention Ye Feimo, so the person coming wouldn’t be Ye Feimo.

He wouldn’t get hurt, nor would he be held at gunpoint.

But...

If it wasn’t Ye Feimo, she was in Rome, unfamiliar with the people and places. Who would care about her life or death? Mo Yeyan was part of the Mafia and had nothing to do with her. Why would he be foolish enough to come to the pier?