xymnovel Chapter 9 Hakim has nowhere to hide
Chapter 9 Hakim has nowhere to hide
The transaction took place at a manor built on a high ground east of Alexandria, within sight of the Pharos Lighthouse.
The manor is surrounded by towering, defensive white stone walls, while the interior is extremely luxurious.
The collection boasts a dazzling array of Arabic, Persian, and Roman styles—exquisite mosaics, cool courtyards with central fountains, arcades carved with intricate geometric patterns, and even porcelain from the Eastern country of Seres, ivory from India, and silk carpets from Persia.
Zahir and his party were led into a cool reception room, where an extremely obese man sat in the main seat.
He was like an over-fermented dough, sinking deep into a large couch covered with North African brocade.
Unlike Jabbar's elite army, the power of this man was entirely reflected in his size.
He was not tall, but unusually obese, with his round face and features gently pushed together by his plump fat.
His fingers were short and thick, like a string of plump sausages, each adorned with a ring of a different material.
Draped over his obese body was a white silk robe made of extremely fine materials.
He did not carry any military-style weapons, but a flawless emerald the size of a pigeon's egg was set in the buckle of his belt.
As he breathed, the gem shimmered with the rise and fall of his abdomen.
In front of him was a low table, on one side of which were neatly arranged tax ledgers and parchment scrolls covered with messy handwriting, and on the other side were a wine glass and snacks.
"Good day, Lord Hakim," Jabbar gave a casual and perfunctory bow. "The men have been brought here. I have many military affairs to attend to, so I will not keep you company any longer. I wish you a pleasant cooperation."
"No need to see me out," Hakim, seated at the head of the table, didn't rise, but simply tapped the table lightly with his fingers. "Please, all three of you, have a seat. Come, serve the guests tea."
His voice was unexpectedly high-pitched: "Zahir, you've done a good job, I'm satisfied with the 'goods.' But regarding your payment, we've calculated it, and the initially agreed amount needs some... necessary deductions."
Zahir's facial muscles tensed instantly, but he didn't speak, only letting out a low "Oh?"
Hakim ignored Zahir's unfriendly expression, instead pointing with his right hand at the five different colored gemstone rings on Zahir's short, chubby fingers on his left hand, and began to count:
"First, there's the risk compensation. You arrived two days later than scheduled, which increased the risk of the 'goods' being exposed and our entire plan being discovered. This will be deducted by 20%."
"Secondly, there are port management and storage fees." Hakim finally raised his eyelids and glanced at Gyan. "Such a large 'living creature,' under the protection of Alexandria, doesn't it incur costs? Let's deduct another 10% from this item."
Zahir's voice was tinged with suppressed anger: "Jabbar never mentioned these rules!"
Hakim leaned back slightly on the cushion, a tolerant yet slightly sarcastic smile on his face: "Jabbar is in charge of security, and I'm in charge of finances. The rules are naturally different. And finally, there's a transaction guarantee deposit..."
"Make sure that you and your people keep your mouths shut after receiving the money, leave immediately, and... will not use this as leverage for unnecessary extortion in the future. We'll keep 30% of this deposit. If you behave well after one year, we'll return it at our discretion."
Zahir took a sudden step forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword, and the valiant pirates following behind him stirred in a commotion: "You fat..."
Jacob immediately stepped forward and gently pressed Zahir's arm, interrupting the potentially explosive address.
With a priestly smile on his face, he bowed to Hakim and said respectfully, "Your Excellency the tax collector, your... thriftiness is admirable."
Accord's words startled Hakim for a moment, then he became somewhat smug.
Jacob continued, "However, according to this calculation, my...master will likely receive less than half of what was agreed upon. This seems... somewhat inconsistent with the concept of integrity. We came with the utmost sincerity, and sincerity, once underestimated, can... become corrupted. After all, such a precious piece of silk, if stained with indelible dirt due to improper storage, or seen by someone who doesn't appreciate its value, would probably cause considerable trouble for the truly powerful figures behind you, wouldn't it?"
Hakim's face instantly darkened. He loathed the feeling of being seen through by people from the lower classes.
Hakim's tone was cold and harsh: "Master? A pirate's slave? Slaves have no right to speak here. This is the final price. Accept it, take the money and leave—don't accept it…"
He didn't finish his sentence, but the rustling sound of armor as the guards moved outside the door said it all.
Hakim rubbed his chin with his short, chubby fingers: "Or, considering how hard you've worked, I can write you an IOU for that deposit. I, Hakim, the tax collector of Alexandria, will personally sign and affix my seal. That's the greatest sincerity I can offer."
As soon as Hakim finished speaking, the air in the reception room seemed to be sucked out instantly.
Instead of the roar Lyon expected, Zahir let out a low sneer.
He leaned back slightly, took a deep breath, and his eyes, which had been staring at the horizon for years, narrowed, all the anger within them subsiding into a chilling, bone-chilling killing intent: "You fucking pig! I've been wanting to get rid of you for ages, I'm going to use a knife—to castrate you piece by piece!"
As he spoke, the elite pirates behind him took a half-step forward simultaneously with a "whoosh".
They didn't draw their swords, but their hands were already gripping the hilts tightly, and their bodies were slightly crouched, like a pack of hyenas about to pounce on their prey.
Hakim's guards reacted just as quickly, with a series of crisp sounds as longswords and scimitars were drawn instantly, reflecting a chilling glint in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
They outnumbered the pirates and moved quickly, forming a small semi-circle formation to protect Hakim behind them, creating a tense standoff.
Sweat beaded on the guard captain's forehead as he glared at Zahir and growled, "Step back! Don't be so insolent before the tax collector!"
Accord silently pulled Leon to a corner a little further behind him, his eyes quickly scanning the entire hall, searching for anything that could serve as cover or an escape route.
The two sides were less than ten steps apart; any spark, a cough, or an unnecessary movement could ignite this bloody vortex.
Hakim, emboldened, gripped the armrests of his chair with his fat fingers, attempting to exude the authority of a superior:
"Zahir, I've long been fed up with you. You should be a loyal hunting dog, you catch the prey and I feed you the meat—yet you always seem to arrogantly think you're an invincible lone wolf? Well, it's better to kill a disloyal beast sooner rather than later, lest it bite people."
Zahir's face contorted in a grotesque grimace. "That's perfect," he licked his dry lips, "to use you, you swine... to be buried with us!"
Just then, a white phantom, like a portrait of the Holy Spirit blown away by the wind, fell vertically from the shadow of the painted ceiling in the reception room.
Time seemed to stretch out infinitely at that moment.
Everyone saw the figure, but the shock in their brains prevented their bodies from reacting in time.
The shadow fell behind Hakim, its movement as gentle as a lover's caress.
His left hand, clad in a metal wristband, casually swept across his thick neck.
"Well……"
Hakim let out a short, strange hissing sound.
The arrogance and fear on his face froze instantly, turning into utter bewilderment.
He instinctively reached out to touch his neck, but only managed to do half of the movement.
The next moment, a thin red line appeared on his neck, then suddenly burst open, spurting out a jet of blood.
Zahir's knife tip remained pointed at Hakim, who froze completely.
Before the rage on his face could fade, it was replaced by disbelief and shock.
He prided himself on being a seasoned veteran who had seen all sorts of deaths, but such a precise, elegant, and ritualistic assassination was completely beyond his comprehension.
The pirates behind him, who had been menacing just moments before, now resembled a group of puppets frozen in place, their mouths agape and their eyes filled with primal fear.
Their fear of this unknown supernatural force temporarily overwhelmed their desire to fight.
The captain of the guards still had his hand on his sword hilt. His mind had undergone a violent overload in a short period of time. It took him a long time to react and utter a term that was unfamiliar to everyone present, but was extremely familiar to Leon, who was a time traveler:
"It's the Assassins—"
Lyon's pupils contracted sharply: Holy crap, there's an Assassin's Creed? Although the Assassins did exist, this assassination attempt was far too fantastical and artistic!
Accord quickly made the sign of the cross on his chest, his lips trembling silently, whether in prayer or curse was unclear.
His gaze was fixed on the white figure. He immediately realized that a change had occurred, and this was the only chance of survival.
The white-robed assassin stood silently beside Hakim's still convulsing body, his white robe spotless.
His gaze swept calmly across the room—pausing for a moment on Zahir's knife, then across the stiff faces of the guards, and finally lingering briefly on Lyon's purple robe.
The captain of the guard roared in terror, "He killed Lord Hakim! Seize him!"
Zahir let out a gloating sneer and growled at his men, "Back off! Don't move!"
He realized that it was unclear whether the white figure was friend or foe, but it was definitely a golden opportunity to stir up trouble and escape in the chaos.
Just as the two sides were about to bleed each other, the white-robed Assassin's arm twitched slightly in an almost imperceptible manner.
"Bang!"
A soft sound rang out, and a gray-black sphere exploded on the carpet between the two sides. A thick, choking gray-white smoke billowed out instantly, like a living thing, engulfing the entire reception room in the blink of an eye, turning the magnificent hall into a maze of blind men and an elephant.
Coughing sounds, terrified shouts, and the clanging of weapons clashing blindly exploded in the thick fog.
"Grab that white guy!"
"But Captain, the whole world is white right now!"
"Damn it, it's an ambush! Don't worry about me, keep an eye on the prince and the priest!"
In this chaos, a white shadow darted about like a fish, precisely avoiding all the headless flies, and silently approached Lyon and Accord.
Lyon felt a deep voice close to his ear, and a breath of air brush against his earlobe:
"If you want to live, follow my footsteps."
Before the words were even finished, the white figure had already turned around.
Accord reacted quickly, grabbing Leon's hand tightly and whispering, "Trust him!"
Without further hesitation, the two followed the almost inaudible, cat-like footsteps ahead and stumbled into the depths of the thick fog.
Almost at the same time that Lyon and Accord were taken away from their original spot, Zahir brandished his scimitar, slicing through the smoke in front of him, trying to find Hakim's guards, but he missed them.
He looked around abruptly, but apart from his chaotic subordinates and equally bewildered guards, there was no sign of the prince in purple robes or the eloquent priest.
An idea that aligned with his pirate logic struck him like lightning.
"Damn it!" Zahir let out a thunderous roar, a roar that was a mixture of fury at being deceived and frustration at realizing the truth.
"We've been tricked! That idiot Hakim was just bait! That white-robed bastard—he's another gang of robbers! Like the mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind—he's the oriole, and we're the pathetic cicada!!!"
"Chase them! Chase them, you bastards!" Zahir's eyes were bloodshot. "They must have escaped through the back door! Get those two 'goods' back! Tear that white-robed bastard to pieces!!!"
All his anger instantly shifted from the dead Hakim to the mysterious and hateful rival who had stolen his thunder.
Meanwhile, Lyon and Accord, following the assassin, had already passed through a hidden corridor and rushed to a viewing platform built on the edge of a cliff in the manor, with a hundred-meter cliff below and crashing waves.
Behind him came Zahir's furious roar and the increasingly close, chaotic footsteps of his pursuers.
There is no way out ahead.
Without pausing, Assassin glanced back at them one last time before leaping over the railing, his gaze beneath his hood as calm as a deep pool.
"Believe me, take the leap. It's your only way to survive."
After saying that, he leaped backward, his white robe fluttering in the wind, his figure tracing a perfect arc as he disappeared at the edge of the cliff.
Lyon and Accord rushed to the edge, looking down at the dizzying height and the gradually blurring and disappearing white figure, their hearts almost stopped beating.
"He's gone mad..." Jacob murmured, his face pale.
But Zahir's roar from behind was like a whip lashing out. It was a more real and desperate situation than the precipice.
Lyon looked sharply at the Accord, his eyes filled with extreme fear, but it was ultimately replaced by a resolute determination to burn his bridges.
"Jump!"
The two held each other's hands tightly, closed their eyes, and with all their might, leaped into the unknown, into freedom and fear.