Rebirth of a Mercenary: The Ace Mercenary Forced to Be the Beloved of the Group

The screams from the basement lasted for a long time.

From heart-wrenching screams to faint sobs, from indistinct pleas for mercy to a breathy sound that could only be squeezed out instinctively from deep within the throat, no longer even having the strength to beg for mercy.

Finally, everything fell silent.

Bai Chen stood beside the iron table, slowly wiping his hands with the hot towel handed to him by Number Nine.

He glanced sideways at the unrecognizable human form on the rack, his icy blue eyes remaining completely calm.

"Throw him out to feed the dogs."

"Yes." Number Nine's voice was calm and indifferent, as if he had been ordered to pour a glass of water.

He stepped out from the corner, deftly unchained the rack, and dragged the mangled, bloody mess down. The corpse left a wide, dark red trail on the ground, the stench of rust mingling with a sweet, metallic smell so strong it could almost rip one's stomach out of their throat.

A few minutes later, the faint sounds of wild dogs barking and tearing could be heard outside the basement.

Bai Chen turned and left the basement.

He walked up the narrow staircase at a leisurely pace, his training boots making a steady thud on the metal steps. He pushed open the basement door, walked through the dark corridor, and then pushed open another door, entering a room completely different from the basement.

This is a living room that is decorated quite elegantly.

Several abstract paintings hung on the dark gray walls, and a warm yellow floor lamp cast a soft glow beside the sofa. Dozens of bottles of red wine from different vintages were neatly arranged in a solid wood wine cabinet against the wall. A faint scent of cedarwood diffuser filled the air, completely isolating the stench of blood in the basement from the surrounding world.

Bai Chen walked to the wine cabinet, his slender fingers slowly gliding over a row of bottles, finally stopping on a bottle of vintage Burgundy Pinot Noir.

He pulled out the bottle, skillfully uncorked it with a corkscrew, and the deep red wine slowly poured into the decanter, gleaming like jewels under the light. He poured himself a glass, took the stemmed glass, and sat down on the sofa.

The sofa was a dark brown genuine leather sofa, soft and spacious. He leaned back against the sofa, one long leg elegantly crossed over the other, gently swirling the red wine in his glass.

When Number Nine pushed open the door, Bai Chen was leaning against the sofa with a wine glass in his hand.

Number Nine had changed into a clean combat uniform—the previous one had been splattered with blood in the basement.

Bai Chen looked up from behind his wine glass, his gaze falling on Number Nine. Under the warm yellow light, those icy blue eyes appeared lighter, less chilling than in the basement, and more languid and nonchalant.

He slightly curled the corners of his mouth, revealing a smile that was ambiguous.

"Number Nine".

Number Nine's body trembled very slightly.

Number Nine knelt down in front of Bai Chen with smooth and practiced movements. His knees landed on the thick carpet without making a sound. His back was straight, his hands were placed neatly on his knees, and his head was slightly lowered.

"Owner."

Bai Chen tilted his head and looked at Number Nine kneeling in front of him.

"Come here." Bai Chen placed the wine glass on the coffee table next to the sofa and beckoned to him.

Number Nine crawled to Bai Chen's feet and stopped.

Bai Chen looked down at him. Number Nine kept his head down, the back of his neck exposed to the light. He remained motionless in this position, like a well-trained hunting dog, quietly waiting for its master to give the next command.

Bai Chen frowned.

He reached out, gripped Number Nine's shoulder with his five fingers, and pulled him up from the ground. Number Nine lost his balance and fell forward, but Bai Chen caught him and pressed him onto his lap.

Number Nine's waist and abdomen were pressed tightly against Bai Chen's thighs, his upper body resting on Bai Chen's knees, his posture even more awkward than when he was kneeling on the carpet. He didn't know where to put his hands, and in the end, he could only stiffly support himself on both sides of Bai Chen's knees, the veins on the back of his hands slightly bulging.

Number Nine looked up, as if to say something.

Bai Chen lowered his head and kissed her.

Bai Chen's hand gripped the back of Number Nine's neck, his knuckles tightening, pressing him firmly against his lips. His other hand pressed down on Number Nine's waist, the force so great it felt like he wanted to mash him into his ribs.

Number Nine's eyes slowly closed after a brief moment of unfocusing. His tense body began to relax after a few seconds—his shoulders were no longer stiff, and his hands, which had been resting on his knees, slowly came back and grasped the fabric of Bai Chen's chest.

Bai Chen's kissing skills were as precise as his skinning technique, carrying a kind of effortless ease that came from mastering the art. He used the tip of his tongue to pry open Number Nine's tightly clenched teeth, sending the bitter tannins of red wine and a faint rusty taste into the other's mouth.

Number Nine's Adam's apple bobbed—he tasted the red wine, and also a deeper, cold, intense, addictive flavor that belonged to Bai Chen himself.

The kiss lasted a very, very long time. So long that all the oxygen in Number Nine's lungs was gone, so long that his fingers had created fine wrinkles in the fabric of Bai Chen's shirt, so long that Bai Chen himself felt that if he didn't stop, the person in his arms would suffocate.

Bai Chen released his lips and looked down at Number Nine, who was lying on his lap, panting heavily.

Number Nine's eyes glistened with tears forced out by oxygen deprivation, his lips were swollen and red from the kisses, and a trace of glistening moisture remained at the corner of his mouth. His chest heaved violently, and his fingers gripping Bai Chen's clothes were still trembling slightly.

Bai Chen used his thumb to wipe away the saliva from the corner of his mouth, then put his finger back in his mouth and licked it clean.

Number Nine watched Bai Chen lick his fingertips, his pupils trembled violently, and then he buried his face in Bai Chen's knees.

Bai Chen looked at the few stray hairs sticking up on the back of his head, said nothing, but simply ran his fingers through Number Nine's hair, stroking it intermittently.

His movements were very light, a stark contrast to the man who had just skinned and sawed bones in the basement.

No, he's not a completely different person. Bai Chen is still Bai Chen; it's just that his cruelty and gentleness are two sides of the same coin, one side reserved for his enemies, and the other for only two people.

"Your hands are shaking." Bai Chen's voice returned to its lazy, deep tone as he slowly twirled a strand of No. 9's hair around his fingertips.

"...No." Number Nine's voice came from his knees, muffled.

Bai Chen chuckled softly, but didn't expose him further.

His fingers slid from Number Nine's hair to the back of his neck, gently pinching the muscle that had become slightly stiff from maintaining the same posture for so long.

Number Nine lay half-crouched on his lap, his breathing gradually calming down. Outside the window, the night wind of the Gobi Desert, carrying sand and gravel, rattled against the iron-sealed windowpane. In the distance, the faint howls of wild dogs could be heard—probably fighting over something.

Bai Chen leaned back on the sofa, his fingers still slowly running through No. 9's hair, looking down at the person in his arms, a very faint smile always on his lips.