Chapter 434

"Arthur Chua?" the leader, a middle-aged man in a nice shirt and pants combo swaggered out, a toothpick in his mouth and big sunglasses that would have fit into an '80s gangster movie hanging from his shirt pocket.

"Mai ngo ah!" Arthur said, automatically as he turned away.

"I know it's you!" the other man said. "I'm here to bring you to talk to my boss."

"No thanks. I have a headache. Maybe tomorrow," Arthur said. 

Hurried footsteps as Arthur tried to beat a retreat. So far, most people were getting out of his way, shifting away while even some of the thugs and gang members looked confused. A few had hesitantly moved to stop Arthur, but thus far, no one had put hands on him. Until the uncle from before got a hand on his elbow.

Poor fool got tugged near off his feet when Arthur chose not to stop, dragging the other man forward. Of course, that meant the other thugs decided it was time to get involved and the formerly hesitating group resolved into a sold wall of people. And suddenly, Arthur's idle musings from before started becoming much more relevant.

“Please, tenggu. We don’t want to hurt you! Just talk. Promise.”

Arthur snorted. “No one needs this many to talk.” However, he did stop, choosing to do so rather than run. For one thing, it would look terrible if he just up and ran when no one was drawing a weapon.

“Just down this way, boss!” the fashionable fellow scrambled around so that Arthur could see him and where he was pointing. Arthur followed the finger, saw that it was aimed at a restaurant, the front open to the elements so that you could see inside. Seated at a table visible from outside, another middle-aged gentleman waved.

Something about the man, perhaps the healthy tan or the way he stood, or just the relaxed nature of how he sat told Arthur that the man was not just the boss he was to talk to but also a fellow Climber. Potentially one higher ranked than him.

That was the other concern now. Back in the Tower, towards the end, he might have been outclassed, but only marginally. Out here, in the real world; there was no way to tell how powerful another might be, not until you got up close. They could be another beginner Climber or someone who’d passed through multiple Intermediate Towers.

Of course, the chance of someone of that caliber just sitting around in a coffee shop, waiting for him to turn up on Petaling Street were exceptionally unlikely. Even more so that they’d want to talk to him. The Durians might be important in the future, but they certainly weren’t that much of a concern right now.

“Alright.” Arthur made up his mind and sauntered over to the man. He noted idly that the restaurant was one that made clay pot rice, the multiple burners out front running as the old man and his family worked the claypots, getting them ready for the long waiting line while waiters rushed around inside the restaurant, packing up leftovers for the regular customers who were leaving – some going so far as to abandon their meals.

A small part of Arthur felt guilty about the mess his presence was causing, but only a small part. After all, there were triad members pushing fifty ringgit bills into hands as recompense, more than sufficient to pay for the rice.

“Arthur Chua?” the older man said, offering a hand to be shook.

“Yes. You?” Arthur asked, taking hold of the hand. He felt the man close his hand, squeezing lightly but not going too far, just enough to assert that, yes, he was stronger than Arthur. Dominance without idiocy. He could work with that.

“You can call me Bolo.”

“Like the old actor?”

“Yes! Father liked him.” Bolo brightened at the recognition. “Most people don’t remember him!”

“My Sifu likes to play old kungfu movies while we train.”

“Really?”

“He says if we get that distracted that easily by the movies, we deserve to be hit.” Arthur grimaced, touching his ribs in remembered pain. “He does the hitting, of course.”

Bolo slapped the table in amusement. “Gam hou!. Hungry or not?”

“I just ate…”

“Eh, don’t be like that lah. You a Climber, can always eat, right?” A hand rose, waving down the boss and then two fingers were held up. He lowered it a moment later, gesturing for one of the Indian waiters working the edge to come over. “What you wanna drink?”

“Kopi ping,” Arthur said, knowing better than to turn it down. Also, really, it was really hot and hydrating was never a bad idea. Since he didn’t have to worry about calories either, the highly sugary condensed milk in the coffee was not an issue. Not that he had worried too much about it, when he was prepping to get in either, what with a light day being six hours of training.

“Teh o ais.” Then, Bolo looked Arthur up and down consideringly. Rather than break the silence, Arthur let the man watch him, idly noting that now that he was seated next to Bolo, the other triad members had gone back to their posts watching over the tourists and counterfeit stalls.

Eventually, curiosity won out and he asked. “Which one are you?”

“Mmmm? Bolo. Said so already.” Then, smiling. “This is my turf.”

“Ah.” So that would put him as medium sized boss, a hand if you used the old systems. Not that most of them bothered with that, the majority considering it old fashioned, the rest a decent way of getting caught by giving everyone specific terms. After the crackdowns and the first wave of pressure, the triads had learnt to hide their allegiances better including removing things like specific tattoos or markings.

Not that the kids chose not to wear things like that themselves sometimes, but with the prevalence of tattoos in the civilian population and the popularity of certain types for Climbers, it had stopped being an automatic exclusionary option. Or marking.

“I meant which group?”

“Guess.”

Arthur sighed, choosing not to play the game. He instead fell silent, which was a silence that held till their claypot rice dishes arrived ten minutes later, the chicken and claypot rice dishes freshly cooked. The smell of ham yee, soya sauce, crispy rice and fresh onions reached Arthur’s nose and made him stomach rumble.

If the man wasn’t going to talk, then Arthur would eat. And eventually, leave.

The only question then would be what happened when he tried.