HLM – Chapter 200 Do You Have the Life to Spend It?

The group returned and found the Maori hotel owner at the front desk. He shrugged and said, “Fellas, this has nothing to do with me. That waiter isn’t from our hotel—he’s from another restaurant.”

Charlie walked over, frowning. “What do you mean?”

The Maori boss gave a helpless smile and said, “I don’t really know how to put it. In short, the food and drinks you had weren’t provided by the hotel. We only offer buffet service—we don’t serve dishes and alcohol to the hot springs.”

Charlie slammed the table angrily. “Damn it! Why didn’t you tell us? This is a scam! You’ve teamed up with those bastards outside to con us!”

The Maori man pointed to the floor and said, “I’ve already told you—this hotel has been in our family for generations. You can check—it’s been open for over a hundred years. If we ran a scam business, would we have lasted this long?”

“Then what’s going on here?”

The boss replied, “Simple. You got scammed. But it has nothing to do with me. I suggest you call the police—though I doubt it’ll help.”

Charlie looked like he still had something to say, but Wang Bo waved him off and led the others out the door.

Once outside, he gave Bowen a look. Bowen strode over to the white youth and coldly asked, “How much?”

The youth beamed, replying, “A bottle of Maori Spring Wine is one thousand dollars. You drank ten bottles over two rounds—that’s ten thousand. The large stew pot is five thousand per serving, the small one is two thousand—you had two of each. That’s fourteen thousand. All together, it comes to twenty-four thousand.”

Hearing the price, the group’s expressions changed dramatically. Wang Bo’s face darkened. He had suspected they were being scammed, but not this badly—two meals for twenty-four thousand!

If it had been at a top-tier hotel, he might have accepted it. But this was just a makeshift meal in the wild—some messy stews and ten little bottles of cheap liquor. And the white liquor was clearly low-quality. That price was outrageous.

Bowen, being hot-tempered, immediately looked ready to throw punches, but Wang Bo held him back. He looked at the young man and said calmly, “Buddy, look—we’re not looking for trouble. How about this: two meals, twenty-four hundred. Fair?”

The white youth sneered. “You got balls? Try starting something and see what happens! Twenty-four hundred? You idiot think you were eating dog shit? It’s twenty-four thousand. Not a cent less.”

He then shouted into his walkie-talkie, “Guys! We’ve got some dine-and-dashers here!”

With a loud commotion, more than a dozen big men burst in—white, Black, Maori—all burly and thuggish-looking, their faces practically screaming I’m a thug.

They quickly and expertly surrounded Wang Bo’s group in a half-circle. Insults flew:

“Piglets! You eat and don’t pay? Then pay in blood!”

“Damn poor bastards, coming out to play without money? Go home and play with your mama!”

“Haha, can’t pay? Work it off! Do six months of hard labor and you can scram!”

“What happened to that Vietnamese chick last time? Too bad there’s no hot girl this time—we could’ve had some real fun tonight!”

Wang Bo’s group stepped back, but the thugs stepped forward, tightening the circle. Seeing the commotion spill outside the hotel, the Maori owner stormed out and shouted, “Cummings! Don’t push it! Twenty-four hundred is already a lot!”

A burly Black man growled at him, “This ain’t your business, man. If I were you, I’d head back inside and stay in my room—unless you really want beef with the Mountain Trolls.”

The hotel owner’s face twisted with anger. He spat on the ground but eventually turned and went back inside.

Wang Bo calmly asked, “So you have to get that twenty-four thousand?”

The white waiter smirked arrogantly, “Oh, it’s more than twenty-four now. My boys showed up, right? They need an appearance fee. Let’s keep it cheap—make it thirty-four thousand.”

“Thirty-four’s too low,” said a middle-aged white guy who seemed like the leader, cocking his head with a mocking grin. “I’m worth more than a grand. Make it forty!”

“My fee’s not one grand either. I want five!”

“I don’t want money—I want the yellow-skinned boy. I love that bronze skin, so smooth… And Asian guys scream the best in bed—‘ah ah ah’…”

“Ha ha ha!” the thugs roared with laughter.

Bowen and Juan clenched their fists, ready to fight.

Wang Bo, however, stayed calm. He smiled steadily and asked, “You sure? Aren’t you afraid you’ll get the money, but not live to spend it?”

The white waiter stepped up, reaching to slap Wang Bo’s face with a sneer. “Shit, this pig still has a mou—oh, SHIT!”

He never finished.

Just as he raised his hand, the massive dog behind Wang Bo—who’d been following quietly—leapt like a hungry tiger, slamming the youth to the ground. Its claws pinned his shoulders down, and it opened its mouth, revealing pale, razor-sharp teeth, and lunged for his neck.

Wang Bo whistled. The dog stopped short of biting, but its jaws clamped around the youth’s throat, thick, slimy drool dripping onto his skin.

The white guy lost all arrogance. With his neck in the jaws of something the size of a baby calf, he barely dared to breathe. “Oh God! Oh shit! Oh for God’s sake, get this damn dog off me!”

Several of the thugs moved to attack, but Wang Bo snorted. “Idiots. You really want that moron to die?”

The leader sneered darkly. “Get ’em, boys! Teach these sons of bitches a lesson! I don’t believe he has the guts to let the dog kill!”

He was right—Wang Bo didn’t plan on letting the dog kill anyone. But he also wasn’t afraid of the thugs.

As the dozen goons charged, Wang Bo signaled the dog. It stepped hard on the waiter’s shoulder and launched itself at the leader like a cannonball.

Wang Bo darted forward, grabbed the downed youth, kicked him in the stomach, then hoisted him like a ragdoll and tossed him to Juan. “Give him a massage!”

As he said it, he sprinted into the fray. Blocking a punch, he twisted and struck hard at a Black thug’s abdomen.

The guy’s eyes bulged. He didn’t even manage a sound before collapsing to his knees, gasping for air, clutching his belly.

Charlie and Bowen each found an opponent. The dog, after knocking down the leader, sank its teeth into his shoulder, then turned and bit another guy’s leg as he tried to kick it.