Lord of Solva: Players as My Pawns

The sounds of chewing, sizzling meat, and low murmurs filled the night air. Jerry's men, still tense from the unexpected turn of events, whispered among themselves, eyes darting between Shaoran and Uncle Bai.

"Hey… does anyone else think this whole situation is weird?" one of the younger men muttered, tearing into his burger with hesitation.

"You think?" Another scoffed. "We just landed in a city packed with mercs, gangsters, and corporate spies, and our boss is out here eating burgers with some random old man. Of course, it's weird."

"No, no. Not just that," the first man insisted, lowering his voice. "That old guy… Bai. Doesn't he seem familiar?"

Someone across the table grunted. A scar-faced veteran, one of Jerry's senior men, wiped his mouth and set his food down. "Kid, you don't recognize him?"

The younger mercs shook their heads.

"Tch. No wonder. You brats weren't even born when the War of 403 and 402 happened."

Silence fell over the table.

The War of 403 and 402. One of the most brutal conflicts in modern history—a war so devastating that an entire city, 402, ceased to exist, swallowed into the dominion of 403.

"Wait, wait…" One of the younger men gulped. "You're saying he's from the war?"

The veteran nodded slowly. "Not just from the war. He was one of its nightmares."

"You mean—"

"Yeah," the scar-faced man exhaled, locking eyes with Uncle Bai, who was still busy flipping patties as if he didn't have a past drenched in blood. "That old bastard over there… he was The Ripper of War."

A heavy chill ran through the group.

"Bullshit," someone scoffed. "You're telling me that Bai, some burger-flipping street vendor, is the same guy who ripped through thousands of soldiers?"

"You don't believe me?" The veteran smirked. "Then tell me this—why do you think no one dares mess with this stall? Why do you think Shaoran's sitting here so relaxed, like this is the safest place in the city?"

That shut them up.

"Listen, kids," the older mercenary leaned forward. "Back in the war, Bai wasn't some commander hiding behind a desk. He wasn't some sniper picking targets from a rooftop."

"He was a frontline butcher."

The words sank deep, making a few of the younger men swallow nervously.

"They say he used to carry a goddamn machine gun like it was a toy. Not one of those fancy modern things with sleek designs and lightweight frames—no. A full-blown belt-fed monster, the kind that takes two or three men to operate properly. And he carried it like an AK-47."

Some of the rookies visibly tensed.

"And he wasn't just any soldier." The veteran cracked his knuckles, voice grim. "Bai was the reason 402 fell."

"Shit…" One of them breathed out.

"You mean the annexation? That was him?"

"Not alone," the veteran admitted. "But if you ask anyone who was there—any survivor—they'll tell you the same thing."

He looked over at Bai, who was still grinning like a harmless old man, tossing food onto plates with the same hands that once painted battlefields red.

"When the siege of 402 began, the city thought it could hold out for months. Maybe even years. They had the numbers, the defenses, the terrain advantage. But Bai?" The veteran let out a dark chuckle.

"He made sure they didn't last a week."

The silence around the table grew thicker as the younger mercs absorbed the weight of his words.

"He was dropped in with a squad of twenty men. Elite operatives. Only he walked out."

"What happened to the others?"

"They were just there to get him inside," the veteran replied, leaning back. "Once Bai reached the city, he tore through their defensive lines like they were paper."

A few of the younger men glanced at Bai's aging hands, wondering how those very fingers had once pressed the trigger on a machine gun that turned men into dust.

"What did he do?"

"What didn't he do?" The veteran let out a dry laugh. "Stormed bunkers, shredded through entire platoons, wiped out armored convoys with nothing but stolen weapons and explosives. The guy didn't just kill—he broke them."

Some of the mercs shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"You know what the survivors of 402 called him?"

A moment passed before someone whispered.

"The Ripper."

"Damn right," the veteran nodded. "Because when Bai came, he didn't just kill. He ripped through their ranks like a plague. The war was over the moment he stepped inside the city."

"And now he's making burgers…" One of the younger mercs muttered, looking down at his half-eaten meal.

"Yeah." The veteran smirked. "We live in strange times, kid."

Bai suddenly turned toward their table, as if sensing their conversation.

He stared at them for a moment, his grin widening. "Eat up, boys!"