She is a natural disaster.

Chapter 23 Mysterious Woman

The blonde, blue-eyed woman's last name was Capulet.

She looked to be around thirty years old. She wasn't the kind of stunning beauty that would catch your eye at first glance, but she had an outstanding presence and a captivating charm.

Capulet possesses a unique, cold beauty, like the biting winter wind or the fluttering snowflakes.

She simply sat there, yet she exuded an unassailable majesty, an innate majesty, as if she were born to be high above, born to look down upon all living beings.

Capulet's brows were furrowed, and the word "disgust" was clearly written on her sharply defined face.

Sitting across from him, Le Bon Dupont seemed oblivious to the blatant disgust, continuing to wolf down his tomahawk steak in each hand.

The empty plates in front of him were piled high, and the leftover bones were piled up like a small mountain, but he was not satisfied. He chewed the beef with gusto, and with each bite of the steak, the fat on his face would jiggle.

LeBon Dupont, Senior Detective Inspector of the Upper Town Police Department, the number two officer in the Operations Division, is nicknamed "Fat Pig Detective".

Firstly, because of his incredibly large size, no one knows his exact weight, but it is likely very close to the upper limit of the scale.

Secondly, it was because of his outrageously greedy nature. He was greedy for money, food, and women; there was nothing in this world that he didn't covet, and his greed seemed endless.

But tonight was an exception. A woman with a unique temperament and great charm was sitting opposite Du Pang, but he controlled his greed very well and dared not look at the woman opposite him for more than a second.

Dupont did not recognize Capulet and had never seen her before tonight, but he keenly sensed something was amiss and made an accurate judgment.

The strange woman sitting in front of him was someone he couldn't afford to offend; he had to be even more careful.

After swallowing the last bite of his tomahawk steak, Dupont stopped eating and picked up a napkin to wipe his thick, sausage-like mouth.

"Madam, I've thought about it for a long time, and I don't think I know you," Du Pang said, his tone greasy, as if oil had seeped into his stomach.

“You don’t need to know me, Dupont,” Capulet said. “I know who you are, and that’s enough.”

Capulet spoke with extreme arrogance, and her expression changed from disgust to disdain.

For most people in Gloria, Senior Inspector LeBon Dupont was already a big shot.

But in Capulet's presence, the senior detective seemed to be nothing more than an insignificant figure; she didn't even glance at Dupont, who was sitting opposite her.

"Madam, since you know who I am, you must have something to ask me," Du Pang said. "I will do my best to help you with what I can, and I believe you can understand my difficulties with what I cannot do."

No police officer who has climbed to the position of senior detective is an idiot.

Faced with Capulet's arrogance and disdain, Le Bon Dupont remained composed and did not lower his own position.

However, Capulet did not lower her guard because of Dupont's composure; her emerald green eyes showed no regard for Dupont's large and obese body.

"My matter is very simple; you just need to pass on a message for me."

Passing on a message is a very simple task, something even a child could do, and Le Bon Dupont had no good reason to refuse.

Capulet continued, "Go back and tell your master that he wants to touch Montague. I don't care, but the New City cannot be thrown into chaos."

Le Bon Dupont showed no outward sign, but inwardly he was starting to feel uneasy.

The woman in front of me knows that the Upper East Side Police Department colluded with others to attack Montague. Who is she?

What does this mean? Is someone dissatisfied with what happened last night? Is the warning that chaos must not occur in the new city?

"Madam, I can pass on your message." Du Pang didn't deny it; the woman in front of him wasn't stupid. "But, at least I should know who you are, right?"

Le Bon Dupont wanted to find out Capulet's identity; he could relay the message, but he couldn't remain completely ignorant.

"You don't need to know who I am. You just need to take my words back with you." Capulet's voice turned cold. Dupont was not worthy of knowing her name.

Le Bon Dupont forced a smile across his fat face and said, "Madam, I don't even know who you are. Even if I relay your words back, I'm afraid—"

Some things don't need to be said very clearly.

Dupont didn't even know who Capulet was, so if he relayed the message back, it probably wouldn't have much impact.

"Here's what I'll do. I'll give you a reason to pass on a message. Whether your master is willing to do it or not is his business."

With that, Capulet raised his pistol and pressed the muzzle directly against Le Bon Dupont's forehead.

This is a revolver so exquisitely crafted it resembles a work of art. Its sleek lines gleam with a golden sheen, and the thorns and roses engraved on it are remarkably lifelike.

Le Bon Dupont was startled. He hadn't even seen the woman's movements when the gun was already pressed against his forehead.

Feeling the cool touch between his eyebrows, he forced a smile again on his fat face. His eyes, which had been just slits, were now completely gone, looking more like a wrinkle of skin.

"Madam, that reason is sufficient; I don't think I can refuse."

The gun was already pressed against his forehead. Although Du Pang knew the woman in front of him wouldn't shoot him, he didn't dare to ask any more questions.

"It should have been like this a long time ago, Dupont," Capulet said. "If I hadn't been too lazy to look for anyone else, you would have been dead the moment I first saw you."

Le Bon Dupont knew this wasn't a threat; he saw a deep killing intent in the woman's narrow eyes.

If nothing unexpected happens, when the two meet again, Dupont will surely become a victim of Capulet's gun.

Capulet put away the exquisitely crafted pistol, which resembled a work of art, and the icy touch that had been emanating from Dupont's brow disappeared.

This time, Le Bon Dupont still couldn't see Capulet's movements clearly; the pistol seemed to have vanished into thin air.

Clearly, the blond, blue-eyed Capulet is a transcendent being.

Le Bon Dupont hated transcendents more than anything else in his life. He believed that all transcendents deserved to die and that there should be no transcendents in this world.

Capulet rose from her seat and walked gracefully towards the restaurant entrance, her swaying figure exuding a captivating yet refined charm, showcasing the allure of a mature woman.

Du Pang, who remained where he was, lost his smile, and a fierce rage ignited in his eyes, which were now only slits.

The furious Dupont failed to notice that Capulet's every step as she left was remarkably consistent, each step as precise as if measured with a ruler.

The burning rage turned Le Bon Dupont's fat face a purplish-red, and his small eyes, hidden in the slits, were filled with resentment. In Dupont's mind, Capulet's fate was extremely tragic, and it could be said that not a single patch of her skin was intact.

The mere conjecture in his mind failed to extinguish the raging fire of anger; instead, it intensified.

Capulet's arrogance, Capulet's disdain, and the gun barrel pressed against his forehead... Le Bon Dupont suddenly overturned the dining table in front of him, and the plates shattered on the floor.

The waiters in the restaurant dared not approach, fearing that the senior detective's anger would fall on them. The waiters were all silent and held their breath.

However, there are some people and some things that you can't avoid, like Le Bon Dupont.

Dupont's vicious little eyes darted back and forth among the waiters.

"You, come here," he said, pointing to one of the waiters.

He was a tall, thin young man who looked to be only a teenager.

The tall, thin boy was hesitant to go over, yet also hesitant to turn back. He looked at the other waiters for help, but they all lowered their eyes and did not respond to his plea.

"Come here," Dupont said again, "and collect the broken plates."

The boy, trembling and with nowhere to turn, walked over and bent down. The plate was broken all over the floor, but he didn't dare to pick up any tools to clean it up.

Le Bon Dupont's fat face, which had turned purplish-red with anger, finally looked a little better. He turned around, picked up the cane that was placed to the side, gripped the tip of the cane with his thick, fat fingers, and left the metal-decorated handle exposed.

Le Bon Dupont watched the tall, thin boy bending down to pick up the broken pieces of the plate, and his eyes, hidden in the crevices of his flesh, gradually turned violent.

With a loud bang, the tall, thin boy was knocked to the ground. The cane struck his head, and the metal-decorated handle caused him to bleed profusely.

Le Bon Dupont did not stop there; he swung his cane again and smashed it hard against the boy.

The boy, his head bleeding, tried to escape, crawling and rolling on all fours.

Du Pang did not let the poor boy go. He chased after him and once again swung his cane, smashing it hard on the boy's leg.

The waiters in the restaurant watched the scene unfold numbly; no one stepped forward to stop it, and no one dared to say a word for the boy.

As for calling the police... Le Bon Dupont is a police officer, a senior detective, and in the entire Upper East Side Police Department, Le Bon Dupont's status is among the top ten.

The cane fell cruelly again and again, landing cruelly on the boy.

At first, the boy was able to struggle to crawl away and use his arms to protect his vital parts as much as possible.

But as the cane fell again and again, the boy completely lost the ability to protect himself. He collapsed to the ground, motionless, his tender, youthful face stained with blood.

A few minutes later, Le Bon Dupont felt tired and finally stopped.

The boy, bleeding from his head, lay sprawled on the ground, his body convulsing and occasionally vomiting blood. He was not dead, but his injuries were severe.

Le Bon Dupont beckoned to the other waiters in the restaurant, and only then did the numb waiters dare to come over. They hurriedly picked up the boy and carried him out.

The seriously injured boy urgently needed medical attention, but the medical expenses in New Town were beyond the reach of the waiter, Dupont who beat him would not pay for the medical expenses, and the restaurant owner who hired him would not begrudge him a single hell.

Le Bon Dupont, who remained in the restaurant, went to the front desk and picked up the phone.

The call was answered quickly.

"It's me. Are you still at the police station?" Du Pang asked. "I'm going back right away. I have something important to report."