And Nikolai, who had died in Mexico earlier, was now miraculously standing behind Sergei, looking noticeably paler. They must have extracted his bone marrow to create a clone—high-IQ clones are expensive to replicate.
Even William Birkin, a Ph.D. in biology and virology, couldn't solve this problem.
So-called replication from a single skin flake or drop of blood is pure nonsense—completely unscientific.
Eddie wrapped his arm around Svetlana as they entered the private room, grabbing a cigarette. "Hey, Sergei, still alive? Tough bastard. Tsk, tsk, Nikolai—I knew the real one couldn't be that brain-dead."
Sergei wasn't angry. Eddie now had the right to speak to him like that. In both strength and influence, he had completely overshadowed the younger man, who was no longer the timid loser from Raccoon City.
"Cut the crap. We can help the Eastern Slav Republic gain independence and unity. But I have one condition—you must also help North, West, and South Slavs gain independence and join the United Nations." Sergei got straight to the point.
No need for games—there wasn't any point. When dealing with smart people, directness works best. And as a general, Sergei preferred overt strategy, unlike the sneaky Nikolai. That's why he was the boss—underhanded tactics never last!
"Fine, no problem. I'll use a brilliant method to keep the city's economy running. Whether the local oligarchs continue to profit depends entirely on their own judgment." Eddie nodded.
"You know about the bioweapons appearing on the battlefield, right? This gives the increasingly arrogant Western Federation a chance to interfere in other nations' internal affairs. I can't stand their arrogance—they must pay." Sergei sniffed the blood on his blade, looking intoxicated.
"And then? With the BSAA around, even if bioweapons appear, it won't be the Western Federation's turn." Eddie took the wineglass Ada handed him and gulped it down.
"True, but what if a large number of Federation citizens in Eastern Slav Republic die from bioweapons?" Nikolai, who had been standing silently, said sinisterly.
Eddie gave him a surprised look. "Then the Western Federation might intervene. What's the next step?"
"This region borders Russia. Russia won't allow the Western Federation to extend its reach here. As long as the new regional leadership aligns with Russia, there won't be any issues." Nikolai explained further.
"So you want me to maintain high economic income even after offending the Western Federation and facing potential sanctions?" Eddie shrugged.
Svetlana's beautiful eyes narrowed—she knew it was impossible. A small nation couldn't survive after offending the Western Federation. It would either be invaded or collapse economically from within.
Even Sergei's expression turned serious. "Help me stabilize my homeland's chaos, and I'll help you take down Spencer."
"Spencer's your benefactor, and now you want to turn on him? I don't buy it. I don't need your help, but I do need you to deal with Kaplan and Simmons. The Federation is your battlefield—do as you please!" Eddie had a terrifying plan, but he didn't care—it wasn't his job to execute it.
"Deal. But I have to see results first. Once I act, they won't survive—unless I'm dead." Sergei said gravely.
"No problem. I handle the economy, you handle the connections. Cheers!" Eddie raised his wineglass.
Sergei shook his head and motioned behind him. Nikolai handed over a bottle of vodka.
"In Russia, real men drink from the bottle—only sissies use glasses." Sergei sneered, holding the vodka.
"Only men who drink industrial alcohol are real men. Those who don't are sissies." Eddie wasn't about to back down.
The banquet was lively—dazzling lights, exquisite Western pastries, and glamorous socialites flitting about. No one wanted to wake from this decadent dream.
But a few kilometers away, in the slums, robbery, smuggling, and filthy deals filled the air with a stench—hell on earth. Only those who've seen it can truly understand. That's reality—that's life!
Chapter 565: A Business Both Men and Women Love
"Why are you suddenly thanking me? That's not like you." Eddie asked, puzzled.
Svetlana's lips curved into a bewitching smile. "I know how hard it is to build an economic order—it's even tougher than scheming for independence. I've always wanted peace for the Eastern Slav Republic and their entry into the United Nations; that dream is anything but easy."
"Without you, I might have gone to extremes. All of this is because of you, and I'm deeply grateful—thank you for everything! I promise: after this, no matter what happens to the Eastern Slav Republic, I'll be only your wife. I'll stay out of affairs, content to keep house and raise our children, a good wife at home." Svetlana's gaze was resolute.
"Then I'm looking forward to it. I'm going to pay the local underground a visit and have a friendly chat. Coming along?" Eddie asked with a grin.
Ada gave a sultry smile. "Sounds more like black-eats-black to me."
Jill brushed her bangs behind her ear, beaming. "Whatever you do, I'm with you."
Lindun Slum—where the city's poor crowd together. Anyone who can't scrape by downtown ends up here. A room crammed with bunk beds is normal; twenty square meters packed with twenty people is no surprise.
When Eddie arrived, he happened to see a man about to assault a woman.
Whoosh! Before Eddie could act, Svetlana flicked a throwing knife—an invisible blade formed by air compressed from her punch.
Thud—the thug's head flew off, and the woman screamed.
Eddie ignored her and walked up to a bar, grabbed the two bouncers, and hurled them aside.
"Someone's busting the place!" the guards yelled.
Eddie pulled out his Desert Eagle and aimed at one of the punks. "Fetch your boss; I need a word."
The gatekeeper scrambled off. Two minutes later a burly tattooed bald man led a large crew over. "You bastard, wrecking my joint? Boys, waste him!"
Ada frowned slightly, then drew her custom pistol Blacktail and shot every last one of them dead. "I hate it when they swear at you."
What could Eddie say? His wife defending him so fiercely—had to be true love.
Svetlana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a flirtatious gesture. "This approach has little effect; let's head back. I'll send word and have them gather at a set location for a meeting."
"Works for me." Eddie turned to leave—with his wife around, womanizing was out of the question.
Over the next two days Sergei moved fast, striking at Federation citizens in the Eastern Slav Republic. Roughly three thousand were trapped; only a handful escaped, while the rest were deliberately herded into war zones inside the country.
Three thousand deaths sent shockwaves through the Western Federation; every city erupted in protest.
Only Simmons, security adviser, sensed something off—this looked like a calculated plot against the Western Federation.
Kaplan was Eddie's enemy, yet also a fanatic within the clan.
"Gather everyone, bring the gear—let's teach the Eastern Slav Republic a lesson." Kaplan rallied his men.
The "gear" meant storage canisters packed with sealed, frozen Hunters and Lickers, all controlled by Las Plagas parasites.
During those same two days Eddie had cowed every local crime boss; his plan was simple: turn the place into an entertainment hub.
Military security would rely on Russia; he'd keep only a few special-ops teams. As long as nobody made trouble, annual profit-sharing with Russia would guarantee safety.
After the Western Federation, only Ancient East or Russia had comparable clout.
In a South India villa, Ye Minzhi sat in her office smoking. Her private line rang—few knew the number. "What is it?"
"Something good and cheap—come to the Eastern Slav Republic." Eddie's voice carried a wicked smile.
Ye Minzhi frowned. "I'll arrive in three hours. If nothing there interests me, I'll kill you." She hung up.
Meanwhile, outside an Eastern Slav town, several street racers were summoned.
"Listen up. You're the best street racers around. A big investor wants to back this scene—needs scouts to map the tracks. In the future street racing will be legal, regular, sponsored. No more sneaking around or shady side jobs," Viktor explained the new investment plan.
Viktor was the biggest underworld figure in the Eastern Slav Republic, backed by an oligarch group.
"Hey, Viktor—who's the investor?" a gang leader asked.