My teacher is Bruce Lee, who dominated Hollywood.

Chapter 113 Preparations

Chapter 113 Preparations

As the sun rises above the horizon, Hawaii welcomes a new day.

The sea breeze, before it could even warm up, blew a cool breeze into the Hilton Hotel's top-floor suite.

Elvis Presley's mental state was completely different from a few days ago. The "resurrection show" on the beach was like a shot in the arm, making his swollen face shine brightly again.

Upon seeing Qin Han and Luo Na enter, the King of Music jumped up from the sofa.

"Hey! Qin, Luo Na!" Elvis opened his arms wide, beaming with enthusiasm. "Have you packed your luggage? I really hope you can stay a few more days!"

Qin Han smiled and nodded, his gaze sweeping over the pile of empty bottles and fried food still scattered on the table. He shook his head and chuckled, "There's a ton of stuff waiting for me in Los Angeles. Besides, you don't need me as a therapist in your current state."

"Of course!" Elvis patted his chest vigorously, his fat body jiggling. "The feeling last night—God, it worked better than any medicine. I can't wait to get back on the real stage."

At this point, he eagerly stretched out his hand: "Where's the contract? Show it to me now, I'll sign it right now. Whether it's a tour or a new album release, as long as it's arranged by Han's Films, I'll have no objections."

Qin Han could only shrug helplessly and spread his hands: "Elvis, do you think I would bring a few pages of legal documents with me on vacation? The lawyer who drafted the contract is still having coffee in Los Angeles."

He stepped forward and poked Elvis's protruding belly with his finger: "I will send you this contract, but before you sign it, you must fulfill the first clause of our agreement."

"What terms?"

"Losing weight," Qin Han laughed heartily. "What I want is that Elvis Presley who can make all the women in America scream and faint!"

"Stop eating those damn peanut butter sandwiches, go swimming, go running. The moment you return to American soil, I'll make you shock the world again!"

Elvis looked down at his belly, then at Qin Han's determined gaze, gritted his teeth, as if making a difficult decision: "Fine! For that moment that will shake the whole of America—from today onwards, I'm going to be friends with lettuce salad!"

'

It's a deal.

After saying goodbye to the spirited Elvis, the two did not go directly to the airport, but instead drove back to Coral Street in the old town.

The main entrance to the Veterans' Bar was tightly closed, but the side door was ajar.

He pushed open the door and saw Samuel Fuller waiting for him with a smile: "Leaving already?"

"Yes, now that we know it's dangerous, we need to get back and deal with it as soon as possible." Qin Han pulled up a high stool and sat down. "General, I'd like to ask you for a group of men."

"Oh? Didn't you say you didn't need bodyguards?" Samuel put down the glass he was wiping and asked with interest.

“That’s right, but I need a group of instructors.” Qin Han pulled a check from his pocket and pushed it in front of Samuel. “This is a deposit. I need to build an absolutely loyal and highly professional security team. After much thought, there’s no one more suitable than your children as instructors.”

Samuel picked up the check, glanced at the number, and raised an eyebrow slightly.

For these veterans who have long been marginalized by society, this money is not just an income, but also a recognition that they have not been forgotten by society.

The old general put the check into his jacket pocket, his tone tinged with emotion: "Since you trust us, we'll take the job. I'll pick a few skilled and level-headed guys, and have them fly to Los Angeles to report to you in a couple of days."

"Thank you, General." Qin Han felt much more at ease. With these veterans who had experienced the baptism of real war as the backbone, the security company had a soul.

"There's one more thing," he lowered his voice, "Men alone aren't enough. Since the Japanese might be carrying heavy weapons, I can't let my brothers fight with firewood sticks. I need some real workhorses." Not the kind of hunting rifles only good for hunting rabbits, but the real, hard-working stuff.

Samuel looked at Qin Han and grinned: "You've got quite the appetite, kid. I can get it for you in Hawaii, but in Los Angeles—that's Bill's territory."

He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from under the bar and wrote down a special code: "When you get back to Los Angeles, contact Bill directly. Take this note with you. As long as you pay enough, he can even arrange for you to park an armored vehicle in front of your villa."

"Understood." Qin Han solemnly accepted the note.

Five hours later, Pan Am's Boeing 747 pierced the clouds and landed at Los Angeles International Airport.

Qin Han took a deep breath. The holiday was over, and now this was a real battlefield.

The two parted ways, and Lorna rushed back to her studio to write a news article informing the public that a group of fanatics had infiltrated the United States.

Qin Han returned to his villa in West Hollywood, where everything seemed so peaceful and serene.

Bruce Lee was instructing George Russo on leg techniques, Sylvester Stallone was hunched over the dining table revising the storyboard for "Rocky," and Renée was nearby, reading a book on acting theory.

When Qin Han pushed the door open and came in, everyone was stunned: the expressions of the two were clearly not right.

"Everyone, stop for a moment and have a short meeting." Qin Han didn't exchange pleasantries, simply tossed his briefcase onto the sofa, and unbuttoned his collar.

Everyone sat around the sofa in the living room. Bruce Lee handed Qin Han a glass of water, looking at his apprentice's serious expression: "Han, has something happened in Hawaii?"

"Yes, we got rid of a few mice, but we discovered a bigger problem."

Qin Han looked around at everyone and, without hiding anything, recounted in the most concise language the assassination attempt in Hawaii and the information obtained during the interrogation.

Renée Russell covered her mouth, her face pale; Stallone's pencil snapped in two with a "crack".

Bruce Lee's eyes blazed with fury: "Bringing heavy weapons into Los Angeles? Do these Japanese want to fight a war in America?!"

"They're suicide squads; they have no concept of law, only the mission." Qin Han was also quite troubled by this: "Master, their target is very clear: you. As long as they eliminate you, even if all their men die, it's worth it for the Qinglan Society."

"Therefore, from now on, we are entering a state of high alert."

Qin Han stood up and drew the heavy curtains, shutting out the setting sun: "I plan to establish a professional security company. The manpower and equipment are already on their way, but it will take time."

"During this period of vulnerability, this villa is no longer safe. The other side is in the shadows, while we are in the open; staying here would make us sitting ducks."

"Then what do we do? Call the police?" Renee asked in a trembling voice.

"The police? By the time they get here, we'll be riddled with bullets." Qin Han shook his head. "My suggestion is—move."

"I agree. Where to move?" Stallone asked.

"There's a Sheraton hotel at Warner Bros. in Burbank, I've stayed there," Qin Han said. "It's right next to the studio, and it's full of Hollywood stars and executives. The security level is very high, so it's impossible for the Japanese to make a move there."

Bruce Lee frowned, finding it hard to accept that he had retreated to the hotel like a deserter: "Han, how can a martial artist avoid danger?"

"Master!" Qin Han emphasized, "The other party has no martial ethics whatsoever; this isn't a martial arts contest. Moreover, moving to the Warner Hotel isn't just for security reasons."

"Post-production for 'Enter the Dragon' has fully commenced, and you will need to personally oversee the dubbing and editing processes."

Living next to the film studio saves me the risk of commuting every day and also greatly improves work efficiency.

"And there's Sly and Renee," he continued. "The Rocky project is about to start, and Warner Bros.' top management meeting could be held at any time."

"Slay, if you really want to win over the male lead, the upcoming negotiations will be very difficult, and you'll need to be on standby at any time."

"Renée too, there's a very important female character in this show—Adrian, I want you to audition. Living there, you'll be closer to the opportunity than any of your competitors."

Bruce Lee glanced at the young Renee and George beside him, then at the good-natured Sylvester Stallone, and the murderous intent in his eyes slowly subsided.

"Okay." He nodded. "Whatever you say. We'll move to the hotel, make a good movie, and use the box office to slap those Japanese in the face!"

"And what about you, boss?" Stallone asked. "Are you coming with us?"

Qin Han smiled and said, "I'll go over later. It'll be easier for me to act when I'm alone and less of a target."

"I need to go back to Chinatown immediately to find Zhou Ruofei; the security company's setup needs to be set up. I also need to go to Universal Pictures to keep an eye on the progress of Spielberg's 'Great White Shark' project."

After the meeting ended, everyone began packing their luggage separately.

Qin Han went to the mailroom and dialed Fred's number.

"Hey, Qin! I heard you're back?" Fred's voice sounded excited on the other end of the phone. "I was just about to tell you some good news. Ashley has given his consent regarding Rocky—"

"We'll talk about that later, Fred," Qin Han interrupted him. "There's something urgent right now. I need you to book several of the best suites at the Sheraton Hotel for a long-term stay. Master and Sly need to move in tonight."

"Tonight? So soon?" Fred sensed something was wrong. "What happened?"

"We've run into some trouble; someone wants us dead. We'll discuss the details when we meet." Qin Han didn't elaborate further. "Also, besides the room, I'd like to ask you for a favor."

"You said, as long as I can do it."

"I need to see General Bill and get a bunch of stuff." Tell him it's the old man from Hawaii's idea.

"A guy?" Fred paused, his voice trembling slightly. "You mean—one of those fire-breathing 'guys'?"

"Yes. Military-grade body armor, automatic rifles, and shotguns would be even better."

"My God—Qin, what are you trying to do? Are you going to start a small war on Hollywood Boulevard?"

"No, Fred." Qin Han's fingers tightened slightly around the microphone. "I just want to make sure that if anyone tries to get back at me, I can send all those bastards who dare to kick down the door to hell."

Fred's voice, filled with gritted teeth, came from the other end of the phone: "Damn it—give me half an hour, I'll get it arranged!"

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