APR 3

The Jiu Zhong Society’s operations spanned a wide range, with eight different branches each handling distinct businesses. Collecting protection fees was merely a small fraction of their activities.

In reality, the organization’s most lucrative enterprise—the Crown Casino—stood prominently on the busiest entertainment street in Yan Port.

When Chen Huan’s motorcycle pulled up at the casino’s back entrance, they could see Li Zhaodong, Wen Xiong’s right-hand man, waiting for them on the steps, cigarette in hand.

Li Zhaodong took a drag and greeted Chen Huan, “Chen Huan, you’re a bit late. Wen Sheng is already inside waiting for you.”

He was a middle-aged man with a rough, thuggish appearance and weathered skin. Though senior in the society, he often looked out for the younger members.

Chen Huan: “Uncle Dong, long time no see.”

“You little rascal, you’ve got some nerve saying that. A whole month without showing your face, just sending your lackeys over with two crates of booze to shut me up. Trying to drink me to death?” Li Zhaodong feigned anger, giving Chen Huan’s arm a light slap.

Then his gaze shifted to Zhong Su. “But Wen Sheng only called for you. Why did you bring A Su along?”

Chen Huan grinned. “Su Er’s usually too quiet. I figured I’d bring him around more often to get some face time with Wen Sheng and build up his courage.”

Zhong Su remained composed, his posture straight as an unsheathed dagger. Only when addressed did he offer a slight, respectful nod. “Hello, Uncle Dong.”

“Not bad.” Li Zhaodong had a soft spot for polite youngsters. Holding his cigarette, he gestured approvingly toward Zhong Su. “A Su, you’re loyal and know your place. Why stick with Chen Huan? Come work under me instead—Chen Huan’s got plenty of talented guys around him, so moving up won’t be easy. I’m different; I could really use someone capable. When I retire, my spot will be yours.”

Just as Zhong Su opened his mouth to respond, a calloused hand covered his ear. He instinctively turned his head and saw Chen Huan’s sharp profile—lips curved, brows raised, radiating arrogance.

“Uncle Dong, don’t fill Su Er’s head with nonsense. If he takes you seriously and runs off to your side, what am I supposed to do?”

Chen Huan’s dark eyes fixed on Li Zhaodong, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “If that happens, you’ll have to find a way to compensate me with another Zhong Su.”

“Ah, can’t you take a joke? Now you’re trying to scare your elder.” Li Zhaodong coughed several times, choked by the smoke.

He waved a hand dismissively. “No sense of humor. Follow me, I’ll take you to see Wen Sheng.”

The Crown Casino’s back entrance was reserved for staff only, and Wen Xiong’s office was located on the third floor.

As Zhong Su followed the two men up the stairs, he glanced down at the main hall—a dazzling spectacle of gold and luxury. Gamblers with bloodshot eyes frantically shouted “Raise! Raise!”, veins bulging on their temples as they stared obsessively at their cards, their expressions bordering on madness.

Li Zhaodong took a deep drag and let out a soft, contemptuous snort. “Don’t be fooled by their fancy appearances. Before dawn breaks, at least half of these people will have lost every last coin for their bus ride home.”

He led them to a heavy, solid door and pushed it open. “Wen Sheng, I’ve brought them.”

Wen Xiong’s office was equally opulent, adorned with exquisite handmade carpets and a display cabinet filled with imported liquors and crystal glasses.

Wen Xiong himself was sunk into the massive leather sofa at the center of the room. He appeared to be around fifty, with a short, stout build and a pair of smiling eyes that always seemed to squint when looking at others.

At first glance, anyone would take him for a genial businessman, but upon closer inspection, one could glimpse a hidden, predatory coldness in those smiling eyes.

Yet the most striking figures were the two men seated to the left of the sofa.

One of them was the society’s Double Flower Red Pole, Chang She. His usually sinister face, which often wore a venomous, sneering smile, was now mostly wrapped in white bandages, revealing only his bruised, swollen eye sockets and cracked lips.

One of his arms was in a sling, and he was hissing through his teeth, like a venomous snake with its spine crushed.

Sitting right beside Chang She was Uncle Hui—Wen Xiong’s most trusted elder and senior figure. His head was also wrapped in bandages, his face deathly pale, his lips trembling. None of his usual cunning and authority remained; only the sheer terror of someone completely broken.

Zhong Su’s brow twitched slightly as he realized: the task assigned tonight was likely no easy one.

The room was filled with high-ranking members of the society. He and Chen Huan were the last to arrive, and over a dozen pairs of eyes fell upon them.

Wen Xiong rose to greet Chen Huan and Zhong Su, his tone warm. “You’re here? Chen Huan, oh, and Zhong Su too. I almost forgot—you two are so close, always moving together.”

Zhong Su lowered his head slightly and replied calmly, “Wen Sheng always looks out for us younger ones.”

Chen Huan asked, “Wen Sheng, what are your orders?”

Wen Xiong narrowed his eyes into a smile that didn’t reach them, then lifted his chin and addressed the group. “Good. Now that everyone is here, let’s get down to business.”

He gestured toward the disheveled pair on the sofa, his tone as steady as if discussing the weather, yet his words dripped with menace. “As you can see, Uncle Hui and Chang She are injured. Three hours ago, a group of kids calling themselves the ‘Zero Gang’ ambushed them on Zhengping Road and beat them like this with baseball bats.”

“Now the society needs people who can handle this. Two tasks: first, track down every single one of those kids who took part. Second, teach them the rules: anyone who dares lay a hand on someone from the Jiu Zhong Society will pay in blood.”

At that moment, Chang She struggled to lift his head from the sofa. Though his words were slurred, the venomous hatred and fury in his voice were unmistakable. “Hah… Wen Sheng, you must… get revenge for us. Those reckless little brats… How dare they act so high and mighty over us? We should chop off their hands, mince them into meat, and feed them to the dogs!”

Zhong Su thought to himself: A small, disorganized gang daring to provoke a major society like the Jiu Zhong Society, and even targeting high-ranking members in an ambush—if they weren’t backed by someone powerful and acting outrageously bold, then they were simply foolish beyond belief, with a death wish.

He instinctively glanced toward Chen Huan beside him, just as the other’s gaze met his. The handsome, sun-tanned young man curled his lips into a wild, indifferent smirk.

Zhong Su could tell that Chen Huan had little interest in the matter and couldn’t be bothered to waste energy dealing with a few reckless kids who didn’t know their place.

To the high-ranking members, this incident was a slap in the society’s face—a matter that demanded bloodshed. But in truth, it was just a bunch of hot-headed youths stirring up trouble, only this time, they had gone too far and crossed the Jiu Zhong Society.

After Wen Xiong finished stating his demands, the office briefly fell into silence, with no one responding immediately.

“Hmph, every one of you shrinks back when it comes to taking action—utterly spineless!”

At that moment, the ever-showboating Chuan Bao stepped forward, casting a disdainful glance at his colleagues before declaring arrogantly, “Wen Sheng, the Zhengping Road area happens to be under my jurisdiction. If you trust me, I’ll take my men right now and teach those Zero Gang brats a lesson—avenge Uncle Hui and Chang She.”

Wen Xiong smiled gently, raising a hand to pat Chuan Bao’s cheek lightly, his expression unreadable. “Oh? You want to handle this, Chuan Bao? I hadn’t realized you were so eager.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t intend to assign this matter to you. Instead, there’s something else I’d rather have you do.”

“But Wen Sheng—” Before Chuan Bao could argue further, Wen Xiong’s smile vanished in an instant, replaced by sheer ferocity as he backhanded his arrogant subordinate across the face. “Shut your damn mouth! Uncle Hui and Chang She ran into trouble on your turf, and you knew nothing about it. How dare you boast about helping me?”

Struck squarely by the slap, Chuan Bao stumbled and fell to the floor.

He looked up in shock, only to see Wen Xiong lift his foot and mercilessly stomp on his chin.

“Aaaah—!” Chuan Bao let out a piercing scream, clutching his rapidly bruising chin with both hands. He writhed and rolled on the ground like a fish scalded by fire.

“You useless fool, incapable of success and only good at causing failure,” Wen Xiong cursed as he kicked him relentlessly. “If you can’t even handle the simplest tasks, you don’t belong in the Jiu Zhong Society. Go beg on the streets with a bowl.”

At this moment, Wen Xiong had completely shed his mild-mannered businessman facade, his actions radiating the pure, ruthless aggression of a seasoned gangster.

The only sound echoing through the office was that of the beating. Everyone watched the scene unfold in silence; no one spoke up to plead for Chuan Bao. Such was life in the underworld—those who failed to bring value to the organization were inevitably cast aside.

Soon, blood gushed from the corner of Chuan Bao’s mouth, soaking into the golden-threaded carpet like some venomous pattern spreading relentlessly.

Zhong Su pursed his lips uncomfortably. Even though he had witnessed such scenes more than once, he still felt a deep revulsion toward such blatant violence and the law of the jungle.

Beside him, however, Chen Huan remained utterly unfazed, not even blinking. Instead, he crossed his arms and watched Chuan Bao’s suffering with keen interest.

Zhong Su averted his gaze. Chen Huan was someone who reveled in violence by nature—unmoved by bloodshed, unlike himself.

With one final, brutal kick to Chuan Bao’s ribs, Wen Xiong sent him sliding half a meter across the floor. Chuan Bao curled up like a shrimp, arms wrapped around his head, his skin covered in bruises and bloodstains without a single patch left unmarked.

Catching his breath, Wen Xiong accepted a handkerchief handed to him by an underling and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

His gaze then shifted to Chen Huan’s face, and a remarkably warm smile spread across his features as he slung an arm over Chen Huan’s shoulder. “Chen Huan, among the younger generation, you’re the most skilled, the most efficient, and the most reliable. Can I trust you to find those kids and teach them some manners?”

His words were light, but the pressure of his hand on Chen Huan’s shoulder carried a clear warning: If you fail at this, what happened to Chuan Bao will be your fate as well.

Chen Huan cast a careless glance at the bloodied man on the ground, then swept his gaze past Wen Xiong before letting out a light chuckle. He licked his sharp canine teeth and said, “Wen Sheng, rest assured and leave it to me. I’ll handle it properly, guaranteed to satisfy you.”

“Very good. Young men should have this kind of momentum,” Wen Xiong nodded approvingly, giving him two heavy pats. “Come report to me after you’ve dealt with the Zero Gang.”

Waving over Li Zhaodong while smiling genially, he added, “There’s nothing else for now. The elder uncles will stay. Chen Huan, you and Zhong Su may leave. Ah Dong, see them out.”

Li Zhaodong: “Received, Wen Sheng.”

The two walked out of the Crown Casino. Chen Huan inserted the key into the ignition and swung his leg over the motorcycle.

He tilted his head, expression calm. “Su Er, you head back first. I’ll bring supper home after I’m done. What would you like—crab roe noodles or congee?”

Zhong Su watched Chen Huan straddle the motorcycle, the night deepening the sharp lines of his silhouette. His broken eyebrow lent him a wild, untamed air, and when expressionless, he looked cold and fierce, like a black panther ready to pounce on its prey.

“You’re going alone?” Zhong Su disapproved, climbing onto the motorcycle behind him and wrapping his arms around Chen Huan’s waist. “I’m coming with you to find them. Any objections?”

Chen Huan glanced sideways at Zhong Su’s fair face, where the warm streetlamp light cast a delicate shadow beneath the young man’s eyelashes. He smiled. “How could I object? You’re more than welcome.”

Chen Huan twisted the throttle, and the motorcycle surged forward, wind rushing against their faces.

“Where do you plan to start looking?” Zhong Su didn’t believe they could miraculously find anyone by wandering around aimlessly.

Chen Huan curled his lips. “I’ve never even heard of the ‘Zero Gang’ before, no idea where these little punks came from. So first, we need to ask Old Gui about their background.”

Hearing this, Zhong Su knew Old Gui ran a pawnshop—the area’s biggest fence for stolen goods. All the small-time crooks with sticky fingers went to him to offload their loot, and the police frequently questioned him about the whereabouts of thieves they urgently needed to find. Essentially, he had a foot in both the underworld and the legitimate world, making him the most well-informed source for gossip. Asking him about the Zero Gang was definitely the right move.

Zhong Su raised an eyebrow, his eyes filled with resignation. “But didn’t you just beat Old Gui into the hospital last time? Will he honestly answer us?”

Chen Huan shrugged indifferently. “If he refuses to talk, it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t mind breaking his fingers again.”