Are They Rich Enough?

Boss Dao's headquarters was located in the Third District. At that moment, from tall buildings and street corners near and far, countless eyes were watching the courtyard gate. According to what Ao Yong and Qian Daofeng had said earlier, Boss Dao's reputation in the Third District wasn't particularly good—at least, he couldn't be counted as a good person. For instance, most of the shops on this street, including the tobacco shop and the noodle joint, had tabs he had run up and subsequently forgotten to pay. Two years ago, during the freelance band's poorest period—when many of the brothers could barely afford to eat—he had even set up a bowl in the street to collect road tolls. ...It was collecting tolls, absolutely not begging. Ao Yong had explained that while the scene had looked suspiciously like begging, it was genuine extortion: if you didn't pay, you couldn't pass, and the shops couldn't open their doors. Nor was he nearly as fearless as he seemed right now or when he was hunting Great Spikes. He had stood people up for arranged fights more times than anyone could count. The sycophantic display he put on in front of real heavyweights was also greasy in the extreme. Furthermore, according to Zhe Qiuhong, during his final pre-op checkup that morning, when she had gestured with a scalpel to explain the general procedure, Boss Dao had trembled violently on the spot and nearly burst into tears. He had also insisted on general anesthesia—deep general anesthesia. He was simply that kind of person. After thirty years of clawing through the underworld, he had never made much of a name for himself; otherwise, he wouldn't be mingling on friendly terms with bottom-feeders like Ao Yong and Qian Daofeng. Aside from sheer dumb luck, the man's sole virtue was probably that when life and death were on the line, he always looked out for his brothers. In the courtyard, seeing that Boss Dao's mind was made up, Filio had no choice but to lead the band's dozen or so core members and follow along. "Don't! Don't come along! It's useless for you guys to follow, and it might just start a fight the moment we show our faces. Don't worry, nobody will say you're disloyal... There isn't much loyalty in this place anyway." *But I want to show some loyalty,* Boss Dao thought. He blew out a heavy breath and said, "Look, if I don't make it back today, even if you break up later and scatter everywhere, remember to look out for one another." "I'm off!" Without giving Filio and the others a chance to speak again, Boss Dao threw out the words and strode forward. He intended to demand their release on his own. If bowing his head and pleading would work, he planned to try pleading first. Wen Jifei, He Tangtang, and Zhu Jiaming fell in behind him without a word. Hearing their footsteps, Boss Dao turned his head to look at them, an impatient edge creeping into his gaze. "Those are our brothers," Zhu Jiaming said, eyes glistening with tears. *** The architectural style of the Eleventh District leaned Western, with church-like spires and bell towers visible every few hundred meters. When the car pulled up, Han Qingyu knew he had probably come to the right place. The Shelvey Band's headquarters before them was clearly leagues beyond Boss Dao's compound. Over there was just a ramshackle courtyard with no merits other than its size, whereas this was a sprawling six-story building—fairly new, and large enough to house a shopping mall. "Is this the place?" Han Qingyu asked from the back seat. Liu Lang nodded slightly, not daring to nod too vigorously with a blade at his throat. *Should I try ramming the door, running, and shouting for help?!* Liu Lang thought frantically. *But his blade seems so fast...* "Let's get out of the car, then." As the voice sounded from the back seat, the weight on Liu Lang's shoulder suddenly vanished, along with the cold touch of dead iron against his neck. Han Qingyu pulled the blades away from Liu Lang and Jiva, pushed the door open, and stepped out with Wu Xu. Inside the car, Jiva and Liu Lang exchanged a look. Their assumption all along had been that these two intended to keep them hostage—holding blades to their throats as they went up to demand money and supplies from Shelvey and Soda, before taking them hostage once more to secure their escape. That would have been suicidal enough. Yet the turn of events defied their expectations once again... *So what the hell is this?* The two sat frozen in the car, staring at each other with bewildered eyes. "Get out," Han Qingyu urged, tapping on the car window. "Right." Liu Lang snapped to his senses and opened the door. Fine, if they insisted on marching up there to seek their own deaths, let them. Liu Lang and Jiva exchanged a look and took the lead. The Three-Band Alliance's headquarters spanned five floors, and they went all the way up to the fifth. People carrying maneuver gear and weapons came and went on the middle floors. Liu Lang and Jiva didn't utter a peep, walking past them placidly. The doors to the fifth floor were massive, resembling the entrance to a grand banquet hall in a luxury hotel. *Knock, knock!* Even though guards stood outside, Liu Lang still knocked and called out his name. "Enter!" came a voice from within. The double doors creaked and slowly swung open. Behind them lay a vast, open space without any partitions, stretching out in a single continuous expanse. Aside from four plain, whitewashed walls, there were only rough concrete pillars standing bare throughout the room. The entire space lacked any decoration, giving the impression of an assembly ground used before battle. Chairs were scarce, occupied by only a dozen or so people. Standing around them were roughly sixty or seventy men, each and every one fully armed. *Whoosh! Whoosh!* Having prepared themselves for this moment, Liu Lang and Jiva erupted with source energy simultaneously, darting through the entrance and into the room at top speed. They skidded to a halt, whirled around, and Liu Lang pointed toward the doorway. "Don't let them—" His sentence trailed off. The two had simply strolled in on their own. After entering, they even turned around of their own accord to help pull the doors shut. "Excuse me, which one is Shelvey?" Han Qingyu asked, looking around the room. Off to the side, two large armchairs sat in the center with two men seated upon them... One of them was bald with a full beard, holding a cigar, and gave Han Qingyu a nod. There really were a lot of bald heads in the City of Iniquity. No wonder Boss Dao insisted on keeping that little bit of hair. "I was tied up and brought here by them. Let me ask something—do you bosses know about this?" Han Qingyu's English was somewhat broken, but clear enough to be understood. Faced with such an imposing setup, Han Qingyu figured it definitely hadn't been prepared for them; they didn't command that kind of status yet. It was better to ask first. Shelvey gave a faint smile. Like Liu Lang, he couldn't quite grasp the logic behind this man's words... Nodding, he said, "I know... We happen to need a doctor, so she won't die." "That's great, then." Han Qingyu visibly breathed a sigh of relief, turning to whisper to Wu Xu, "Now we are entirely in the right." Wu Xu: "..." He had never seen Qingzi care about this before, especially when he wanted to rob someone... Yet here in the City of Iniquity of all places, he had suddenly begun to care. At the same time, Shelvey exchanged a glance with Soda, the other boss beside him. Behind them, their subordinates fanned out quietly, preparing to form a formation and strike. The situation was bizarre and felt quite different from what Liu Lang had described... Backing down was out of the question, but they couldn't afford to be careless. "So, you came here to..." Shelvey began again once they were ready. "We were kidnapped here." "..." Shelvey let out a bitter laugh. "And then?" "Twenty metal blocks. Pool them together, and we'll take them and leave," Han Qingyu said, flashing a peace sign. Shelvey's brow furrowed. At that moment, a low roar came from the side. "Seeking death!" A burly Caucasian man erupted with source energy, stepping sideways and sweeping his blade in a vicious horizontal slash. The attack carried immense power and speed, setting off a dull shockwave in the confined space. *The quality of this building is pretty good.* Right behind him, a vanguard formation of over thirty men surged forward to kill. Han Qingyu and Wu Xu remained rooted where they stood, not even turning their heads. Wu Xu simply reached out to draw his blade—drawing the blade over his right shoulder with his left hand, sweeping it through a smooth semicircle, and bringing it crashing down toward the lower left. *Smack!* It hadn't looked particularly fast, yet it connected. The flat of his blade struck square against the top of the man's head. *Bang!* The man's massive frame slammed into the floor, sending up a cloud of dust. The entire building seemed to shudder. *The quality of this building is really good.* Wu Xu raised his lowered blade once more, twisted his wrist, and pointed the tip directly at the oncoming vanguard formation, halting their advance in their tracks... He whispered to Han Qingyu, "Are they rich enough?" Over the past several days of discussion, this was the core question that Qingzi, Plague Chicken, and the Little Prince had been studying. "Should be decent," Han Qingyu whispered back. Turning to Shelvey, he held out a hand and said, "It's thirty blocks now. Want to keep going?"