"Fuck your mother! We all earned that money together, so why does this little brat get to take every last cent?"
Xu Jun wrenched Chen Yubo's head back and roared, "Old Lin, Chen Xingzhou is practically in his grave! What the hell are you stubbornly holding out for? Can you even pull it off?! Why can't we just take the money, split it up, and go our separate ways?!"
"No."
Tugging at the tablecloth, Uncle Lin wiped the blood from his hands, his face devoid of expression. "Money that belongs to you, you should take, and take with a clear conscience. But things that aren't yours are things you must never touch. Touch them even once, and you'll bring fire upon yourself, dying without a grave to call your own."
"Die your mother! I'll send this little bastard to see his brother right now!"
Seeing that there was no hope of survival, Xu Jun's face twisted into a ferocious scowl. He decisively pulled the trigger. "Eat shit, you fucker!"
Unfortunately, there was no deafening blast, nor any eruption of crimson.
Only the dry, hollow click of a jammed gun.
Click. Click.
He pulled the trigger frantically, but under Ji Jue's steady gaze, it was completely useless.
In the end, his frantic, terrified expression collapsed into pure, blank shock. Staring dumbly at Uncle Lin as the man closed the distance, the truth finally dawned on him.
He threw down the gun and gave a disdainful sneer, opening his mouth to speak, but a hand clamped tight around his throat.
An instant later, thick smoke and sparks erupted from his mouth and nostrils!
In the blink of an eye, a terrified, thrashing human being was incinerated to ashes in Uncle Lin's grip. A few wisps of flame flowed like slender streams into Uncle Lin's nose and mouth. His eyes were pitch-black, resembling a cavern leading straight down into a subterranean fiery pit, before a crimson gleam flashed and faded.
A moment later, he returned to normal.
Finally, his gaze shifted to Ji Jue.
"Those who can do more should do more. If you haven't had your fill yet, there's another one lying prone on the hill out back, aiming a camera straight at us," Ji Jue said, pointing in that direction with a sigh of admiration. "The resolution on that thing is pretty impressive, by the way."
Uncle Lin nodded, and his figure flickered away in an instant.
Dead silence fell over the room.
Everyone exchanged glances before looking toward Ji Jue. Since Ji Jue remained silent, none of them dared to make a sound either. Only Chen Yubo, who had just narrowly escaped death, sat sprawled in his chair, gasping frantically for breath.
He awkwardly wiped away the black ash that had settled over his clothes.
A few minutes later, Uncle Lin returned. In one hand, he carried a camera fitted with an absurdly massive lens; in the other, he held a phone whose casing was partially melted from heat.
Right before everyone's eyes, he placed them onto the table.
They struck the wood with a crisp clatter.
"Rest assured, everyone. Anyone harboring wicked intentions will meet a miserable end, but those who choose to stay are still brothers under one roof—we live together, die together, and share in wealth together. Once the boss returns, he will never mistreat his own people!"
For the first time since the meeting began, Uncle Lin broke into a smile, looking remarkably warm and gentle.
Still, as the saying goes, a painted cake cannot stave off actual hunger—not even if you fermented it into kvass. Having used the big stick to demonstrate the brutal consequences of treachery, it was time for the carrot and the sweet dates.
Uncle Lin clapped his hands, and an assistant wheeled in a service cart piled high with black cases.
Everyone who chose to remain received one. Even Ji Jue was handed a share, which felt extraordinarily heavy in his hands.
The sheer density made Ji Jue click his tongue in surprise.
They were all gold bars?
This was an astonishingly lavish gesture.
With real gold and silver serving as immediate encouragement alongside promises of future rewards, life suddenly seemed full of hope. Moreover, Uncle Lin had pledged that once the boss was discharged from the hospital, even if they couldn't continue doing business in Yacheng, they could easily make a comeback in the Thousand Islands.
The previously sagging morale rebounded at once.
Once the meeting drew to a close, the first to jump to his feet was Blondie, who seemed utterly oblivious to any sense of danger. Unlike the others, who had bellies full of schemes, his defining traits were being uneducated and dim-witted with a remarkably clear, naive gaze. Even now, his mouth was full of talk about loyalty and brotherhood, simpleminded to an absurd degree.
"Hey, that was badass, bro!"
He was the first to crowd over, beaming with enthusiastic curiosity. "How did you spot them? Are you some kind of hacker?"
"Just a little parlor trick. It wouldn't impress anyone once explained," Ji Jue replied with a dismissive wave and a smile. "When things actually get violent, we'll still have to rely on you guys."
"Aw, don't mention it! If anyone dares lay a finger on the boss's little brother, they'll have to go through me first!"
Blondie grinned broadly, pounding his chest with carefree laughter.
It was genuinely enviable.
Once Uncle Lin had seen off the business subordinates, he walked over and sat down beside Ji Jue. "How are you feeling, Mr. Ji?"
Ji Jue merely shook his head. "Your methods are still a bit tough for me to stomach."
Either decapitating people at the drop of a hat or burning them down to ash.
Terrifying.
Uncle Lin sighed. "Syndicates are like this. The White Stag is different from Tianyuan; when someone messes up, you can't just fire them and call it a day. Do wrong, and you have to bear the consequences."
"Can't do wrong if you don't do anything at all."
Ji Jue didn't take it to heart.
When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter. Anyone could see that Chen Xingzhou's ship was on the verge of sinking, so could anyone really expect people to sacrifice their lives out of unwavering loyalty? At a time like this, those who admitted their disloyalty were certainly disloyal, but those swearing their allegiance weren't necessarily faithful either.
They were all sly old foxes who had crawled out of the gutter; who would shed tears over ghost stories?
Out of ten people claiming they believed in the boss, eight or nine were simply paying lip service to buy time, waiting for Chen Xingzhou to draw his last breath before seamlessly transitioning to their next gig.
Chances were, some had already lined up their next employers.
More importantly...
"With so many people gone, are there really enough left?" Ji Jue raised his eyes toward the dining room. Aside from himself and Xiao An, the only Celestial Chosen who had stayed behind were A-Yi and Blondie.
A-Yi looked timid to a fault, utterly useless in a real fight. Blondie was the exact opposite—so naive he lacked any survival instinct.
If Lei Yaoxing truly showed his teeth, was protecting Chen Yubo supposed to rely on this ragtag bunch?
Seriously?
Uncle Lin, even if you were made of iron from head to toe, how many enemies could you possibly fight off?
Besides, what about Chen Xingzhou? Were you just going to leave him to fend for himself?
"Don't worry. Yubo's situation has little to do with the Wild Gathering. We just need to weather this storm. Besides, when it comes to bodyguards, quality matters far more than quantity.
"I've already called in outside help."
Uncle Lin glanced down at his watch. "Calculating the time, he should be arriving right about now."
Just as the words left his mouth, a cloud of dust billowed along the road leading up the mountain. A mud-splattered off-road vehicle came weaving and wobbling up the winding path toward the manor.
Ji Jue took a single glance and couldn't help shaking his head: a driver would need to down at least half a jin of hard liquor to drive that terribly.
Finally, the vehicle scraped past the iron gates by the skin of its teeth, drifted into a tail-slide, and skidded to a halt in front of the villa.
An empty liquor bottle was tossed out the window.
Then, a burly, swaying figure stepped out of the vehicle.
Although his skin was tanned dark by the sun, it was clear his natural complexion was quite fair. His emerald-green eyes carried obvious Empire traits, yet his brow bore some resemblance to people from the Federation. At the same time, his curly black hair, body ornaments, and the scimitar at his waist were entirely characteristic of the Mid-Continent.
He looked up and grinned at the people on the second floor.
Across his bared teeth were tattoos of various totems in the Thousand Islands style.
Ji Jue stared, utterly dumbfounded. What kind of unmatched mishmash was this?
So trendy—way too trendy. Trendy enough to be scary.
"Long time no see."
Waiting by the entrance, Uncle Lin took a deep breath and addressed him with a tone of helpless resignation: "Mr. Muhammad Wanyan Tombarovsky."
"Aiyee, we're all damn well acquainted, just call me Old Tom."
The stubbled, swaying middle-aged man clapped Uncle Lin on the shoulder. "Weren't we supposed to guard the hospital room? Why are we out here now? That's not what the contract said!"
Uncle Lin smiled. "This place has greater need of an expert like you to oversee things."
"Whatever. Watching a courtyard and watching a gate are both security gigs, so even if we don't start right away, the pay still counts! Meal allowances... cough, that gas allowance, high-temperature work pay, and injury-and-illness coverage—all of that needs to be factored in!"
As he spoke, he smacked his own forehead. "Night shift overtime is billed separately!"
"Rest assured, it's easy to discuss. Everything can be arranged."
With a smile, Uncle Lin ushered him inside and introduced him to Chen Yubo.
The moment Ji Jue and the man made eye contact, both froze, their expressions instantly stiffening.
Ji Jue was bewildered because, according to his perception, in just a few short minutes, the fluctuations of spiritus inside the man rose and fell like a stock market candlestick chart, utterly erratic. At its peak, it was frighteningly abundant, practically maxing out Tier 6 and stepping halfway into the Regeneration rank—the hallmark of an absolute powerhouse. But at its lowest, it didn't even match Ji Jue, a green Tier 2 novice, dwindling to almost nothing.
Meanwhile, the reason for the man's rigidity was that he had caught sight of... Xiao An, standing beside Ji Jue!
It was as though he had sensed something from the youth, and in an instant, every hair on his body stood on end!
*Holy shit, this is cursed!*
Old Tom rubbed his eyes, staring slack-jawed: *Didn't they say this was a simple house-guarding gig? How did I walk through the door and run straight into a brat from the House of An?! What the hell?!*
*What kind of respectable family keeps a White Stag hunter's kid lying around?!*
First came blank confusion, then shock, suspicion, and finally... a wave of vexation that Ji Jue recognized all too well.
He looked ready to beat his chest and stamp his feet in profound regret.
*Damn it, I undercharged!*
The moment he recovered his wits, he instinctively turned back. "Can I ask for more money?"
"Rest assured."
Uncle Lin's smile remained steady. "Once the boss returns, everything can be discussed."
*I believe you like I believe in ghosts!*
Yet things had already reached this point, the contract was signed, and he had even used his main account to accept the commission. Having unwittingly walked right into a trap, Old Tom had no way out.
After all, he had broken too many contracts in the past; his credit score was already hanging by a thread. If he botched this job too, his future would be ruined—forget next month, he wouldn't even be able to put food on the table tomorrow.
The helpless laborer had no choice but to accept his fate.
And demand more money.
Seemingly intent on channeling grief and indignation into an appetite, he hadn't stopped eating since sitting down. Like a starving ghost reincarnated, he single-handedly cleaned out two refrigerators. Had the cold storage not been amply stocked, everyone would have been forced to survive on takeout for the foreseeable future.
Still, his personality was fairly hearty and forthright, and before long, he had become familiar with everyone.
Gulping down liquor from the bottle, he spoke of his past exploits with glowing animation.
Fierce battles in the Mid-Continent, venturing deep into the Empire, breaking into a Federation prison... It all sounded remarkably vivid and detailed. Even if his name was obviously fake, his experience was undeniably vast.
He had done both the dirtiest and the most exhausting work. In his own words, a security detail like this was practically a vacation.
After all, without connections these days, money was hard to come by—especially for mercenaries operating under the Swarm. Risking your life to earn funeral expenses was easy enough, but surviving to actually pocket the money was an art form.
Plum assignments like guarding oil fields were fought over viciously by the regular forces themselves; how could an outside drifter ever hope to get a piece? You wouldn't even get a spot in the shade against the wall.
Most of the time, Swarm mercenaries took the most brutal beatings, suffered the harshest setbacks, and earned the scantiest crumbs. In this era, an eleven- or twelve-year-old kid from the Mid-Continent could pick up a scavenged submachine gun and start taking contracts. Standard killing and arson required no professional barriers to entry; if you didn't want the job, there were plenty of chumps waiting in line.
It was no wonder Slan and his crew had treasured Young Master Lou like a precious jewel back then—jobs with that much pay and so few hassles were outrageously hard to find. Snagging a dependable, long-term patron like that was enough to feed an entire knight order for decades. Slan would rather lose his own head than let Young Master Lou lose his; otherwise, if the employer died, wouldn't the other knights tear him to pieces with their bare hands?
However, unlike Slan, who came from a legitimate Mid-Continent military unit taking freelance side gigs, Old Tom was a lone wolf.
People like him usually called themselves "Knight Errants."
Simply put, they were drifters of the Swarm, transient criminals in the eyes of the Empire and the Federation, occupying the very bottom of the Swarm's pecking order.
When making a living out there, whether you had a signature trick was beside the point; the main qualifications were dirty hands, thick skin, a black heart, and fast legs.
Old Tom claimed that his family had followed the Swarm for generations, that his ancestors had once been wealthy and prominent with their own knight order, but by his generation, the family fortunes had declined, and the past was too painful to recall.
"Back when my ancestors served the Eternal Dynasty, my great-great-great-grandfather was appointed Grand Marshal! That counts as high nobility, alright?!"
Whenever he boasted about his lineage, Old Tom spun dazzling tales that drew gasps of admiration from the simpleminded Blondie. Only Ji Jue couldn't bring himself to correct him—the Eternal Empire was an imperial cabinet system; they had never had a title called "Grand Marshal" from the very beginning...
Once they had finished getting acquainted, Uncle Lin returned with his assistant, wheeling over another cart.
"Here are the items you requested. Please see if they suffice."
Placed before Old Tom first were several heavy leather cases. When opened, they revealed row upon row of gleaming blades and swords, sharply honed and radiating spiritus.
Although they hadn't reached the exaggerated level of carrying blessings, the materials were solid and the craftsmanship meticulous; they were clearly authentic alchemical works of respectable completion.
Aside from Old Tom, everyone else received something as well.
For Blondie, it was a necklace mounted with a pigeon-egg-sized ruby whose spiritus fluctuated wild and hot, seemingly designed for ability amplification. For A-Yi, it was a pair of crystal prisms that refracted light into tens of thousands of gorgeous, shimmering specks.
For Xiao An, there was an entire case of alchemically treated daggers, clearly custom-crafted for throwing, their material far superior to ordinary iron blades bought off the rack.
Only when it came to Ji Jue was there nothing on the cart.
Uncle Lin simply led him to the underground garage and pushed open a long-locked door, revealing the space beyond.
"From what I understand, practitioners of the Embers path usually require certain supplementary tools. Would you see if these are adequate?"
"Uh, this..."
Ji Jue was stunned.
Behind the door, an array of equipment had already been laid out: from smelting furnaces to liquefaction reactors, probes, engraving benches, and all the most common processing tools, everything was provided.
Every piece was in near-mint condition, meticulously maintained and carefully serviced. Once calibrated, they would work even better than brand-new equipment.
Aside from lacking extraordinary, out-of-scale apparatuses like a workshop core or a spiritus furnace, it was practically equivalent to a modest workshop.
If Professor Ye or Brother Ball were standing here, they might have sneered at the sight, scoffing at such garbage soiling their eyes.
Yet the one standing here was Ji Jue.
To a penniless greenhorn who owned nothing, this suited his current skill level perfectly. Giving him high-end gear would only be a waste anyway; these were more than enough.
Not to mention the stock of raw materials, all neatly arranged according to standard specifications.
"Once this matter is concluded, none of these will be needed anymore," Uncle Lin said in a lowered voice, leaning close to his ear. "If it's convenient, you can simply help dispose of them."
"Uh, wait..."
Before Ji Jue could fully process the offer, he was stunned once more.
Then, a business card was slipped into his pocket. "In addition, if you have any other needs during this period, you only need to call this number and give your orders. As long as it can be found commonly on the market, there shouldn't be any issue."
"Uh, this... isn't this a bit too..."
Ji Jue put up a feeble show of reluctance before reluctantly stuffing it into his pocket.
"Do you have any other instructions?" Uncle Lin asked with a pleasant smile. "I will do my best to arrange everything for you."
"Isn't this a bit too generous?"
Ji Jue turned back, fixing his eyes on him. "I'm no professional. I'm just here as a mascot for the boss. If a fight breaks out and we're outmatched, I'll run. Please don't pin your hopes on me."
Uncle Lin shook his head firmly. "They are employees of Boss Chen. You are Yubo's friend. Naturally, it's different."
Ji Jue sighed.
Reaching out, he pulled the door shut. In the quiet behind the closed door, he pondered for a moment before finally asking, "Still, shouldn't such thorough arrangements be prioritized for Boss Chen instead?"
Uncle Lin answered without hesitation, "The boss has other arrangements. Besides, with his life currently hanging in the balance, it is hard to say what the future holds. In accordance with his previous orders, Yubo's safety takes absolute priority."
Ji Jue shook his head. "What's the angle?"
"Yubo is the boss's only family, his younger brother by blood. What angle could there possibly be?"
"What about you, then?"
Now that the words were out, Ji Jue had no reason to hold back. Everything he had witnessed today was simply too strange; on the surface it seemed reasonable, yet it constantly gave off a bizarre sense of defiance against common sense.
Whether it was the meeting that ostensibly rallied the troops but practically disbanded them, or these overly generous preparations, it all made him question Uncle Lin's true motives.
"Chen Xingzhou is lying in a hospital bed, unable to control his own life or death. Chen Yubo is indecisive, devoid of ambition, and his head is entirely filled with thoughts of how he'll raise his cat once he runs out of money. So what about you, Old Lin?"
Ji Jue asked bluntly, "As a follower of the White Stag, don't you have any other ideas at a time like this?"
"..."
Uncle Lin finally ceased smiling. Or rather, once the genial mask fell away, his true countenance was revealed: cold, tranquil, and completely unshakeable. His pitch-black pupils rested on Ji Jue, and after a long silence, the corners of his mouth seemed to hook upward.
"Please rest assured, Mr. Ji. I watched Yubo grow up. I've never married, and I have no children of my own. He is like my own nephew; I would never harm him.
"As for you, I know you don't wish to be entangled with the Wild Gathering. I can also promise that once this period passes and Yubo is safe, you won't face any trouble whatsoever.
"Even if these old bones of mine fail to hold out, I won't leave innocent bystanders trapped in the fire."
It sounded convincing enough—perhaps sincere, perhaps hypocritical—but Ji Jue didn't truly care. From the moment he chose to meddle in Chen Yubo's survival, he had already prepared himself to face the consequences.
At worst, I'll just wash my hands of this, walk away, and hide in the workshop without coming out. Lei Yaoxing, no matter how formidable or terrifying you are, come to Beishan District and take a bite out of me if you dare!
Do you understand the confidence that comes with having two golden thighs to lean on?
"And what about yourself?"
Finally, he asked once more, though it was no longer quite the same question.
"Me..."
In the brief silence, Uncle Lin let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "I've toiled for half my life, and I'm getting on in years. I have no ambition or grand ideals left to speak of. Counting them all up, I've served no fewer than eight or nine bosses—maybe eleven or twelve—and not a single one came to a good end.
"Such is the Path of the White Stag. Famous overnight, dead in the gutter the next.
"If I had to say, I suppose I just want to see things through from beginning to end."
Ji Jue said nothing more, watching in silence as Uncle Lin departed.
After a long while, he suddenly slapped his forehead as the realization struck him: *Oh shit, mystery solved!*
*Did you jinx Chen Xingzhou into the hospital?!*
***
"I've noticed that anyone who gets mixed up with you usually ends up with a rotten fate."
In the afternoon, outside Yacheng, at another remote dock.
Uncle Lin, who had been waiting for a long time, leaned against his car smoking a cigarette. Finally, a vehicle pulled up nearby, and a wizened, dried-up old man stepped out.
The moment they met, the old man threw a barrage of complaints straight at Uncle Lin.
With a full head of white hair, he yawned as if he hadn't slept in ages, his eyes bloodshot. Traces of blood still clung to his unwashed hair.
"Earning a bit of your damn money is truly a pain in the ass. At my age, having to work for so many hours straight... Chen Xingzhou still has a breath left in him, but I was practically sent to the grave by him."
The old man's steps were somewhat unsteady, as if dizzy; every two steps, he had to brace himself against the wall. "I've done everything I can. Don't blame me if anything else goes wrong. I'm not King Yama; I don't manage the Book of Life and Death."
"Thank you for your hard work, Doctor. Here is the agreed payment—double."
Uncle Lin signaled to the subordinate behind him to present the compensation, then pointed to an unremarkable boat moored behind them. "Everything has been arranged. You'll arrive in Chaocheng tonight."
"A doctor shouldn't say this, but I don't give a damn about medical ethics anyway, so bear with me."
The old man counted the money in the case and remarked casually, "Using that dose of panacea on him was a complete waste.
"That's top-grade stuff capable of keeping a high-tier Celestial Chosen clinging to life with a single injection. Wasting it on a mere mortal like him is an absolute insult to heaven.
"With his meager recovery capacity, even if backed by the technology from the 'hospital,' he'll scarcely survive the aftereffects. Even if he pulls through, he'll be a vegetable. God only knows when he'll ever wake up.
"I really don't understand what you're hoping to achieve."
"As long as he's alive, it's enough."
Uncle Lin smiled, his expression thoroughly relaxed. "As long as there is life, there is a future."
The old man paused, baffled. "Wait, you have that much faith in him?"
"It's not my faith in him. It's his faith in himself."
Uncle Lin lit a cigarette and exhaled a wisp of blue-gray smoke. "He once told me that a man's life must be held in his own hands. No one is allowed to take it from him.
"Now the chance to prove it has arrived..."
He paused briefly, gazing toward the massive city standing above the azure sea in the distance. "Let's see if he can pull it off."
Chapter 127