Imagine this: cornered step-by-step by relentless creditors, a weak, pitiful, helpless victim sheds tears, casts aside their dignity, and begs bitterly, only to be denied any quarter. Under escalating interest rates, even selling off their family property, peddling their organs, and selling their children cannot pay off that mountainous debt. In the end, destitute in the streets, they cry out with their dying breath—what a tear-jerking tragedy, what an infuriating injustice.
Better yet, toss in some violent debt collection. Yes, let a few people die, preferably youths or small children, with photos or videos if possible.
That way, one could naturally use it as a foundation to whip up a brand-new storm. Countless people were already rubbing their palms together, eager to jump into the fray, swarming like piranhas to gnaw the whale calf down to bare bone.
When a whale falls, all life flourishes.
Truly a virtue, a scenic spectacle, a delightful piece of news.
Pity was, the story had barely begun before it ground to a halt.
It was as though a humble serf begged a landlord for a few days of grace to get through the New Year, only for the landlord to wave a generous hand: *Bah, what's the big deal? I told you, pay whenever you feel like it. Oh, right, the New Year is almost here. Take these two bags of rice, and grab half a slab of pork on your way out so the kids get some meat—*and from then on, everyone lived happily ever after.
Was that right?
Could that possibly be how it worked?
Stories weren't written like this!
Where was the tension? Where was the conflict? Without a villain and without a struggle, how was the grand epic supposed to continue? How was I supposed to cash in on my screentime?
For a moment, gazing upon that gentle, serene face, it was not just Feng Yao; everyone stood frozen in bewilderment, staring at one another.
It was simply unbelievable.
Even the energetic youth who had planned to pull out a blood-written petition and wail uncontrollably before the reporter's camera next door froze in awkward embarrassment, glancing subconsciously at Feng Yao.
*Wait, how am I supposed to play along with this? Why isn't he following the script?*
*He changed his lines!*
"...R-Really?"
In the prolonged silence, Feng Yao's expression stiffened. Suspicious, he watched the debt collector's face, hesitating.
"What else? Are we supposed to force you to sell your sons and daughters?"
The debt collector looked amused. "Haian is a legitimate enterprise. We pay our taxes and abide by the law. How could we possibly resort to violent collection? I came here merely to deliver a notice. We're hardly going to hold a knife to someone's throat for money, are we?"
"Then... then why—"
Feng Yao swallowed hard, glancing at the fully armed soldiers outside, loaded with live ammunition, unable to comprehend.
*You brought an entire crew equipped to raid a compound just to deliver a notification slip? Isn't that taking things a bit far?*
"Oh, that—those were our boss's orders."
The collector gave a simple, honest smile. "Haian has always put people first. No matter when or where, the safety and lives of our employees come before everything else. Things have been chaotic outside the city lately, so those of us heading out must strictly follow regulation. Besides, if the debt could be settled, wouldn't it be convenient to escort the payment back together?"
Feng Yao snapped to attention, nodding like a woodpecker.
*So that's how it is, that's how it is! You're absolutely right!*
At least that was how he acted on the surface. What he thought in his heart was an entirely different matter.
Just as his mind raced, however, he suddenly heard the collector speak again: "Right, there's one more thing—"
In an instant, everyone froze.
Feng Yao's heart leaped into his throat, his eyes going wide.
The real meat of the drama was finally here.
A surge of exhilaration and anticipation rose within him: *It's Haian after all. After putting on an act for so long, you finally couldn't hold back, could you? Come on, show your true colors...*
Then he saw the collector's expression fill with inescapable wistfulness as he shook his head helplessly.
He sighed up at the ceiling.
"To tell the truth, it's not just you. Life outside the city isn't easy for anyone. Everyone's been having a rough time lately, and Haian's good days have come to an end, too."
He lamented with a sigh, "You heard about that business with the water ghosts during the rainy season, right? So many pirates surging toward Haizhou in a black wave. Xinquan bore the brunt of it and suffered catastrophic losses. The entire factory district was smashed to pieces. Now production still hasn't resumed, while expenses are climbing higher and higher. To be frank with you, we're already insolvent."
As if finding a kindred spirit over drinks, he seized Feng Yao's hand and began pouring out his grievances. "Haian's current predicament is truly beyond words. We're scraping by on whatever debts we can recover, and many of our assets are already being liquidated. You might have heard—just yesterday, in order to rebuild the workshops, the boss even sold off the tricycle assembly line to someone else—"
That suffocating aura of sorrow, grief, and heartbreak felt so painfully familiar.
This exact moment was an uncanny mirror of his own performance just moments before.
Caught in a daze, Feng Yao felt a sudden flare of fury—*You bastard, you're using my own tricks against me?!*
*Who doesn't know how to cry poor?!*
*Come on then, let's weep together! Let's see who can out-cry who!*
*Today, I'll show you what the legendary deadbeat king of the wasteland is made of!*
In the gloom of the conference room, Feng Yao burst into tears once more, babbling endless grievances. When they reached the most heart-wrenching parts, he could not resist wrapping his arms around the collector, both of them sobbing on each other's shoulders.
Cry! Why not?
Tears were cheap.
Once he survived today, he would immediately tally up his property, pack his valuables, transfer his assets, and prepare to flee. Who gave a damn about you then!
"Brother, it hasn't been easy on you either," Feng Yao choked out, gripping the collector's hands tightly. "Don't worry. Haian hasn't let me down, and I will never let Haian down! Our hearts beat as one with Haian! As long as we get through these days, nothing matters more. Once the autumn plowing is over, I'll lead my people straight to Haian to screw bolts on the line!"
"Oh, there's no need for that."
The collector shook his head in polite refusal, leaving Feng Yao briefly bewildered. "You might not have heard me clearly just now. We've already begun offloading assets. Aside from the tricycle and motorcycle production lines, there are also debt relationships. Forced by the situation, many uncollectible debts can only be bundled together and sold off at a bargain."
Caressing Feng Yao's calloused hands, he admired his stunned expression and spoke with earnest gravity. "Thank you for your concern, but I won't be coming back next time."
He smiled faintly. "May our paths cross again if fate allows."
"What?" Feng Yao was stunned.
"Come, everyone is here today, so allow me to make an introduction—"
The collector stood and gestured toward the middle-aged man beside him, who had been smoking in silence the entire time. "This is Mr. Zhu, the representative from Wanli Finance, which intends to acquire your debt. Mr. Zhu, this is Mr. Feng Yao."
Mr. Zhu puffed on his cigarette and gave a casual, subtle nod. Through the curling smoke, he cast a glance at Feng Yao.
Then he looked away coldly.
Utterly indifferent.
That look—
It sent a bone-chilling shiver down Feng Yao's spine.
It was like looking at a slab of meat sitting on a chopping board, searching for where to bring down the blade—
Wait, Wanli Finance? Which Wanli? He seemed to recall hearing that name before... wasn't it the investment arm subordinate to the Xingzhou Group? The one from Yacheng?
Then didn't that mean—
In that split second, Feng Yao plunged into an icy abyss.
*The Wild Gathering!!!!*
"What do you think, sir?" the collector asked, turning back to Mr. Zhu.
Mr. Zhu snubbed out his cigarette and nodded. "Acceptable. No problem."
The collector's demeanor grew even warmer. "Shall we sign the contract, then?"
Mr. Zhu nodded.
"Wait!"
Feng Yao rose instinctively, trying to stop them. "Wait a moment—"
Yet no one paid him any mind.
In fact, no one cared in the slightest.
Right on that battered table in the settlement, the collector pulled a stack of documents from his briefcase—two identical copies—along with a signing pen.
Signatures on pages six, nine, and ten; thumbprints on the appendix; stamps applied; and finally an official cross-page seal across the margins.
The handover was lightning-fast and smooth as flowing water.
It looked as though they had rehearsed it countless times before.
After affixing the final stroke, Mr. Zhu slowly rose and shook hands. "A pleasure doing business with you."
"Pleasure, absolute pleasure," the collector smiled warmly. "Before I set off, Manager Gou told me that Mr. Zhu is a man of brisk action!"
"You're too kind. Brother Mao instructed that Mr. Ji's affairs are his affairs, and Mr. Ji's requests are to be carried out strictly according to Boss Chen's orders."
The normally impassive Mr. Zhu offered a rare smile to the collector. "Once this busy spell passes, I'll host a banquet to celebrate."
"Sounds good, sounds good."
With the formalities concluded, the collector blew on the fresh ink, slipped the contracts into his briefcase, and picked it up. "Then I won't disturb you any longer. I still have two more notices to deliver."
"Take care." Mr. Zhu saw him off, escorting the guest to the door like a host.
The collector cast one last look back at the dazed crowd, and at Feng Yao, whose face had gradually drained of all color as though he finally understood everything. The collector bared his teeth in one final grin.
He waved farewell.
"See you around, gentlemen."
*Well, assuming we ever see each other again, that is.*
As the collector departed and the armored vehicle rumbled out of sight, the atmosphere throughout the settlement grew increasingly suffocating, sinking into a deathly gloom.
The very same crowd that had dared to rise up and resist Haian's armed recovery team moments ago now couldn't help shrinking back as they watched that solitary, unarmed man walk toward them step by step.
Amid the dead silence, Mr. Zhu returned to the head seat and flipped open his silver cigarette case once more. The crisp, resounding click of his lighter echoed out, causing everyone's eyelids to twitch frantically.
*Whoosh—*
Beneath the pale sunlight streaming through the window, curling smoke drifted upward, obscuring his face.
"Speak up. Lay out a plan."
Mr. Zhu glanced at the shivering Feng Yao and suddenly smiled. "Don't worry, Mr. Chen is a reasonable man. If you have difficulties, he will certainly understand.
"I imagine he's also very curious to know—"
Mr. Zhu swept his gaze over those pale, blank faces, his smile turning sickeningly chilling. "What kind of brave heroes have the guts to default on debts owed to the Wild Gathering?"
*Gulp...*
In the dead silence, only the sound of swallowed spit remained.
It was piercingly loud.
Looking into those utterly joyless eyes, Feng Yao's expression twitched violently. At this moment, only a single question remained in his mind:
*If I want to pay up right now, is it still in time?*
***
"—Aiya, it's too late."
"The boss went to Yacheng today. I'm truly sorry—"
"Apologies, our company's policy is to never interfere with our members' personal lives. Phone calls during off-hours are strictly forbidden. Yes, even for the boss. Tomorrow? Tomorrow is Saturday. We will pass the message along on Monday—"
"I will convey it for you, yes. You may contact his personal assistant. Ms. Isis can book an appointment for you. Next year? Well, there's truly nothing to be done about that then. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
"Repaying the debt? Apologies, that service is currently closed. There's nothing we can do, we really can't get in touch with him. Why don't you wait a while longer?
"Aiya, that's just too much! How could they do such a thing?!
"Rest assured, as soon as the boss returns, I will speak to him immediately—next time for sure!"
Inside the newly constructed office, the newly appointed General Manager of Courier Logistics—Manager Gou—hung up another call from a settlement and promptly forgot the tearful accusations on the other end.
He looked down, checking another payment transferred from Wanli Finance on his screen, and took a blissful sip of tea from his enamel mug.
Turning around, he looked out the window at the dust rising from construction sites beneath the scorching sun, his face breaking into an ear-to-ear grin.
Their enterprise was flourishing, truly booming by the day!
The boss really had his ways!
Haian was a legitimate enterprise. How could they possibly engage in violent debt collection? Besides, weren't there professionals right nearby?
Selling such a massive bundle of bad debt over to the Wild Gathering had solved the problem in a few swift strokes, sending funds rushing back in wave after wave. Wow, the balance sheets were looking far more comfortable now.
The tight financial situation—originally strained by the expansion of Xinquan, the upfront investments for the shipyard, and the workshop's furnace-like burn rate and bottomless demand for capital—was vastly relieved.
Weren't things just getting better and better?!
As for those settlements that didn't want to pay, didn't want to die, and didn't want to work in the factories screwing bolts—once they fell into the hands of the Wild Gathering, whether they were wined and dined, beheaded, or broken into obedient dogs had nothing to do with Haian.
They were running an honest business!
With the end of the rainy season, during the months when Director Ji was "falling ill from overwork" and "recuperating from sickness," the growth of Haian Industries had advanced like wildfire.
Current sales had broken beyond the borders of Haizhou, exporting to the Thousand Islands and the Mid-Continent. Tricycles and tractors were even being sold to the Red States, earning universal praise. Even the Priest King remarked after tilling the fields that this contraption was far more useful than a harrow!
The market was visibly opening up, making it the perfect time to strike while the iron was hot.
Since work had resumed, everyone from top to bottom—from the office clerks down to the factory floor workers—virtually every breathing soul was pulling double wages and bonuses, worked like nuclear-powered donkeys. Manpower was stretched to the absolute limit.
At a critical juncture like this, there was no need to show mercy to those trying to play petty tricks on Haian.
If you refused to follow the rules of legitimate business, then you would abide by the rules of the Wild Gathering.
Chen Xingzhou had been fretting over how to expand his influence and widen the reach of Yacheng's Wild Gathering. He naturally wouldn't pass up these dogs offering themselves on a silver platter. He didn't even blink when paying the bill, immediately deploying his grown godchildren and adopted kin to find them gainful employment.
Meanwhile, Courier Logistics received backing from Haizhou's two largest central cities, Yacheng and Chaocheng, earning far more green lights than anticipated.
Naturally, more and more people joined the venture along the way. Ji Jue cared nothing for the minor dilution of shares and welcomed all comers. Thus, buoyed by widespread support and investment, the once-modest coverage network began to relentlessly expand and grow.
If the original transport arteries linking the two central cities and the seven smaller towns were main arteries, then the countless tiny root systems spreading out were like capillaries beyond those vessels, creeping across the wasteland and weaving into numerous small towns, villages, and settlements...
Out across the wasteland now, the myriad settlements and villages resembled scattered points of light, their links to one another as fragile as gossamer threads.
A single gust of wind was enough to make those dots teeter and shred the threads to pieces. Yet, woven together by settlement folk and scavengers, they miraculously reconnected in unforeseen ways.
Catalyzed by Courier Logistics and legions of small tricycles, the speed of this reconnection was absurdly fast, exhibiting an eccentric brand of resilience and stability.
Thus, a bizarre situation arose in Haizhou.
Since ancient times, the relationship between Tianyuan and White Stag had always been zero-sum; when one waxed, the other waned. Yet as Haian Industries and Courier Logistics expanded, both Tianyuan and White Stag were somehow winning across the board.
After the final torrential storm, the entirety of Haizhou seemed to burst with vibrant life.
From the City Hall and Governor's Mansion in the metropolises down to the settlement dwellers and scavengers in the wasteland—and every citizen and worker connected to them in between—everyone's days were getting better!
Including Ji Jue, who had mysteriously broken his leg more than a dozen times in the Xinxiang Sanatorium and basically lain his way to MVP...
After reviewing the medical chart, Doctor Xie finally made a sweeping stroke of his pen and signed his name:
"Discharged!"
Chapter 464