A genin who didn't want to become Hokage wasn't a good ninja, just as an apprentice who didn't want to become a master wasn't a good craftsman.
Likewise, a small-time thug who didn't want to become a Dragon Head wasn't a good gangster... Even if putting "good" in front of "gangster" sounded strange, wanting to be a Dragon Head was nothing to be ashamed of.
Within the Wild Gathering, it was practically gospel truth.
It was precisely because this ambition needed no disguise that the beasts of the Wild Gathering threw themselves into it without hesitation, relishing every bit of the brutal struggle and elimination.
Fight, rob, seize, kill, devour!
Devour, devour, devour—leap onto the table and spin in circles devouring!
There was no Tianyuan seniority or protocol here, only the law of the jungle. If someone below wanted to rise, the person above had to keep them down; fail to keep them down, and you fell into the dust, trampled underfoot as a stepping stone.
Ling Shuo wanted to be a Dragon Head.
He thought about it in his dreams, thought about it while working, thought about it even while fucking!
He thought about it every single second.
From a stinking beggar in Grey Port to the backbone of the syndicate, to Dragon Head Ling Liu's godson, and all the way to where he stood today...
From the moment he had willingly plunged into this dog-eat-dog world, Ling Shuo had understood: if you didn't trample others underfoot, you would be trampled under theirs.
If you couldn't stand on top, you were nothing more than a corpse-in-waiting.
The exalted rank of Chief was so impossibly distant as to be out of reach, but the seat of Dragon Head—if he exerted every ounce of strength in his lifetime, was it truly impossible to touch?
Even if there was only the slimmest sliver of a chance!
That was why he had come to the Seven Cities.
It was precisely because he had witnessed firsthand the prospects Ji Jue offered that he had been willing to gamble, abandoning everything to throw himself into Luo Island.
And the result? He went crazy.
Crazy rich!
He made so much it drove him mad, won so much he lost sleep, laughed until he pissed blood.
Who could have imagined that Ji Jue could truly take the entire Seven Cities in one fell swoop, in such a short span of time?
Ling Shuo hadn't even needed to do anything; all he had to do was wave the banner behind Mr. Ji and keep up, and territory and business fell into his lap practically for free!
Even if he only got half of the conquered turf, he didn't care in the slightest.
Because Blondie truly posed zero threat, and his very presence helped ward off at least half the trouble. What was more, Blondie truly cared about nothing else beyond whatever Mr. Ji ordered.
The only reason Blondie sat in that position was simply because of Mr. Ji's trust.
And trust was something he could earn too!
Just like right now: he understood Ji Jue's meaning; he comprehended Ji Jue's words.
Without hesitation, he grasped the olive branch Ji Jue had cast down, willing to stake everything he had. As for his worthless dignity, it was a mere triviality—completely irrelevant!
This was the idea Chen Xingzhou had pitched to Ji Jue.
Chen's hand couldn't reach this far, but hadn't Ji Jue's hand been resting right here all along?
If Chen Xingzhou was too far away for his reach to extend here, and Ling Liu's appetite was too ravenous while Ji Jue had no desire to deal with him, then why not cultivate a Dragon Head of their own?
Transform the conflict between the Seven Cities and the Wild Gathering into an internal struggle within the Wild Gathering itself, controlling the scale and walling off external interference.
By rights, given the Seven Cities' sheer size, the Wild Gathering should have moved in long ago. It was only because each city guarded its own turf with an iron grip, squeezing both Tianyuan and White Stag while shutting their doors to make their own filth and eat it themselves, that everything had been shattered into pieces, impossible to treat as a unified whole.
Now that the Seven Cities had achieved true integration under Ji Jue's hand, all seven districts combined were more than enough to support a branch of the Wild Gathering—with plenty to spare, dripping in wealth!
No need for anyone else to back it; I'll build it myself!
The New Seven Cities Wild Gathering!
Even though Ji Jue wasn't a registered member of the Wild Gathering and had no wish to don another persona, he had plenty of useful hands under him.
Beasts of burden were everywhere these days—what difference did it make which one he chose?
The crux was... whoever wanted to be chosen had to be picked by Ji Jue.
Ling Shuo understood Ji Jue's intent.
Without a second thought, he dropped to his knees and kowtowed.
"You know my bottom line," Ji Jue said.
"Yes!"
Ling Shuo gave a resolute pledge. "Everything in the shadows will never spill out into the streets, nor will it ever affect ordinary people. None of the smuggling will have any ties to you. As long as I'm breathing, no one from the underworld will ever disturb you. All the dirty work that can't see the light of day, I will handle myself!"
I'll take every fall; I'll do every dirty job.
All I ask is to rise.
Ji Jue fell silent for a moment, shaking his head slightly. He realized he had still underestimated the magnetic pull the position of Dragon Head held for members of the Wild Gathering.
Yet seeing how utterly humble the man was, he couldn't help but sigh with pity.
"What's so great about being such a stifled Dragon Head?"
"No matter how stifled, a Dragon Head is still a Dragon Head!" Ling Shuo kept his head bowed. "Borrowing the tiger's might, relying on the strong to accomplish oneself—that, too, is the orthodox way of the White Stag. Besides, being your dog is nothing to be ashamed of."
"Then give it a shot." Ji Jue nodded. "Coordinate properly with Minkler. He's been quite busy lately, so don't put any more pressure on him."
For a moment, Ling Shuo froze. He looked up stiffly, overcome with wild joy.
"You... you support me?"
Ji Jue gave neither confirmation nor denial. He merely patted his knees, stood up, and beckoned. "Since you're already here, come on in and have some tea."
"Yes, sir!"
A minute later, sitting on a chair in Ji Jue's dining room, he cupped the teacup with trembling hands, heedless of the scalding heat.
Tilting his head back, he downed it in one gulp without hesitation.
He couldn't tell if it was good or bad, nor could he taste any flavor, yet it felt as if he had never drunk such fine tea in his life.
So sweet.
Sweet enough to bring hot tears to his eyes.
***
"Bad news, Brother Blondie!"
Inside a smoke-filled private room, the door was abruptly pushed open. A lackey who had been playing pool outside barged in without ceremony, stammering his report: "Someone just saw that Ling bastard—he... he just went back to the loan-sharking den!"
"..." Blondie held a cigarette between his lips and looked over with a frown. "The usury parlor is his turf. What day *doesn't* he go back? Is there something wrong with your head?"
"N-no!" The lackey was out of breath, looking panicked. "He... he was riding in Mr. Ji's personal car!"
"What the hell?"
Everyone playing cards froze. Someone couldn't help chiming in, "Hey, Bro Snake, you sure you didn't see wrong?"
"One hundred percent certain, clear as day!"
Bro Snake held up his phone, showing Ling Shuo looking proud and triumphant, along with the car's license plate, displayed before everyone's eyes.
For a moment, dead silence fell over the card table. Everyone exchanged bewildered glances.
Not that anyone doubted Ling Shuo's respect for the rules. What a joke—the sky over the Seven Cities hadn't changed! Even with eight hundred times the nerve, would he dare touch that car without Mr. Ji's permission?
The only possibility was that Mr. Ji had specifically sent his own car to drop him off.
Wait, lifting him up like that?
Soon, new word arrived from the boys below. "Found out! Last night, that guy Ling Shuo went straight to Mr. Ji's door and knelt outside all night!"
"Holy shit, for real?"
"Did he screw up some errand and go beg Mr. Ji for mercy?"
While the others buzzed with discussion, Blondie took a drag of his cigarette and shook his head dismissively. "No way. He was totally fine during the meeting last night. If he'd actually committed a mistake Mr. Ji couldn't forgive, kneeling forever wouldn't help him. Keep an eye on your crews; don't let the boys below run their mouths."
"Wait, Brother Blondie, why do I feel like Mr. Ji is dropping a hint for you?"
The lackey sitting downstream froze after hearing about last night's meeting, his eyes suddenly lighting up. "Didn't he say people need to rely on themselves? When push comes to shove, your own people are the most useful! That bald bastard in the Iron Hook District dared oppose Mr. Ji—Mr. Ji must be pissed. Isn't this hinting that we should take that guy out to make a name for ourselves?"
The words stunned everyone around the table. They looked at each other, but amid the silence, temptation stirred, and excitement crept into their eyes.
"Yeah, could be!"
"If we take the initiative..."
The so-called White Stag followers were lawless bastards to the bone. To climb the ladder, they would resort to any means necessary. Why would they care about murder or arson?
No matter how tough that bald bastard was, wasn't he still human? If they found an opening and put a bullet through him...
"The hell you talking about?"
Blondie scowled, slipping into his Yacheng dialect as he shook his head emphatically. "Cut the crap, no way in hell!"
With a loud *thwack*, he slammed his red and black Jokers onto the table and glared at the subordinate who had just spoken. "Hey, let me ask you: last month, when you owed four hundred grand at Old Ling's gambling den and came begging me to settle it, what did you say?"
The subordinate was caught off guard, shifting awkwardly. "B-Brother Blondie, save me?"
"Exactly! If you'd been like Old Ling, holding a teacup and droning on for an hour about the weather and the almanac, I wouldn't have had a fucking clue what you wanted either!"
Blondie spat and barked, "Fuck, in the end the guy tore up the IOU right in front of me, and once I figured it out, I almost died of embarrassment! I damn near believed he actually loved reading the almanac!"
"Brother Blondie is awesome!"
The subordinate buttered him up, only to make Blondie even angrier. He slammed the rest of the cards onto the table. "Fuck your mother, you think he was scared of me? Nutjob! He was giving face to Mr. Ji and couldn't be bothered to stoop to you bastards' level, understand?!"
"Even you lot know I don't have much between the ears—you think Mr. Ji doesn't know?"
Blondie gave his final warning: "When Mr. Ji assigns someone a task, he has his reasons. Who the hell are you to guess at them? I'll pretend I didn't hear it this time. If anyone dares dream of breaking the rules like this again, there'll be no need to ask Big Brother—I'll send him on his way myself, understand?!"
Immediately, compliant murmurs broke the dead silence of the room. Under Blondie's cold glare, the previously joking subordinates nodded repeatedly, quiet as cicadas in winter.
Blondie pulled out a knife that had been stabbed into the table at some point—its blade chipped by the force of his fury—and tossed it into the trash can.
"Alright, beat it and get to work."
Blondie waved a hand, dispersing his subordinates.
They had been having a perfectly good game of cards, only for the mood to be completely ruined.
"What a bunch of nonsense," he grumbled, shaking his head in annoyance.
"Blondie Boy, being so soft-hearted all the time isn't going to work either, is it?"
A raspy voice spoke up. Looking like an old fisherman, Heart Pivot sat with his head down, intently playing cat's cradle with a piece of string.
From start to finish, he had been sitting in the corner, yet hardly anyone had noticed him.
Having observed the whole exchange, as Blondie's external brain, he felt compelled to offer a reminder: "Ruling underlings in the Wild Gathering is like raising starving beasts. If you're always reluctant to use the stick, the little brutes below won't obey for long. Those new recruits who came in recently are blinded by ambition. No matter how good your intentions, words might not dissuade them."
"I know."
A rare look of melancholy surfaced on Blondie's face. After thinking for a long time, he finally made up his mind. "Uncle Fisherman, have someone keep an eye on them. If they won't listen after all the nice words are spent... I'll handle them myself!"
He could never allow this trash to ruin Mr. Ji's affairs.
"Then what are you worrying about?"
The Old Fisherman sighed, reminding him, "You were right just now. If you don't have the brains for it, don't overthink. That's the best way for you to survive."
"It's not that stuff I'm fretting over. How should I put it... for some reason, I just have this weird premonition..."
Blondie scratched his chin, trying to find the words.
"Next up, Mr. Ji is probably going to make a really big move."
The Old Fisherman paused. He finally looked up, his gaze almost scrutinizing.
"What makes you say that?"
"No clue!"
Blondie spread his hands with his usual vacant expression, looking as though he were about to drool. "I can't explain it. It's just a feeling, you know? A feeling."
The Old Fisherman was at a loss for words.
He didn't know whether to feel admiration or exasperation.
If you called this kid stupid, he wasn't really stupid. He was just uneducated and hated using his brain. Yet, his beast-like intuition was terrifyingly sharp.
He could always inexplicably catch tiny clues that no one else noticed, and after a round of nonsensical wild deductions, arrive at a bizarre conclusion that somehow hit the nail right on the head.
Chances were, he had guessed right this time as well!
And was it just him?
Last night, when the Old Fisherman had been sitting in the car outside waiting for Blondie to return from the meeting, hadn't he felt the exact same thing?
After the meeting ended, that figure—whom he had gradually grown fearful of looking directly in the eye—had escorted Blondie out personally as usual, his demeanor warm and his smile gentle.
Yet for the briefest instant when their eyes accidentally met, what the Old Fisherman had glimpsed was an icy deluge, like a waking illusion.
Malice, cruelty, and coldness, gone in a flash—like a brutal tsunami brewing silently in the deep night, poised to swallow everything whole.
He spoke no more.
In the silence, the phone suddenly rang. Only a single contact name appeared on the caller display.
Blondie froze for a moment, then beamed with delight.
[Big Brother]
Chapter 846