For two days, the entire Seven Cities had been running in apparent prosperity.
No wind, no rain, no waves or ripples. Despite so many dying just two days prior, it was now as calm as stagnant water, as if frozen by some invisible power.
Everyone's attention was fixed upon that single invitation.
A flimsy card had stirred who knew how many hearts in the shadows. Countless people bustled back and forth, meeting in secret to brainstorm countermeasures, yet in the end, none could find a way out.
Small wonder everyone harbored uneasy thoughts. In the Wild Gathering, the routine of hosting a banquet only to lop off heads and force men onto their knees like dogs had been played out far too many times. People practically had PTSD from it by now—please, take it away already.
Yet no matter how many calls were made or how many secret meetings were held, everyone who still hesitated understood deep down that the tide had turned.
In days past, they had been allowed to maneuver in the cracks and jump about running these "energetic civic organizations" solely because Mr. Ji was occupied with a myriad of affairs and couldn't be bothered to intervene.
Now that Ling Shuo, this rabid dog, had been unleashed from his cage to stir up such enormous waves in barely a week and swallow all the business in the Seven Cities in one gulp, was it truly because he was some peerless prodigy of grand vision and world-shaping genius?
Dream on!
Ling Shuo could succeed because Mr. Ji wanted him to succeed. If Ling Shuo could become a Dragon Head, it was solely because Mr. Ji wanted him in that seat. It was as simple as that.
You might not fear a rabid dog, but wouldn't you take a look at who held the leash?
From the moment the invitations were received, the invitees had no second choice. There was no alternative. Ask them if they were coming?
Of course they were!
Bring up loyalty and everyone was devoted; ask around and everyone was attending.
You either showed up that day, or you'd be flushed down the sewers before dawn the next morning... It wasn't that people feared death, of course; it was mainly that President Ling was celebrating his grand thirtieth milestone birthday, and such a joyous occasion simply had to be congratulated properly.
As for whether this birthday banquet would end with host and guests rejoicing together or in rivers of blood, no one could say for sure.
Confronted with the surging waves stirred up by an invisible hand, the helpless duckweeds could only drift with the current, doing their best to float gracefully in hopes of luck and ancestral favor. Meanwhile, the behemoths lurking beneath the muddy waters biding their time didn't mind seizing this opportunity to test the waters—or perhaps teach the lofty Mr. Ji a thing or two.
Consequently, the banquet invitations drew an overwhelming response. In a mere two days, it almost turned into the premier gala of the Seven Cities. The Seven Islands Commerce Association, founded less than a week ago, already projected an aura of flourishing prosperity—its future looked truly promising.
The birthday banquet was scheduled for the evening, but starting from the morning, the entire street block was packed solid. Crowds came and went in an endless stream. Perhaps by chance... the multi-story parking garage beneath Guili Tower, with its hundreds of spaces, had suffered a minor issue and was temporarily taken out of service.
"What is the meaning of this?"
At the entrance, a subordinate inquiring about the situation froze in disbelief before flaring up in anger. "Get your head straight, will you? We're here to celebrate President Ling's birthday! How could you pull something like this? We can't even park our car?"
"I am terribly sorry, truly sorry for the inconvenience."
The hotel manager stood before the entrance, bowing and nodding repeatedly. Drenched in cold sweat, his face was pale. "We're conducting emergency repairs, but we can't say how long it will take. To accommodate our guests' parking needs, we have leased an emergency lot for your use. It's just that the distance is... a bit... on the far side."
With that, for what must have been the hundredth time that day, he pointed.
He indicated a specially cleared building with prominent signage at the end of the block, several hundred meters away.
"You only need to park there," the manager said.
"Are you kidding me? How far of a walk is that?!"
The scar-faced man stared, then erupted in fury. He pointed at the entrance to the parking garage on the other side, where a luxury car had just driven straight inside without hindrance. "Didn't you say it was closed? Then what's that—"
"Deepest apologies, I'm not entirely clear on the specifics either." The manager's smile remained warm and apologetic as he continuously repeated meaningless platitudes. Only his eyes stared straight at him, completely unyielding.
Just as the man's face turned livid and his fists clenched, unable to hold back any longer, a sharp bark sounded from behind him.
"Ah-Shu!"
Behind the rolled-down car window, a slightly aged face appeared, glaring fiercely at him. "How much longer do you plan on embarrassing me? Get your ass back here!"
"But Big Brother... they, they—"
"Shut up!"
The man in the car cast him a cold glance, his cheek twitching slightly. "Since it's Mr. Ling's arrangement, just park over there. As for the rest..." He paused, squeezing the words through gritted teeth. "We walk."
In silence, the black sedan drove off. Then a new sedan pulled up in front of the entrance, starting the exact same routine and meeting the exact same result.
Big shots who normally never let their feet touch the dirt now had to bring their entourages, carry their own gifts, and walk step by step from the distant parking lot to Guili Tower, where they announced their names and waited in line.
And beneath Guili Tower, watching numerous lucky souls who were beneath them drive straight into the garage without impediment, everyone knew full well that this was a special performance President Ling had prepared just for them.
Before the banquet had even begun, people had already been sorted into pecking orders.
Those syndicates and guilds that had surrendered at the first sign of the wind, or had closely aligned themselves even before that, were naturally inner circle—distinguished guests. As for those fence-sitters who now wanted to cozy up to beg for a lifeline, they could only walk over on foot, eat dust outside the doors, and await instructions. By comparison, that was already considered merciful; some weren't even qualified to step through the door, dismissed after handing over their gifts without even catching a glimpse of Ling Shuo.
Throughout the afternoon, carriage and traffic bustled in an uproar. Rarely had Luo Island seen such ostentation—not even the grand opening of Coast Industry had matched such grandeur.
Beyond the visiting guests, massive, extravagant flower stands lined the street from the doors of Guili Tower all the way to the end of the block, packed so densely there was hardly room for more.
Yet even if there was no room, they had to be placed. Some gift-givers had to personally carry their own stands, squeezing into any available gap, and if they wanted a prominent spot, they had to swallow their pride and beg the lackeys in charge for favorable placement.
"Quite a scene. It hasn't even started, and people are already being forced to pledge loyalty."
Inside a luxury car stuck around the corner, Meng Sang, attending on behalf of the Shiye Wild Gathering, sneered. "Look at these fellows scrambling over each other... Anyone who didn't know better would think that guy Ji was already a Celestial-Human."
"Just a matter of time." In the back seat, Aogao, the one truly in charge, smoked coldly and said, "When we get there, you'd better keep your mouth shut. We're only here to check out the situation. Don't ruin the Dragon Head's business."
"Is there any need to be this cautious?" Meng Sang frowned.
"Even if he isn't a Celestial-Human, he's already a Crown of Glory Master of the Artisans Association. Do you have any idea how many people in the Thousand Islands line up outside his workshop every day begging for a single creation of his? Right now, his weapons are used all across the Thousand Islands, and even the Federation uses his drones. The capital and influence in his hands might not be able to topple the Dragon Head just yet, but he could crush you like a bug with ease."
Aogao asked coldly, "Besides, do you think he doesn't have a Celestial-Human backing him?"
Meng Sang paused, reflexively looking away. "As if we don't have one."
"So what if we do?"
Aogao's gaze sharpened. "Are *you* a Celestial-Human? If you were, you could do whatever the hell you pleased. You could call Ji a piece of shit and I'd tell you you're right. But are you?
"If not, shut your mouth. The Dragon Head doesn't have just one son. If you want to prove yourself, behave yourself and don't cause trouble for me.
"Otherwise, before the Dragon Head even needs to step in, I'll discipline you myself."
Meng Sang instantly shrank back and lowered his head, not daring to utter another word.
Aogao and his father William were as close as brothers. In the syndicate, even his father had to give Aogao face. If he truly pissed Aogao off, he would definitely suffer the consequences.
William wouldn't hesitate to break one of his legs just to soothe his brother's anger.
Seeing Meng Sang behave, Aogao withdrew his gaze and sighed softly.
Still too young, after all.
Backing?
As if anyone didn't have backing.
When making a living in the underworld, having a backer behind you was certainly essential. But the reason a backer was called a backer and not a beast of burden was that you'd better not fucking whine to them over every little thing!
A backer was meant to be shown off, not worn out!
Just like how Old Gou wouldn't report to Ji Jue simply because a convoy in the Mid-Continent had been intercepted; Yu Shu wouldn't make an urgent report just because the wilderness was difficult to manage; and Minkler wouldn't come running to call in reinforcements just because some city-state called him an idiot...
There was no need.
Running to superiors at the drop of a hat would only make people question your competence. What was more, there were troubles superiors were unwilling to touch, or simply couldn't.
If beating the young always brought out the old, then a street brawl could eventually escalate into a war between Virtue and Sin... That wasn't how business was conducted. In most cases, nobody could afford the consequences of an escalating situation spiraling out of control.
That was why rules were necessary—even the Wild Gathering needed them, perhaps needed them even more, because nobody wanted things to reach a point of no return.
"When we go up later, follow behind me. When I smile, you smile; when I move, you move. Unless I give the order, you ask for permission even if you have to fart. Understand?"
Before getting out of the car, Aogao turned around one last time to glare at Meng Sang. Only when Meng Sang gave repeated assurances did he nod and push open the car door.
"Mr. Aogao?"
As a VIP of sufficient weight, he naturally received a personal greeting from Ling Shuo. "My men only just informed me of your arrival. Forgive my lack of proper welcome, forgive me!"
The two smiled warmly and shook hands as if they were dearest friends. "How is Mr. William doing?"
"Not too well. Constantly coughing. He kept going on about coming in person before."
"Ah, what a pity. A missed opportunity to meet. But taking care of his health comes first. Look at me, chatting with you and forgetting where we are!" Ling Shuo slapped his own forehead and quickly gestured. "Please, please come inside! The VIP tables await."
Inside the bustling, clamorous banquet hall, almost every seat was filled. Every table was lively, and every face wore a radiant, seemingly heartfelt smile, immersed in an atmosphere of merriment amidst the fragrance of flowers and fine wine.
Once Aogao sat down with his entourage, he realized that sitting across from him were old acquaintances... Abadesa of the Wuyin Wild Gathering and Himawan of the Iron Hook District.
Seeing them, he couldn't help but chuckle. Settling into a more comfortable posture, he looked at Himawan. "Didn't you two say you weren't coming?"
"When did we say that? How come I don't know about it?"
Himawan, dark-skinned with a head of curly hair, wore a look of utter shock. "We're all neighbors. For such a joyous occasion, how could we possibly stay away?"
Aogao smiled and said no more, turning his gaze elsewhere.
His eyes swept across the many guests and tables in the venue, but when his gaze drifted toward the foremost table, he was slightly taken aback.
Even as representatives of a Dragon Head, they hadn't been seated at the primary table. Right now, that table was already half full.
First and foremost was a youth absorbed in playing a handheld console, a sword leaning diagonally against his chair—none other than that monster who had risen to sudden fame across the western waters in recent days...
Beside him was a burly man with faint blood-flames flickering in his eyes, bronze skin, and jet-black hair, already chugging down drink after drink. One didn't even need to look closely to know he was of the Swarm. Furthermore, he wore a Mid-Continent-style formal robe, emblazoned on the shoulder with the crossed blades insignia... the Knights of Homecoming from the Red Nation!
On the other side sat the secretary of Seven Cities Alliance Leader Minkler, and next to her was the development director of Coast Industry in the Seven Cities.
Flanked between them was a middle-aged man who likewise exuded a thick White Stag aura, his temples graying, with only a single arm.
He was chatting intermittently with the youth, unbothered by the lack of response, smiling amiably like an elder.
"Who is that?" Aogao frowned slightly.
"A representative from the Yacheng Wild Gathering, surnamed Lin—one of Chen Xingzhou's men..." Abadesa turned and said. "The Yacheng Wild Gathering and the Seven Cities are tight as thieves. He might very well be fanning the flames behind all this."
Abadesa added, "See that woman beside him? That's Shaban's eldest daughter."
"From Tacheng?"
Aogao's expression grew increasingly grim. "Shaban's sticking his hand in too?"
"Why wouldn't he? He's made a fortune leaning on Master Ji."
Himawan sneered. "Just the alchemy bullets leaking through the fingers of the Federation garrison base are practically monopolizing the White Nation's market. Shaban wouldn't just send someone to show support—he'd gladly send someone to call him 'Daddy.'
"If you ask me, the old man sitting next to her is the real heavyweight."
Aogao remained silent.
He recognized that old man... In fact, he had dealt with him just days ago. That was the chief manager of the Ring of Taiyi Artisans Association in the Western Sea region!
Now, without needing any reminder from Aogao, Meng Sang—who had previously been curious—sat straight up, lowering his gaze, not daring to speak.
"Quite the grand display," Aogao murmured in awe. "Looks like that person spared no effort to prop him up."
"Don't be in a rush. The real excitement is yet to come."
Sipping his red wine, Abadesa suddenly chuckled meaningfully. "If you ask me, someone's probably anxious right about now. The obedient foster son grew wings, took a vicious bite, and is getting ready to fly solo... Now he's throwing a lavish birthday bash; how could 'Daddy' not make a gesture? Mark my words, today won't end peacefully."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the volume throughout the entire banquet hall seemed to plummet.
Silence spread through the banquet hall like a contagion, dropping suddenly and heavily.
From outside the main doors came faint clamor.
Soon, not just Aogao and Himawan, but even Abadesa—who had just spoken—froze in place, looking up in disbelief.
Wait, he literally just said it, and the man arrived?
He had actually...
Come in person!
Beneath the radiance of the crystal chandelier, an aged face appeared before everyone's eyes, bearing a genial smile.
The Dragon Head who had held Grey Harbor in his grip for decades, the Wild Gathering kingpin coiled over the Endless Sea...
Ling Liu had arrived in person!
Chapter 853