Chapter 751: Hu Bian

Rinpoche comrade's car left, and Bai Lang knew he had to give him time— even a Rinpoche doesn't have the ability to walk straight into a bank and pull out a few hundred thousand; such withdrawals require an appointment. Large‑amount withdrawals are monitored, and at this point Bai Lang already felt he might have botched it— if he really tried to take out ten million, it would probably alert some authorities, and this Rinpoche hadn't even been robbed yet when he went in.

"Alas, I messed up," Bai Lang muttered, but it didn't matter; whatever he could get was fine. That night Bai Lang easily entered the luxurious multi‑level mansion this person owned within the Capital's three rings— he was a bit surprised that the person didn't live in a siheyuan. And his nightlife was indeed impressive; Bai Lang vaguely recalled that the woman by his side seemed to be a female star.

Thus the dual‑cultivation initiation began, and Bai Lang casually pressed a vacuum‑force button, sending the two "meat worms" into a coma while he, with his arms folded, started looking for money. "Yo, that's a lot of cash," Bai Lang said, eyeing the loot and estimating it at a little over two million. This Rinpoche was quite fat, so there would be plenty of opportunities to squeeze him repeatedly in the future.

Bai Lang packed the banknotes, stared at the female star‑type meat worm for a few minutes, thought it over, then put his phone away, chuckled and, with the bundle on his back, leapt away.

There would be no police report; that's the advantage when robbing a Rinpoche—most of the time these people don't file reports—aside from whether their routine scams get them caught, the very act of reporting stolen money could awaken their followers, leading to endless trouble. So for Bai Lang, Rinpochees are the prime prey, worth harvesting repeatedly.

Anyway, those who put faith in these guys aren't exactly bright, and many have unsavory secrets they seek the Rinpochees for, using so‑called devotion to soothe themselves. Taking that kind of people's money, Bai Lang felt no shame.

On this trip to the Capital, Bai Lang casually wrapped five million in cash and tossed it into the back of his car, then drove back to his current residence. In less than a week total, his personal net worth was back to the ten‑million level.

"You mean a variety show is after me? Aren't you afraid I'll smash the pot and have nothing left to act in?" Bai Lang chuckled to Wei Yang, noting his lukewarm view of variety shows— the last talent contest ended in this mess, and he didn't have high hopes for this one's fate either. "What kind of variety? Wait, didn't I see it's about dating? Would someone like me even fit?"

Bai Lang was both amused and exasperated; this person had never dated—back in the day, if a woman caught his eye, he would simply take her, though more often he just looked and left it at that. Bai Lang, being a fierce general, wasn't a flower‑picking lecher; among the elite he was considered not lecherous. And now it seemed he was being asked to do a pre‑arranged "date" on a variety show? And so on.

Bai Lang found it amusing; the whole world was genuinely fun to him. The world no longer needed him to drive out the Tartars; his favorite past activity—killing Tartars—was no longer possible. Of course there were foreign Tartars to slay, but Bai Lang planned to save the greatest pleasure for last— the black, white, and yellow Tartars of the North America continent and the black‑white Tartars of O Continent could be dealt with slowly, after all they couldn't run away.

Indeed, those are Tartars, and in Bai Lang's view they're worse than the barbarians of the Northern Frontier.

"Really crushed by a palm?" As the forensic doctor reassembled the bone fragments from the crime scene and issued the autopsy report, several police officers sighed—what kind of monster could crush a human skull with its hand? This isn't a movie; crushing one of the hardest bones, the skull, requires extraordinary force.

Why would such a killer target a petty thug? It's an inexplicable question.

All that remains is the traditional sweep— a large‑scale investigation starting from the evidence, which is still the most normal way to solve the case.

The show is a "dating" program with four men and four women, and it's somewhat popular—there have even been couples who truly fell in love on the show, three pairs even married, though they've all divorced by now. The program usually invites fresh, young male and female stars, and someone like Bai Lang, who hasn't appeared on a show for a while, seems out of place—recently it's been all the young pretty‑boy type men.

Bai Lang went out at night to wander, mainly to get some late‑night snacks—the area has good public security, with plenty of Camera Heads. Though not as extensive as his hometown's metropolis, it's enough for ordinary people to enjoy a pleasant night life. In recent years the violent crime rate has been steadily dropping—various surveillance systems are what eliminate these crimes; timely and effective monitoring makes it hard for criminals to escape, the best way to eradicate crime.

So it's not that easy for Bai Lang to strike down villains; he's just passing time, preparing to join the so‑called variety show.

Variety shows these days are quite advanced; for example, this program doesn't have a fully fixed script, only a series of challenge games and tests, many of which are deliberately arranged for pairs to participate. Isn't that exactly the kind of male‑female story everyone wants to watch? Ultimately, it's impossible to openly allow gay men and lesbian women to dominate.

Bai Lang arrived at the TV station; he and Wei Yang came in his second‑hand Da Qie, and they were actually the first to arrive. They first met the crew, especially the director and the producer; after chatting for a while, Bai Lang watched from a window as car after car pulled up, each participating artist accompanied by a manager and an assistant, arriving in a company‑provided nanny car.

So the middle‑aged female director and the male producer actually gave Bai Lang a favorable glance; the key was that he seemed genuine and straightforward, truly unpretentious and easygoing—just driving his own car here, no hassle. After the initial introductions, the four girls each represented different archetypes, at least four distinct character designs—Bai Lang didn't need to use any martial arts, nor did he have to, to see that half of each girl's behavior was performance and half was genuine personality.

Pure performance alone doesn't work; that's too "green‑tea," so a blend of performance and genuine personality is best. The girls each have different personalities, but the other three male artists are quite similar—almost all fresh‑out‑of‑training‑camp pretty boys, exuding a kind of delicate beauty. Bai Lang's style clashed with those three, while the four girls seemed quite interested in him.

Among them, Bai Lang was actually the most inexperienced; aside from that abruptly‑ended talent show, he had no other works—simply put, he was the one who should be looked down upon here. Yet his presence commanded enough respect that no one dared to speak down to him.