Chapter 11: Chapter Eleven: Chen Yongren

Time passed as Wang Yan steadily improved.

In the blink of an eye, more than half a year had gone by. It was now June 1991, and in three months, Wang Yan would be released.

During this half-year, Wang Yan’s advancement was equally tremendous.

Sitting on the bed, Wang Yan called up his panel.

Wang Yan

Attributes: Strength 17

Agility 16

Constitution 18

Spirit 14

Unallocated points: 2

Storage space: 1m³

...omitting a pile of skills.

At the cost of exhausting his body’s potential, Wang Yan pushed himself through near-fanatical training and constant injury-recovery cycles. His constitution naturally rose by two points, and he added two more, boosting both strength and agility by four points each. His weight increased from 160 to 175 pounds. Even after system compression, he still looked lean, but his body had visibly gained some mass—all attributable to his own training.

At this point, Wang Yan clearly felt his body had reached his personal limit. Continuing his current regimen through natural training could no longer improve his physical stats; he could only unlock his current potential to raise strength and agility. His current training was truly just maintenance. To go further, he’d have to spend points.

To his surprise, his spirit increased by one point. Wang Yan guessed it was the agony of his insane training and repeated injury-recovery cycles that had forged his mental resolve. What he regretted was that this opportunity would come only once. His body could no longer be stimulated further.

His skills saw little change—except for Combat LV3—and after half a year of reading, he had gained entry-level proficiency in several others.

Thinking it over, Wang Yan allocated his remaining two points to constitution. This world was still dangerous, and his spirit was sufficient for now. He quietly sensed the divine force the system exerted on his body. He could distinctly feel his strength growing, a sensation of control over himself and dominance over others—addictive.

His attributes after allocation became:

Wang Yan

Attributes: Strength 18

Agility 17

Constitution 20

Spirit 14

Constitution increased by two points; strength and agility each rose by one. His weight climbed from 175 to a staggering 180 pounds.

At 183 cm tall and 180 pounds, he already looked slightly stout. Tyson stood 178 cm and weighed around 200 pounds—look at Tyson’s physique. Yet Wang Yan still appeared lean, making his body’s density unimaginably terrifying.

Over this long period, the inmates in Wang Yan’s cell had come and gone in constant flux.

Three months ago, an unexpected man entered Wang Yan’s cell: Sha Qiang. Sentenced to six months for car theft and burglary.

Seeing Sha Qiang, Wang Yan understood: the system had given him a convenience—early contact with Chen Yongren.

Wang Yan didn’t care. He never intended to join Han Chen’s crew as a lackey or become Chen Yongren’s babysitter. Knowing the plot and possessing his own memories, he might even eliminate Han Chen within a few years. If so, why bother with all this useless nonsense?

Thanks to Wang Yan’s prior fame and the exaggerated tales of various gangsters, nearly every street thug now knew who he was. Everyone greeted him respectfully with “Brother Yan.”

These men might have doubted his reputation outside, but inside prison, having witnessed Wang Yan’s methods, they understood the truth behind the legend: “No reputation is without foundation.”

Thus, despite the constant turnover, no foolhardy inmate dared provoke or boast before Wang Yan.

Though named Sha Qiang, he wasn’t truly stupid—he had eyes. He knew who to provoke and who to avoid. In prison, he constantly called Wang Yan “Brother Yan,” fawning and groveling.

Wang Yan wasn’t the type to seek trouble or force his dominance. As long as they didn’t interfere, he didn’t care what they did. No one challenged him anymore; his free time was spent reading. A corner of the cell was piled high with books—all he’d read over the past half-year.

You’re a man with such a fearsome reputation, yet you spend your days locked up reading books? The gangsters thought Wang Yan was bizarre, utterly out of sync with their lifestyle. Reading and studying were useless—surely he was mentally unstable.

Wang Yan knew this well. He didn’t care what they thought—he did as he pleased, finding joy in it.

On this uneventful day, Wang Yan sat on his bed reading as usual. He heard the cell door open and looked up. Before him was a face strikingly similar to a young Ah Liang—Chen Yongren had arrived. After a brief pause, Wang Yan returned to his book, ignoring him.

Sha Qiang had been chatting with other gangsters. Hearing the commotion, he froze upon seeing Chen Yongren enter. Then he burst into loud laughter. Chen Yongren didn’t tolerate it—he charged forward and attacked. At first, Sha Qiang and his group held back, defending passively, intimidated by Wang Yan’s presence. Wang Yan didn’t interfere—he had no interest in meddling.

Seeing Wang Yan silent, they finally began beating Chen Yongren together. In the end, both sides were badly injured and punished by the guards, sent together to the infirmary.

Chen Yongren’s sentence was three months—nearly the same as Wang Yan’s release date.

In the following weeks, as Chen Yongren gradually adapted to prison life and understood the prison’s inner workings, he was utterly shaken.

The prison hosted fighting rings and gambling dens. Worse, he saw drugs being sold inside. Chinese prison guards, white officers, and societal scum colluded in corruption. Some guards even fraternized with gangsters, calling them brothers. Like Wang Yan in his cell, even guards addressed him as “Brother Yan.” This situation reminded him of the legendary era of the Four Big Inspectors—what difference was there now?

It was normal. The white officers, with only a few years left, made constant small moves to extract wealth. The Chinese, each with their own agendas, couldn’t unite. The police force was an even more complex arena of power and profit, barely held together by a few loyal senior officers. Maintaining even a surface-level harmony was already a miracle.

This shattered Chen Yongren’s inner sense of justice. He began to doubt himself—was his persistence truly right?

During his meeting with Chen Yongren, Huang Zhicheng immediately sensed his distress. He persistently reassured and guided him.

“We are Hong Kong police. Fighting crime is our duty. But the situation is complex—the police force, even all of Hong Kong, is no longer under Chinese control. You’re young, but I think you understand what I mean. Until then, all we can do is keep gathering evidence and keep holding on. Victory will come, won’t it?” Huang Zhicheng guided Chen Yongren through faith, circumstance, and personal conviction.

Afterwards, Chen Yongren told Huang Zhicheng about Wang Yan.

The police force knew Wang Yan well. When gambling dens first appeared, observant officers had taken notice. By the time Wang Yan became famous across Hong Kong and Kowloon, he had been thoroughly investigated.

Wang Yan’s identity was arranged by the system. Aside from this recent accusation, he was simply a slightly larger gangster.

The police had no way to act. If they could have, they wouldn’t have let a prison become a gambling den. Besides, Wang Yan’s crimes were mainly violent assault—and he was already in prison. What could they do? They could only monitor him closely; once concrete evidence emerged, they’d strike decisively.

Moreover, Wang Yan operated in Tumen. Huang Zhicheng was stationed in Tsim Sha Tsui. Whether he even had jurisdiction required further study.

Huang Zhicheng told Chen Yongren: “Your main task is still to get close to Sha Qiang. As for Wang Yan, just keep an eye on him. Report anything unusual.”

He then slipped Chen Yongren some cash—anything could be bought in prison—and delivered a string of empty encouragements before leaving.

Back in the cell, Chen Yongren greeted Wang Yan with “Brother Yan,” then randomly picked a book from the corner pile, lay on his bed, and flipped through it absentmindedly.

Wang Yan, engrossed in his book, was irritated by Chen Yongren’s restless page-turning: “If you ain’t gonna read, shut the hell up and lie down. Don’t keep flipping that shit.”

Startled, Chen Yongren quickly apologized: “Sorry, Brother Yan. I was just zoning out.”

Though he’d been here a short time, he’d seen Wang Yan’s brutality in the fighting rings. Even though Wang Yan read constantly, Chen Yongren knew he was reasonable—but only if you respected his status. If you angered Wang Yan, you didn’t need him to lift a finger; the other gangsters would crush you themselves.

Wang Yan pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. Chen Yongren, quick to please, stepped forward and lit it for him. Wang Yan tossed another cigarette to him, inhaled deeply: “Hssss... Huh...”

Exhaling the smoke, he sighed in relief, got off the bed, and motioned for Chen Yongren to follow. “Come with me for a walk. Been sitting too long—need to stretch.”

Prison security was extremely lax now. Aside from escaping, fighters like Wang Yan could do almost anything. After signaling the guards, he led Chen Yongren toward the yard.

The sunlight felt warm on his skin. Wang Yan lazily stretched out and said to Chen Yongren: “You’ve got that gloomy face every day. Something on your mind, kid?”

Chen Yongren made up an excuse: “No, Brother Yan. Just still recovering from the fight the other day.”

Hearing this, Wang Yan smiled faintly: “Then rest up.”

“I just feel you’re different from the others.”

Seeing Chen Yongren, sweating and opening his mouth to explain, Wang Yan cut him off: “Enough. If you need anything, come to me. Let’s go.”

Chen Yongren felt like he’d been pardoned. Hearing Wang Yan say he was different had nearly made his heart stop. He was still young—only in his early twenties—with little experience and poor mental resilience. If he’d heard this a few years later, he’d have grinned, licked his lips, and started babbling nonsense to flatter.

Watching Chen Yongren hurry away in disarray, Wang Yan shook his head. Too green. Surviving Ni Yongxiao’s wrath? He’s just lucky. One, he has blood ties. Two, Luo Ji gave his life to buy him time. The protagonist’s luck is ridiculous.

After that, Wang Yan had little further contact with Chen Yongren. To let Chen Yongren find redemption, his early experiences couldn’t be altered. He needed to feel pain before redemption was possible. Later? That depended entirely on Wang Yan’s mood.

Days passed. With deliberate effort, Sha Qiang and Chen Yongren grew closer.

Wang Yan hadn’t fought in over ten days. Aside from a few fools who still dared challenge him to climb the ranks, no one else dared test him.

Wang Yan’s constitution wasn’t a joke. Five or six red sticks couldn’t beat him. Ordinary tough guys? He knocked them down with a single punch.

Once out, many would likely come to bow to him as their boss. And his old crew from before his arrest? They’d surely come in grand style to welcome him out.

“Finally getting out,” Wang Yan muttered.

Today was Wang Yan’s last day in prison. Tomorrow, he’d be free.

He called up his panel, studying his stats.

Wang Yan

Attributes: Strength 20

Agility 20

Constitution 20

Spirit 14

Three more months had passed. Wang Yan had pushed his body to its absolute limit—strength, agility, and constitution all at 20. With his current physical stats and professional-level combat skill, he might not win, but he could definitely go toe-to-toe with Tyson. He estimated he’d need three to five more constitution points to KO him.

He stopped thinking about irrelevant things. He’d spent a year locked up—he’d thought through everything he could.

He pulled the blanket over his head and slept. Tomorrow, he’d be out.