Chapter 12

The next day, Wang Yan woke up and had breakfast.

He then retrieved some of his personal belongings from the prison guard—nothing much, just an ID card and a few thousand Hong Kong dollars.

Amid a group of gangsters in the prison who falsely claimed high moral ground, he walked out the main gate amid their collective farewell.

As expected, the moment Wang Yan stepped out of prison, he saw a row of underlings waiting outside.

About twenty-some, not quite thirty. Counting them, not only had none disappeared, but a few more had joined.

The group outside, seeing Wang Yan emerge, immediately lit the firecrackers they had prepared in advance to celebrate their boss’s release.

Wang Yan walked up to them and saw them all standing in neat formation, shouting in unison: “Welcome back, Boss, from prison.”

Wang Yan’s scalp prickled from their loud chorus—he thought it was too showy—but he said nothing, since they meant well.

Then his top lieutenant, Li Yun, stepped forward and said: “Brother Yan, let’s get in the car. The brothers have everything ready to throw you a welcome feast.”

Li Yun was in his early twenties, much younger than Wang Yan. According to the system’s memory, he had joined Wang Yan when he took over a street, and had been with him for two years. Seeing Li Yun was obedient and reckless, willing to fight and risk everything, Wang Yan promoted him to his top enforcer.

Wang Yan patted Li Yun’s shoulder and said: “You’ve got heart, Yun.”

He then got into the lead vehicle—a secondhand minivan—and the other twenty-odd men followed suit, climbing in and setting off.

On the way, Li Yun gave Wang Yan an update on the current state of his crew.

As Wang Yan had expected, within a month of his arrest, his men scattered. Neighboring gangs moved in to carve up his street. Only Li Yun and a few loyalists held on. Just as the entire street seemed lost, Wang Yan’s name began to spread again, and other factions dared not act. As his reputation grew louder, those few gangs—small-time outfits, no match for even one of his fingers—could not afford to challenge him. They withdrew from his territory, offering apologies and reparations.

Some former underlings who had left, hearing how powerful their old boss had become, came crawling back in repentance, and Li Yun allowed them to return.

Wang Yan didn’t care about any of this. When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter—it’s human nature, understandable.

Wang Yan listened quietly to Li Yun’s report: “Alright, I’ve got the picture.”

“Let’s talk about everything else tomorrow. Fuck, I’ve been locked up for a year—tonight, we party hard.”

Soon, the car pulled up at a restaurant. A boss who doesn’t brainwash his men isn’t a good boss. Over dinner, Wang Yan gave his underlings a full dose of indoctrination, hyping them up until they were fired up.

Everyone drank happily, and no one caused trouble. Then they headed straight to a nightclub, where Wang Yan assigned one girl to each man. He himself took two of the prettiest, treating the whole thing with proper decorum and safety. His body had grown stronger, so he was naturally vigorous. He’d been Bieleyinian —longing for release—and after a bloody battle, the two girls were driven to retreat, begging for mercy.

The next day, Wang Yan went to his base in Tuen Mun.

It was a small shop. The former owner, unable to repay his loan sharks, had it seized by Wang Yan as collateral. Wang Yan cleaned it up and turned it into a front. In this world, face matters more than anything.

Wang Yan sat in a worn-out boss chair—somehow acquired—and listened as Li Yun gave him a detailed report, mainly to find out how much money he had.

Although his street was in the remote Tuen Mun district, Hong Kong was small and densely populated. Compared to bustling areas like Central or Causeway Bay, his area lacked spending power. His street had over a hundred small shops, but his take was a fraction of what he’d earn in the city center.

Li Yun talked for a long time, then handed Wang Yan the ledger.

After glancing at the ledger and listening to Li Yun’s explanation, Wang Yan now understood the situation.

His street brought in about 80,000 Hong Kong dollars a month. After paying his men, he kept little. In the past year, Li Yun and the others had saved him roughly 100,000 Hong Kong dollars. Add the money from selling his prison shares, he had about 400,000 Hong Kong dollars available.

While in prison, Wang Yan had bribed everyone up and down—his spending was heavy, nearly 200,000 Hong Kong dollars. Otherwise, how could he have lived so comfortably inside, even the guards calling him “Brother Yan”? Being a boss means spending money.

He waved Li Yun away, slumped back in the chair, and closed his eyes to think.

In prison, Wang Yan had already thought this through. To get a super start and grow fast, he needed drugs, gambling, or prostitution—or outright robbery. But for certain reasons, he couldn’t do that. He could only rely on his reputation to gain favors. Though his current power couldn’t match even the second-tier of a major boss, his name was loud enough that he likely had some face with the big players.

After thinking, Wang Yan made a few calls, found out Ni Yongxiao’s contact, and dialed him.

“Hello, this is Ni Yongxiao. Who’s calling?” The voice came through the line.

“Brother Xiao, it’s Wang Yan. Got time to grab a drink?” Wang Yan said.

Ni Yongxiao paused, clearly surprised by the call, then laughed: “Hah! The infamous Yanwang invites me? Even if I have no time, I’ll make time.”

Ni Yongxiao, a major figure in Kowloon and Hong Kong, had been involved in the prison’s lucrative gambling operation. Though he didn’t know why Wang Yan wanted to meet, he still gave him some face.

They set a time and place, exchanged polite farewells, and hung up.

Wang Yan had nothing to do, and for now, he didn’t want trouble—quietness brought wealth. So he stepped out in baggy shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops, strolling slowly to patrol his territory, his domain, his kingdom.

What he saw shocked him. In broad daylight, under clear skies, he witnessed theft, brawls, extortion, and harassment of women—all along the way, everywhere chaotic.

His relaxed mood vanished. Back at his base, he summoned his men.

“Brothers, I just walked out. Honestly, I’m deeply disappointed in you.”

“A bunch of trash openly causing trouble on our street. This isn’t just slapping my face—it’s slapping yours.”

“Trouble on our street hurts business. Bad business means less money collected.”

“Less money collected—do we even have cash to spend?”

“Brothers, this is smashing our livelihood.”

“Brothers, answer me—how should we deal with those who try to steal our food?”

Li Yun was reckless but not stupid—he was sharp and knew how to act. He immediately raised his fist and roared: “Kill them!”

The other underlings, fired up, joined in shouting: “Kill them! Kill them!”

Wang Yan gave Li Yun a look of approval. Li Yun beamed—he’d just moved a step closer in his boss’s favor.

“Good. Brothers, here’s my rule.”

“Anyone who causes trouble on our street—beat them to death.”

“But don’t harass shop owners. They pay us so we can eat—we must help them as much as we can.”

“I want a clean street. Don’t let me down. Understood?”

The response was a loud roar from the underlings: “Understood!”

“Good. Now, form groups of three and go out—kill those motherfuckers.” Wang Yan walked out first.

The underlings scattered. Seeing anyone causing trouble, they rushed in without hesitation and beat them senseless, then dumped them onto the next street.

By the end of the day, shop owners were satisfied. Pedestrians were satisfied. Everyone on the street saw Wang Yan’s strength—and peace would last for a while.

As long as he maintained this, his street’s business would boom.

Time quickly arrived for his meeting with Ni Yongxiao. After giving instructions, Wang Yan went to the agreed location.

He chose a famous restaurant in Tsim Sha Tsui. Tuen Mun was far from there. When you need to ask for a favor, whether you succeed or not, you must show respect. This was necessary because Wang Yan’s reputation didn’t yet match his power—if it did, he wouldn’t need to show up himself; a single call would’ve sufficed.

At the restaurant, soon after, Ni Yongxiao appeared with several bodyguards. By now, Ni Yongxiao had already crushed his four major bookmakers and was riding high.

Wang Yan made a grand gesture, stepping forward with an outstretched hand: “Brother Xiao, honor to meet you.”

Ni Yongxiao shook his hand and smiled: “The honor is mine, Brother Yan. These days, so many want to meet you but can’t. Hah! We must drink well tonight.”

Wang Yan glanced at Luo Ji behind Ni Yongxiao, then laughed: “Brother Xiao, you’re exaggerating. Seriously, too much. Come on, inside.” He gestured for Ni Yongxiao to enter.

Ni Yongxiao didn’t refuse. He left his bodyguards outside, took Luo Ji with him, and followed Wang Yan into a private room.

Soon, food and drinks arrived. They praised each other, ate and drank. Ni Yongxiao had a decent tolerance, but Wang Yan outclassed him by miles. Ni Yongxiao had decent education; Wang Yan had encyclopedic knowledge. The more they talked, the more in sync they became.

After eating, Wang Yan signaled the waiter to bring tea, then gave Ni Yongxiao a look that said: “I won’t say it—you know.”

Ni Yongxiao understood this was serious business. He told Luo Ji to go buy two packs of cigarettes, dismissing him.

His father, Ni Kun, had barely been buried. Though Luo Ji had served his family for five or six years, Ni Yongxiao still couldn’t fully trust him.

Watching Luo Ji close the door and leave, Wang Yan said: “Brother Xiao, you know I just got out—I’m weak. You coming here is a great honor to me.”

“We’ve gotten along well. So I’ll cut the fluff.”

“I’m asking you for a favor.”

“I know you specialize in heroin trafficking—you’ve got plenty of cash. I’m short on funds. I’d like to borrow some.”

“I’ll pay you 35% annual interest. Will you agree?”

Wang Yan wanted to use the money to make a quick fortune. He had insider knowledge of stocks—he could strike hard at the bookmakers. Ni Yongxiao was the richest source he could think of. Others had money too, but mostly in property. Cash? Only a big bookmaker like Ni Yongxiao had enough.

Ni Yongxiao fell silent for a long while. Wang Yan sipped tea calmly, not interrupting.

Finally, Ni Yongxiao looked Wang Yan in the eye: “Brother Yan asks, of course I’ll help. How much do you need?”

Wang Yan didn’t hesitate: “The more, the better.”

Ni Yongxiao stared at him, then said: “Alright, Brother Yan. I have about ten million U.S. dollars in idle cash—I’ll lend it all to you.”

Ni Yongxiao wanted to build goodwill—he didn’t want to offend Wang Yan, who was now the most feared man in Kowloon and Hong Kong.

Also, Wang Yan had done something huge in prison. How many people had been locked up in Hong Kong over decades? Why did only Wang Yan succeed? He didn’t know what Wang Yan planned to do with the money—but seeing the prison’s thriving gambling den, he trusted him instinctively.

Besides, 3.5 million U.S. dollars in half a year was an excellent return—he couldn’t get that from stocks or investments.

The market was limited. No matter how much he held, he had to sell slowly. Money couldn’t make money—keeping it idle was frustrating.

Seeing Ni Yongxiao so generous, Wang Yan, though knowing he was full of bullshit, still gave a gentle nudge: “Brother Xiao, Hong Kong is too small. Look outside. The world is vast—great opportunities await.”

“I’ll say something I shouldn’t—why sell only in Hong Kong?”

“Look at the great United States—what a free land! The people there need you. I can almost smell the ink of U.S. dollars—what a beautiful scent.”

Southeast Asia might be manageable, but the United States? Ni Yongxiao couldn’t handle it. He’d thought about it before, but the gap was too wide, and he had no channels. He didn’t dare discuss it with Wang Yan, instead subtly changing the subject.

Wang Yan thanked Ni Yongxiao profusely. They chatted casually for a while longer, then parted ways.

Walking down the street, watching the neon lights flicker, he sketched out his future. As Han Chen once said: “I, Old Wang, have grand ambitions—I’ll make sure you never get a chance to sweep me away.”

Regardless of everything, he hailed a taxi and returned to his shabby apartment—the one the system had given him, earned after over a decade of struggle.

Back home, Ni Yongxiao immediately contacted a general in the Golden Triangle, explained the situation, received a positive reply, and hung up satisfied. In his $100 million villa, sitting on a $100,000 chair, he thought of his father.

Luo Ji, after dropping Ni Yongxiao off, immediately contacted his superior, Officer Lu, and reported the meeting between Wang Yan and Ni Yongxiao.

Upon hearing the news, Officer Lu grew restless and immediately called Huang Zhicheng to discuss it together.

Ever since Wang Yan turned a prison into a casino, he’d been on the police force’s radar—topping their internal ranking. There was no choice: Wang Yan’s threat was too great. Compared to thieves or gangsters who targeted rich people or civilians, Wang Yan attacked the police force’s very roots. He was extremely violent, and many officers had gained nothing from him—so he was wildly popular among the police.

No wonder they were nervous. A powerhouse and a drug lord teaming up? Nothing good could come of it.

Huang Zhicheng and Officer Lu analyzed for hours but found nothing concrete. They reluctantly gave up and passed the info up the chain—until it reached the Tuen Mun police station.

Since Wang Yan returned to Tuen Mun, they’d already assigned surveillance. They were terrified—Wang Yan had committed major crimes before, and if they failed to handle him, they’d lose their jobs. Everyone had families to feed. They feared losing their livelihoods. Worse, Wang Yan was the most violent gangster in Hong Kong—who knew if he’d go mad and kill a cop? They were afraid.

When Wang Yan began cleaning up the streets after his release, they said nothing—it was good for public order. But now, hearing this news, they were on edge. This time, something big was coming. They had no solution—only to increase surveillance.

Wang Yan knew nothing of this. He didn’t care.

He knew Luo Ji would leak the meeting with Ni Yongxiao—but so what? He wasn’t doing anything illegal. Even if he were, they’d still need proof.