Chapter 124: Kill the Business Stealers

The Fengdan Fengdan Sihai Group is now thriving.

The chat software and social media platforms have been developed and are currently undergoing testing; they should be online in just a few days.

The logistics division has also started operations, but due to funding constraints, it cannot yet operate the widespread network of outlets for small items like it would later; instead, it buys vehicles and relies on the World Association's underworld methods to handle commodities. Moreover, the South Korean market is small, and even when they grow, it may not be feasible to deliver round trips within twenty-four hours, so eventually they'll need ships for international business.

The emergence of Fengdan Fengdan Sihai Logistics has also caused some trouble.

Previously, the World Association had no major operations—just seized small entertainment venues, minor gambling dens, usury, and protection rackets. Their men were a disorganized mob and could never amount to anything.

The Jinmen Group had not taken major action before, not because they were unaware, but primarily because the merger had consumed all their energy, secondarily due to the above reasons. Moreover, the World Association was quite sensible: aside from one clash, they never touched Jinmen Group and had virtually no overlapping interests. So at the time, Jinmen Group's chairman and directors thought they could eliminate them later, once stabilized.

But now it's different. In the Hu Pai region, it's manageable—even though both deal in entertainment and lending, they target entirely different customer bases.

But one of the main businesses of the North Gate Sect is logistics. And Fusan, as South Korea's second-largest city and largest port, offers excellent business opportunities.

Even if their primary activity is smuggling—drugs and other high-value goods—and legitimate business is secondary, the operations they've acquired through coercion and bribery bring in substantial profits and allow them to smuggle contraband under the radar, facilitating their operations.

Now, Fengdan Fengdan Sihai Logistics has appeared and stolen their business—this is truly an affront. They're a criminal gang—how dare someone steal from a gang? How many heads do they have?

In a lavishly decorated club, Ding Qing and Li Zicheng, exhausted from soaking in the bath, sat on chairs wrapped in towels, smoking and resting.

"Hey, should I change my tattoo? It doesn't seem very intimidating anymore."

Ding Qing frowned, looking down at his colorful tattoo.

Tattoos like this are rare among normal people, especially in places like Japan and Korea, where tattoos are a gang member's mark. As boss and second-in-command, both naturally had dragon and tiger designs.

Lost in self-satisfaction, Ding Qing received no response. He lifted his head, took a deep drag, blew a smoke ring that failed, cursed "Xi Ba La," and turned to Li Zicheng beside him: "Hey, we've got some new high-end girls—want to go relax later?"

Li Zicheng took a sip of wine: "Aren't we supposed to be thinking about how to handle the World Association and the Four Seas Group?"

"We have a saying in China: 'Know yourself and know your enemy, and you'll never be defeated.' We don't even have solid intel yet—why rush? Right now, relaxing is more important."

Ding Qing, cigarette dangling, leered and raised an eyebrow, making a loose fist with one hand, leaving a hole in the center, and slapping it rhythmically against the other palm: "Papapa."

Li Zicheng rolled his eyes and was about to speak when he saw his subordinate Shi Wu, dressed in a sharp suit, walking over with a file folder.

Shi Wu bowed as he approached: "Boss, Elder Brother, we've confirmed everything."

Ding Qing toyed with his wine glass: "Speak."

"The World Association is controlled by a Chinese man named Wang Yan; the one called Park Jeong-Ui is merely a puppet he installed. As for the Four Seas Group, although no registration records were found, our people saw Wang Yan and his two subordinates inside Four Seas Group. Based on timing, he must be its founder."

Without waiting for them to ask, Shi Wu continued dutifully: "Wang Yan is extremely strong—he's said to be able to take on over twenty men at once. He seized that entire street's territory in just three hours. Also, we heard he suddenly appeared there; he may have smuggled himself in. Analysis suggests he was behind the Qunshan City incident."

Worried his boss might forget, Shi Wu added: "That's the one where one of our snakeheads was wiped out, and our warehouse was burned down—we suffered heavy losses."

"So it's new grudges and old ones," Ding Qing laughed. "Strong? What century are we in? Even the strongest can't beat bullets. What do you think?"

Li Zicheng shook his head: "Let's talk first—see if there's room for cooperation. We're all out here for money; no need to kill each other."

"Then let's talk," Ding Qing said noncommittally, glancing at Shi Wu. "Do you have Wang Yan's phone number?"

Shi Wu opened the folder, flipped through it, and pulled out a sheet: "Here it is."

Ding Qing casually crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, took a sip of wine, picked up his phone, dialed the number, and turned on speakerphone.

"Who is this?"

Ding Qing asked in Mandarin: "Wang Yan?"

"Yes."

"Ah, ha ha. I'm Ding Qing, director of the Jinmen Group—you should know me. I'd like to discuss something with you." Ding Qing didn't take this compatriot seriously; in his eyes, he was just a clown. A phone call was already generous—he saw no need for idle talk, just get straight to the point.

"About logistics—everyone competes fairly. I'll step back: no dirty tricks, just normal business competition. What do you think?"

Wang Yan had already anticipated this—this was only because Ding Qing was his mission target. Otherwise, given his temperament and his underworld status, he would've killed them outright without a word.

"Ha ha, of course, of course. We're both Chinese, both compatriots. How about we set a time to talk properly—not just logistics, but other business opportunities too?" Ding Qing grinned at Li Zicheng, raised an eyebrow, and cut off Wang Yan before he could speak: "How about this? Today's Tuesday. I've been busy lately—let's meet this Sunday. I'll come to Fusan. How's that?"

"Of course. I'll host you. Then it's settled. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Ding Qing hung up and tossed his phone casually onto the table.

"Hear that? Useless. Clearly, they're not afraid of us." He stood up, stretched, and said: "I'm going to relax first. You handle this—when you're done, hey…"

Li Zicheng waved him off impatiently, signaling him to get lost.

Their relationship was excellent—extremely good. As boss and second-in-command, their words carried weight. Now that the gang wanted to go legitimate, Ding Qing no longer involved himself in such matters—he was a legitimate businessman now. So all the underworld affairs were left to Li Zicheng to handle various… disputes.

After watching Ding Qing kick Shi Wu and curse as he left, Li Zicheng began giving Shi Wu orders.

Two undercover agents plotted how to kill an opponent with no sense of self-preservation…

Ding Qing was right—this was no longer the age of counting numbers or who could fight. It was about money and guns.

Small-time gangs with a hundred or so men could be dealt with easily, but against an organization like the World Association, such methods wouldn't work. Only two options remained: kill the boss, and the rest will collapse on their own; or use deceit and division to break them from within. Any other approach was useless.

The World Association had only just stabilized Fusan and grown so rapidly—its internal flaws must be numerous. Once the boss dies, everything falls apart…

In a large martial arts school on the outskirts of Fusan.

Wang Yan put down the phone, thought for a moment, then called Park Jeong-Ui, telling him to increase security and bring more men when moving around. He was still useful—killing him now would be a waste.

He didn't know if Ding Qing's words were true, nor did he place his hopes on others. After all, he himself was no good man—he'd said kind words to pacify others before stabbing them in the back countless times. It was just a few words; why not? If he met a fool, it'd save trouble. If not, no harm done.

He'd expected Ding Qing to reach out—he knew exactly what he'd done. But as always, he was here for the money and wouldn't yield an inch.

Conflict? Let it come. Fight? Let it happen. It suited him anyway. After all, if the World Association kept thriving, it wouldn't be the largest violent organization, nor the only toxin needing eradication.

Shaking his head, Wang Yan stopped thinking and resumed beating the two fools who'd pressured him into starting an entertainment company to help him seduce women.

After so long, Zhang Guangshan and Li Quan could now hold simple conversations—after all, the environment forced it. Wang Yan had trained them by making them charge at the front lines with knives, taking plenty of slashes. Now that they were safe, they'd grown lazy again, constantly thinking about the "starlets" he'd mentioned, and now had the nerve to ask him to start an entertainment company for them.

After beating them for a while, Wang Yan, refreshed and invigorated, looked at the two lying on the ground like dead dogs: "Alright, remember this lesson. We're in the underworld—don't die without knowing why."

"Then, Boss… about the entertainment company…" Zhang Guangquan asked weakly.

Wang Yan laughed bitterly, stepped forward, and kicked him again: "Fine. Start one."

Before they could celebrate, Wang Yan said coldly: "But I advise you two to be restrained. If you don't improve next time—if you regress—I'll hang you up and let the boys practice punching on you."

Li Quan scrambled to his feet, grimacing: "Boss, rest assured—we'll improve. Otherwise, how can we face our faces?"

Zhang Guangquan rubbed his bruised body beside him: "Exactly. No problem at all. Then we'll go start the company?"

"You're useless mud that can't even stick to a wall—get out now."

"Ah, got it..." The two walked off, arms slung over each other's shoulders; their wounds no longer hurt, and their steps grew strong.

From afar came the awkward yet supremely confident Korean: "Hey, Secretary Zhang. Get legal over here—now."

Wang Yan sighed helplessly, went to the unassigned bathroom for a quick rinse, then stepped out with his two subordinates for a stroll.

The Heaven's Assembly and Fengdan Sihai Group no longer needed him to watch over them constantly—just steer the direction. Another day of the same leisurely, aimless wandering he'd done for over a hundred years.

The sights of Axe Mountain were decent enough, a popular tourist city. But he'd already wandered every attraction; now he had nothing better to do than sit by the sea and let the wind blow.

To be honest, he was waiting for those two idiots to get the entertainment company up and running… He had faith in them—they were good kids who knew how to honor their big brother, and the outstanding, top-tier ones would surely save something for him…

Park Jeong-woo was now very powerful; even though he was a puppet, his master usually didn't interfere, and thousands answered to his commands.

【Stable-running novel app, comparable to the old version of Zhuichong's preferred source-switching app, universal app.】

As long as he wasn't facing his big brother, wherever he went he was the absolute center of attention, surrounded by a crowd who all had to read his expressions. To take someone's life? Just a word. To sleep with women? Only the naturally beautiful, untouched, genuine Misses—no plastic surgery. His daily expenses ran through the gang's accounts, and Wang Yan had given him a large sum on top. So now, all he had to do was give orders—aside from indulging in wine, women, song, and sport, he had literally nothing else to do.

This life was what he once dreamed of. How long had it taken? Half a year. He'd achieved all this in half a year. It came too fast, too easily. If gangs were really this easy to join, then anyone on the street would be a gang member. Surviving in a gang world ruled by jungle law was hard enough—let alone rising to the top. And yet now, drowning in debauchery every day, he felt it wasn't real.

It was night. Park Jeong-woo, flushed and radiant, bowed to the group of subordinates seeing him off: "Alright, I'm heading back. I've arranged some entertainment for you all—enjoy yourselves."

Though he was a puppet, bound to obey Wang Yan, even a puppet must have dreams—to control his own fate, not be manipulated. That was the confidence granted to him by his five thousand men.

These men were all his own promotions, his own troops. If he nurtured them slowly, perhaps one day he could stand on equal footing with Wang Yan.

"Thank you, Chairman," they chorused.

Park Jeong-woo waved dismissively, gave a few final instructions, then staggered off to his car, escorted by eight sharp-suited elite bodyguards.

He'd taken Wang Yan's daytime warning to heart—after all, if someone as formidable as Wang Yan warned him, the danger must be real. He wasn't stupid; when they went to intimidate factory owners and seize business, he knew they'd eventually clash with Jinmen Group. After all, their former partner had been Jinmen Group—any fool could see that. Now Wang Yan's warning clearly meant Jinmen Group had moved.

People, once rich, usually buy houses and cars. Park Jeong-woo was no exception. After getting rich, he bought a new house near the outskirts of Axe Mountain City—not a high-rise apartment, but a two-story Korean-style villa.

This house had once belonged to a professor at Axe Mountain University. It was decorated with cultural flair, the surrounding environment was pleasant, the quality high—perfect for his status.

People always crave what they lack. Influenced by Wang Yan's aura of wisdom and erudition, he bought this place, hoping to absorb some of that culture even when idle.

Drunk and half-carried by his men as he stepped from the car, Park Jeong-woo suddenly heard a series of soft "puff-puff" sounds—the man supporting him collapsed. Then came a shout: "Big Brother, watch out!"—and another subordinate tackled him to the ground.

Park Jeong-woo snapped awake, drenched in cold sweat—pure terror of death.

He realized: the sound had been gunfire with a silencer. Just barely—he'd almost been the one lying there.

Pressed down beside the car, Park Jeong-woo cautiously lifted his head. Three of his bodyguards had already been shot and fallen; others were huddled behind vehicles. There was no way out—they weren't all armed. They couldn't charge barehanded.

Only two of his men were returning fire; the enemy had far more numbers, pinning them down so they dared not show themselves, just firing blindly.

Then his own man reacted, rolled over, used the fallen body as cover, pulled out his gun, and joined the exchange.

As a close-protection man, this kid had decent aim—he fired twice, and soon there was a sound from the other side, clearly a hit.

But before they could celebrate, the enemy's fire intensified.

For daily outings, you couldn't carry too much ammo—just one spare magazine at most. Soon, the guns of several subordinates emitted a hollow "click."

Park Jeong-woo was frozen in shock, mind blank. In all his life, he'd never seen anything like this. He just stared, motionless.

In fact, he didn't even have time to react—five men burst from the corner in a swarm, moving in perfect sync, taking turns to suppress fire.

These men didn't waste words—kill anyone they saw. Park Jeong-woo's men couldn't even run.

They swiftly cleared the rest, then one approached Park Jeong-woo and studied him closely.

"Bro… brother, I…"

Park Jeong-woo, pale-faced, tried to speak.

But too bad—he never got to finish. A gun pressed against his forehead—"puff…"

Red and white streamed from his forehead; his eyes still wide with terror.

The whole thing took less than five minutes. Park Jeong-woo never got to look back on his good life—he died at his own doorstep, filled with fear, leaving nothing behind…

Meanwhile, in another villa, Wang Yan leaned against his bedhead, quietly reading under the bedside lamp. This was a habit he'd maintained for nearly two hundred years—whenever he wasn't… that, he always read before sleep.

As the big brother, Wang Yan's villa wasn't much better than Park Jeong-woo's. Not because he was humble—he just had no money. Early development was critical; all his funds went into Fengdan Sihai Group. So he bought a house that looked decent enough and made do, planning to one day buy a seaside villa on a hill when he had spare cash.

Just as Wang Yan was engrossed in his book, about to turn the page, he suddenly heard an odd sound downstairs.

He didn't doubt it was hallucination—his mental attribute, after being boosted upon arriving in this world, had reached 39 points. Such high mental attribute granted him not just logic, memory, and endurance, but also superhuman perception—absolute sixth-sense acuity.

Wang Yan instantly rolled out of bed. He didn't turn off the bedside lamp—anyone watching outside might spot him if he did. Instead, he quietly opened his bedroom door and stepped out.

He was certain: the sound was someone carefully opening the front door.

He lived alone here. No servants. His subordinates always called ahead or respectfully knocked before coming. Those two idiots would just bang on the door and shout.

Wang Yan had already figured it out: though he didn't know how many were downstairs, they were definitely here to kill him—not thieves. He'd spoken with Ding Qing today; this situation was clearly abnormal.

He'd anticipated this scenario during the day—just hadn't expected Ding Qing to move so fast.