Chapter 15

The chief of the Tuen Mun office was a Chinese man surnamed Ho, around fifty years old, with an imposing demeanor that commanded respect even without anger, and he looked vigorous.

“Hahaha, Master Wang, what an honor to have you grace us! My apologies for not greeting you properly. Please, sit down, sit down and talk.”

Seeing Wang Yan enter, he rose with a smile and gestured toward the sofa nearby, inviting Wang Yan to sit. The commotion downstairs had not escaped his notice—he was the highest-ranking official in the district, after all—and someone had already reported it to him.

Wang Yan didn’t bother with formalities; he plopped down on the sofa and placed the food and cold drinks he carried onto the coffee table: “I’m here representing Long Teng to pay respects to the guardians of our lives and property. Chief Ho, you haven’t eaten yet, have you? Eat while it’s hot—this chef’s cooking is excellent, you’re in for a treat.”

“Then I’ll savor Master Wang’s thoughtfulness with great pleasure,” Chief Ho laughed heartily as he sat on the single sofa beside Wang Yan. “But if you don’t tell me your purpose, this meal might not sit well.”

Wang Yan understood the implication—he’d brought a gang of hoodlums to storm the police station, clearly provoking them. Chief Ho appeared amiable, no outbursts, no vulgar language, yet his words carried hidden barbs. Anyone who reached this position wasn’t simple—he had depth.

“Chief Ho, we’re both smart men. I’ll speak plainly.”

“By all means.”

Wang Yan nodded: “Right now, Long Teng calls the shots in Tuen Mun. I trust Chief Ho knows us well—and compared to the East Star, you’ve already weighed the scales in your heart. I won’t waste words: with Long Teng’s current strength, the East Star is no match.”

“The East Star has run rampant in Tuen Mun, turning it into a cesspool, spreading fear, and making life unbearable for the people. As a Hong Kong citizen and a businessman with assets here, I need a stable, harmonious environment to operate and grow.”

“Absolutely,” Chief Ho replied without hesitation, nodding in agreement.

“Since Chief Ho agrees, then it’s simple,” Wang Yan said. “To achieve stability and harmony, we must eradicate the East Star as a malignant tumor. That will inevitably cause some unrest—what’s your take on it?”

After listening in silence, Chief Ho narrowed his eyes and stared at Wang Yan. After a long pause, he spoke: “As Chief of Tuen Mun, maintaining peace and harmony in my jurisdiction is naturally my duty.”

“Cut the crap,” Wang Yan waved impatiently. “Just spit out a number.”

Chief Ho raised his hand, spreading five fingers.

“Not much,” Wang Yan smiled, his tone laden with meaning. “I just wonder if it’s enough to cover your family’s expenses in Canada...”

Chief Ho’s narrowed eyes snapped wide open as he glared fiercely at Wang Yan’s smiling face. After a long silence, he sighed, defeated: “State your terms.”

“Two point five million. It’ll be wired to your wife’s account in Canada—watch for it.” As he spoke, Wang Yan stood and shook Chief Ho’s hand. “Pleasure doing business, Chief Ho. If you have any problems in Tuen Mun, come to Long Teng.”

Chief Ho forced a smile: “Of course. Take care, Master Wang.”

Wang Yan smiled, muttered “No need to see me off,” and walked out, opening the door.

Chief Ho was clearly not one of them—otherwise he wouldn’t have asked for five million. He wasn’t a foreigner’s dog, but he was certainly self-serving.

But honestly, he could’ve just ignored Chief Ho entirely. After all, his strength was undeniable, his arrangements solid—if he moved, they’d find zero trace.

Still, he was the law, and Wang Yan operated under his jurisdiction. A little payment now was better than endless trouble later. If the man truly wanted to squeeze him, it’d be a nuisance. Better to solve it with money than invite complications.

On the way back, Wang Yan received a call from the East Star—they wanted to sit down and talk.

Wang Yan scoffed at the call. They only called now after all this time? Definitely internal power struggles and blame-shifting. The idea of “talking” made him want to laugh. What kind of idiot would walk into his territory to beg for death? They’d just seized the territory—now they wanted to talk? It was a classic Hong Men Banquet.

Without hesitation, Wang Yan refused. He didn’t care about the Five Tigers or the sick cats—they were all trash. His stance was clear: he’d fight to the end.

After hanging up, Wang Yan ignored the East Star’s threats. He waited for retaliation and prepared to fight. He returned to continue post-battle arrangements and re-planned his expansion.

Time slipped to nightfall. The East Star mobilized a large force and marched en masse toward Tuen Mun.

After the previous battle, Wang Yan’s men had dwindled to just over eight hundred—the rest were hospitalized. Eight hundred versus at least three thousand—three-to-one odds against them.

Police arrived to maintain order, but with four thousand men total, their manpower was insufficient to control the situation or prevent the two sides from closing in. Helplessly, they surrounded the area, trying to keep civilians safe.

But there were no civilians left—everyone had fled far away to find better vantage points. They just didn’t dare join; they were workers, and getting beaten up for no reason wasn’t worth it.

Wang Yan watched the scene below from a rooftop far away, using binoculars. Since a fight was inevitable, why waste time with shouting matches? He had no patience for theatrics. He called Li Yun, the leader on the ground, and ordered: “Go.”

At this moment, hesitation was fatal. Besides, most of the enemy were just bodies for show—they lacked individual combat strength compared to his eight hundred. They looked intimidating in numbers, but were useless. If his men held through the first wave, the battle was already won.

After hanging up, Li Yun fully implemented his boss’s orders. Without a word, he grabbed his blade and charged forward. The East Star men weren’t prepared—they were still rehearsing insults, trying to come up with clever taunts—when his men were already upon them. Before they could react, a row of them collapsed in seconds.

As Wang Yan predicted, the front-line fighters were either skilled or red sticks. Once those front-line fighters were down, the rest of the rabble would break on their own. The battle quickly shifted from mutual combat to one-sided pursuit.

The surrounding police were powerless. With limited manpower, they waited to clean up after the fight. They dared not fire—seeing Long Teng’s men bloodied and frenzied, they feared provoking them into turning on the cops.

So they simply watched, some even pointing and commenting with amusement, thoroughly entertained. Large-scale gang fights were far more thrilling than any movie.

After a long while, as Long Teng’s men grew tired and stopped chasing, the situation calmed. Only then did the police move in to clean up.

Soon after, ambulances arrived to carry away the wounded. Police cars rolled in one after another to make arrests.

The only men still standing were Long Teng’s. The East Star’s were either knocked down or fled. Long Teng’s men cooperated, submitting quietly to handcuffs. Their boss had said: don’t worry about being arrested—you’ll be out soon. And whoever stood to the end earned major credit—promotions and rewards guaranteed.

Wang Yan was a man who valued fairness. After a long day of hard work, he couldn’t let his men go hungry. Trucks of food and drinks were delivered to the scene and the Tuen Mun police station.

After all the chaos settled and no further disturbances arose, Wang Yan left to sleep. Whatever happened tomorrow, tomorrow would handle it.

The next morning, lawyers from the law firm arrived at the police station to post bail and retrieve their clients. As for the unfortunate fools caught in the brawl, the money wasn’t wasted—Chief Ho was covering it. Sending a few minor thugs to jail for two years was no big deal.

Besides, those losers were just hoodlums. Who cared, except perhaps their families?

After this battle, most of Wang Yan’s men were hospitalized, leaving his forces hollow. But the East Star was crippled too—already riddled with internal power struggles, their casualties were surely worse than Long Teng’s. Recruiting men cost money; this time alone, the East Star spent a million just to assemble their forces, not to mention medical care and family compensation.

Wang Yan didn’t look down on them—he doubted they’d even figured out how to pay for this fight, let alone dare come after him again.

Other gangs would only watch, gleeful and idle—no one would act unless their own interests were threatened.

Some might have been tempted, but Wang Yan’s recent dominance left them uncertain. Most crucially, Wang Yan’s reputation rested on personal strength. If they crushed Long Teng but failed to kill Wang Yan, who knew how he’d retaliate? Would they still have peace? Without absolute certainty of killing him, none dared move—it wasn’t worth risking their lives. Those who’d risen to power now mostly lived in comfort.

For now, every major gang in Kowloon and Hong Kong Island watched silently, none willing to intervene.

The East Star couldn’t mount another counterattack, and no other faction dared seize the opportunity. The moment for secure growth was here—Wang Yan wouldn’t expand further until he fully controlled Tuen Mun.

In the following period, Wang Yan focused on consolidation. He didn’t wander outside—he feared being shot from afar. He wasn’t afraid of close combat or even face-to-face threats, only snipers hiding at a distance. Who could guarantee the East Star wouldn’t hire a killer? So he stayed cautious, hiding within the territory he controlled.

With expanded territory, he needed more men. Thus, Long Teng launched another vigorous recruitment drive. The hoodlums saw hope—before, they came for better pay; now, they came for future prospects. A fledgling organization aiming for rapid growth must swiftly promote its best talent.

Just look at the recent battle with the East Star: even the lowest-ranking men were promoted at least one level. Many were promoted two or three levels—the difference in treatment was astronomical. Level one meant bottom-tier grunt. Level two meant commanding five or four men. Level three meant commanding over ten men. Higher still meant controlling a street, or a district spanning multiple streets.

Above level ten were true administrators. Level thirteen was the highest—true bosses, controlling all industries, with income uncapped, paid as profit shares. Long Teng currently had only one level thirteen: Li Yun, who had followed Wang Yan since the beginning.

Many rising stars emerged, including moles. Wang Yan could spot several—he knew they were elite, and he was a boss who gave chances; it was natural they wanted to climb. He didn’t interfere. As their status rose, whether they’d return to their original side was uncertain.

But for those with integrity and ideals, Wang Yan held respect.

Moles used fake identities—their families were hidden and well-protected. For those Wang Yan confirmed as moles, some of their families now worked in his companies—clearly, their loyalty was already compromised.

As recruitment surged, logistics companies, shoe factories, garment factories—all expanded rapidly. With more men, the insurance premiums Wang Yan had to pay for them grew substantially—a huge expense.

Wang Yan didn’t want others profiting from this—he founded Long Teng Insurance. It primarily served his own companies, but also took on other clients. Most were local Tuen Mun businesses—they’d witnessed the district’s transformation and trusted Long Teng’s strength. And since they operated on his turf, it made sense to use his service.

At this point, Wang Yan’s status paid off. With so many contracts, other companies’ business dwindled. No matter what tactics they used, they couldn’t break him. Normal competition? He ignored it—left to his managers. But if rivals played dirty? They were asking for trouble.

Insurance operators were big players with strong connections and a wide array of underhanded tactics. They’d launch random inspections, claim product defects. Wang Yan didn’t argue—Li Yun handled them decisively.

When inspectors came, they’d find the families, have a friendly chat, and identify the superior. Then trace up the chain, gather leverage, and either cooperate or report them. Those who refused? Most paid to make the problem disappear—those who didn’t had already “become one with the ocean.”

These actions made one thing clear: Long Teng wasn’t to be trifled with. Competition was fine—just don’t play dirty.

Long Teng didn’t run casinos, didn’t lend at usurious rates, didn’t sell drugs—even if someone sold them in Tuen Mun, Long Teng traced and destroyed the source. Utterly righteous. The police liked this—fewer messes to clean up.

If other gangs had wanted to move, they’d have moved already. Even during Long Teng’s vulnerable period after the battle with the East Star, they didn’t strike. Now? They couldn’t even match Long Teng.

Outmatched on both fronts, over time, those “hengs” realized the truth and stopped their useless schemes.

Moreover, Wang Yan reformed Tuen Mun. Thieves, petty criminals, and troublemakers were rounded up and severely punished—no one dared commit crimes again; they were nearly eradicated.

He also set up small offices on every street, staffed by a few men. Whoever suffered injustice or mistreatment in Tuen Mun could come to these offices—Long Teng would resolve it clearly. Some complained Long Teng meddled too much, but no one dared confront them—only muttered complaints when no one was around.

The Tuen Mun police were practically idle. Previously, they were overwhelmed with endless cases; now, there were none.

Uniformed officers had become coveted posts—no more patrolling streets. They just sat in Long Teng’s offices, sheltered from sun and rain, with meals provided—comfortable as hell.

Residents’ happiness index soared, causing property prices in Tuen Mun—a relatively remote area of Hong Kong—to skyrocket.

Of course, with such rapid growth, corruption was inevitable. Wang Yan’s solution: he founded an accounting firm to audit the finances of all his companies, domestic and overseas. He encouraged whistleblowing—anyone who exposed corruption was immediately promoted, and corrupt officials were severely punished.

Remember, all his companies operated under the thirteen-level system—pay was excellent. To still steal? That was pure greed.

After punishing a few, the problem largely vanished. When people took money, they thought of their predecessors, of how hard it was to reach this position—most gave up.

Domestically, things were fine too. Sharing Tuen Mun’s example intimidated many. If anyone acted, a few cases exposed and punished were enough.

Development inevitably drew East Star retaliation. They constantly sabotaged Wang Yan’s businesses—annoying, not deadly, but still causing losses. Wang Yan didn’t take it seriously—just kept an eye out. To truly solve it, he’d have to destroy the East Star. But that was coming soon—they wouldn’t last much longer.