Chapter 236: Let

After a long pause, Wang Yan said: "Do you have the latest heart examination results?"

"No, why?"

"Go get checked tomorrow."

"Hey, are you even capable? Aren't you a traditional Chinese doctor? What do you need medical scans for? And do you even know how much a full heart checkup costs? It's expensive, you know!" At the mention of spending money, Seeing Ruan Mei waved her hands frantically and rolled her eyes at Wang Yan: "Ugh, I must've lost my mind to believe a down-and-out thug like you."

Without another word, Wang Yan snapped his fingers against her forehead.

Seeing Ruan Mei yelped, instinctively clutching her head and crying out in pain, then launched a wild, unthinking counterattack at Wang Yan, showing no regard for his status. She, a sick woman living with an elderly grandmother, relied entirely on this hollow, blustering aggression.

It was also because Wang Yan was relatively kind; though her first impression of him was a thug destined for ruin, brief contact had let her sense he wasn't evil. Otherwise, she'd have been insane to provoke him.

"Enough." Wang Yan raised his voice slightly, halting Seeing Ruan Mei's wild punches: "Your heart disease is hereditary, isn't it?"

"How did you even know that?"

Seeing Ruan Mei stared at Wang Yan with wide, startled eyes.

"Are you stupid? Don't you keep up with the times?" Wang Yan said. "Who told you traditional Chinese medicine can't use Western medical exams to understand illness? Are you the fool for refusing to use such good equipment—or am I?"

"Fine, fine, I get it now. Why the yelling?" Seeing Ruan Mei pouted, then asked hopefully: "So… can you cure my illness?"

"Wait until you go to the hospital tomorrow, get the results, and bring them to me before I can say anything."

"Then… if you can cure it, how much will it cost?"

Wang Yan smiled at her: "How much money do you have?"

Seeing Ruan Mei opened her mouth to answer, then caught herself—things weren't settled yet, and she wasn't stupid. Her eyes darted around, calculating: "I only have one hundred thousand. I don't know if that's enough?"

Wang Yan wasn't blind to TV dramas—he knew Fang Zhanbo had swindled her out of three hundred thousand. Now she wanted to pay only one hundred thousand for treatment?

He shook his head, amused: "Seriously? You're haggling over life and death?"

Unembarrassed by being caught, Seeing Ruan Mei glared at him, neck stiff: "How do I know you can even cure me? What if you're a scammer trying to steal my money?"

"Then don't come at all."

Seeing Ruan Mei panicked, waving her hands frantically: "No, no! If you can cure me, say what you want—I'll do anything, really!"

She understood her illness well—past exams had told her America and Japan could cure it, but the cost was far beyond her means. Now, after stumbling upon this thug and seeing a glimmer of hope, how could she give up?

Wang Yan asked again: "How much money do you have?"

"Not much… just… a bit over two hundred thousand. I saved it up over a long time, cutting every corner." Seeing Ruan Mei bit her lip, feigning pitiful hesitation: "Is this enough?"

At that moment, laughter and chatter echoed down the hallway, then reached the door—eight men entered. Some bare-chested with tattoos, others with hair dyed in wild colors, some muscular, some thin—none of them decent. But they knew their manners: they blocked the doorway, stood in unison, and bowed respectfully: "Brother Yan."

The small room instantly grew cramped with so many people. Seeing Ruan Mei jumped up and darted behind Wang Yan—she was terrified.

One of them, watching Seeing Ruan Mei hide behind Wang Yan, grinned: "Brother Yan, is this your missus? She's gorgeous. You guys are clueless—why haven't you greeted her yet?"

Then, with the others, they all chorused: "Sister-in-law, hello!"

"No, no, I'm not!" Seeing Ruan Mei frantically waved her hands to explain.

Whoever this kid had been before, he was now the number two.

Wang Yan gave the speaking kid a satisfied look, then turned to Seeing Ruan Mei: "Alright, go home. After your hospital checkup tomorrow, bring me the results tonight. Oh, and tomorrow I want one roast chicken, one roast duck—and don't forget beer."

"You…" Seeing Ruan Mei opened her mouth to refuse, but seeing Wang Yan's casual demeanor—and remembering she still needed him to treat her—she swallowed her anger, as if feeding a dog: "Fine, eat, eat, eat—all you think about is eating. One day you'll choke on it."

She stood, pushed past the obediently parted crowd of kids, stormed back to her room across the hall, and slammed the door with a bang.

The kid who'd called her "sister-in-law" stared at the closed door: "Brother Yan, is she new? I've never seen her before. She's hot."

Wang Yan kicked him: "Show respect to your sister-in-law. Once. Only once. Don't do it again."

When he saw a person, the system automatically transmitted their data. This kid was Xu Guanwen—ironically, he was tall and burly, with no scholarly air whatsoever. He'd dropped out after fifth grade. He should've been named Xu Guanwu.

Xu Guanwen brushed off the kicked spot casually: "Brother Yan, where are we going today?"

Before, they'd go out to swell numbers for fights, sometimes beat up other small gangs for pocket money. They weren't rich, but they drank and ate meat every day, living like kings.

Wang Yan scanned the eight before him, then spoke slowly, voice sharp and clear: "Brothers, we can't keep living like this. We're all out here hustling—why do we live in public housing while they live in mansions? Why do we drive junk cars while they roll out in Mercedes? Why are we in rags while they wear suits and call themselves respectable elites? ……"

After a string of rhetorical comparisons highlighting their misery and stirring the boys' emotions, Wang Yan's gaze turned knife-sharp: "I think they don't deserve it. What about you?"

"Brother Yan, we're not satisfied either—why them and not us?"

"Yeah, Brother Yan, you call the shots—we follow you."

One idiotic kid spat a thick glob of phlegm on the floor, veins bulging in his neck, shouting: "Crush them!"

……

Hearing the commotion, Seeing Ruan Mei opened her door to see what was happening—then saw a pack of bloodthirsty thugs yelling. She flinched, glared at Wang Yan, and slammed her door shut.

Wang Yan's eyes turned dangerous as he stared at the kid who'd spat on the floor: "Good. I'm glad you've got this fire. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Today is the day we make our move."

"Yes, Brother Yan, let's do it!"

"Crush them!"

……

After another round of shouting, Xu Guanwen said: "Brother Yan, what's the plan?"

Wang Yan said: "We'll discuss the plan later. You—mop. The floor. Right now." He pointed at the kid who'd spat.

The kid shrank back: "I got too excited, Brother Yan—I'll do it, right away!" He snatched the mop and hurried out to the shared bathroom.

While he was gone, Wang Yan discussed the situation on Hong Kong Island with the kids—though "discussed" was a stretch; he was really gathering intel.

His Ma On Shan neighborhood belonged to Sha Tin District. Due to historical reasons, there was no Sha Tin New Town yet, and development mostly centered on Hong Kong Island and Kowloon. This area had little profit—barely different from northern New Territories. It was a no-man's-land: too poor for big gangs, too chaotic for small ones.

Of course, the poorer the place, the more crime festered. Combined with historical context, it was neither good nor bad—dozens of gangs with dozens of members thrived here.

Overall, Hong Kong's underworld environment hadn't changed much from history. Big Circle, Ho Tung, Chao gangs—all the real-world ones existed here too, dozens of them, many with thousands of underlings. And Lao Ding's Zhong Qing Society was one of the top two powerhouses on Hong Kong Island.

Wang Yan guessed the system, like in Infernal Affairs, had balanced things by bringing out figures like Chen Haonan—this time, it had simply resurrected existing gangs.

With the general picture clear, Wang Yan knew what to do. He subtly kept painting grand visions for the kids, subtly washing their minds, reinforcing loyalty. He was truly skilled at this—no surprise, he'd played boss too many times; much of it was instinctive…

By eight-thirty, Wang Yan led his eight kids in two broken-down cars to a nearby entertainment street and smashed up the joints. Though called a "street," it was just a few gambling dens, dance halls, and bars—all gathering spots for thugs. The area had limited capacity, and competition among these few spots was fierce.

The details aren't worth recounting—the outcome was inevitable. That night, except for a few powerful establishments, every other joint was wiped out by Wang Yan. As for the police who showed up—no problem. No victims filed complaints, and Wang Yan never admitted to being triad. A warning was enough—they had no legal ground to touch him.

The influence on surrounding forces was virtually nonexistent—after all, they were bottom-tier. The few groups Wang Yan hadn't touched assumed he was sensible, knew his place, and paid him no mind. Moreover, everyone here knew Wang Yan personally. And seeing how nine of them had fought so hard, none wanted to stir trouble unless it benefited them directly.

Afterward, he gathered his followers: those willing to stay continued under him; those unwilling were free to leave. But after Wang Yan announced a monthly salary of five thousand, not a single one walked away. The former big brothers who had resisted now cooperated fully after watching Wang Yan brutally break both legs and sever the tendons of a subordinate who challenged his authority.

Overnight, Wang Yan's forces swelled to over seventy men, along with hundreds of thousands in cash and several entertainment venues—though only the operating rights, not the actual property, which he couldn't seize. All in all, the gains were decent; his strength had grown a little.

The next day, Wang Yan rose as usual—at just past five. He put on loose shorts, a sleeveless shirt, and a pair of white sneakers, then strolled out for his morning exercise.

At the corner elevator, he spotted Luo Huiling waiting, wearing a cap.

Seeing Wang Yan approach, Luo Huiling was slightly surprised—how could this street thug be up so early? She turned her head away, pretending not to see him.

Watching it all, Wang Yan stepped forward and greeted her: "Up this early? Going to work?"

With only the two of them there, Luo Huiling couldn't pretend not to hear. She grunted a vague "Mm," brushing him off.

"I'm Wang Yan. What's your name?"

*Ding. * The elevator arrived. She muttered, "Elevator's here," and hurried inside, standing in the corner.

Wang Yan smiled warmly at the wary Luo Huiling: "We're neighbors—we see each other every day. Just saying hello. No need to be scared; I don't eat people. I've got some respect around here. If you run into trouble, just mention my name."

Luo Huiling forced a smile: "Thanks."

He got the cold shoulder, but Wang Yan didn't care. He turned his back to her, leaving only his head. The elevator fell silent; her suppressed breathing was clearly audible.

Fortunately, the awkwardness didn't last long. Soon, the elevator stopped, and a downstairs resident stepped in. Only then did Luo Huiling relax.

Exiting the elevator, Wang Yan watched Luo Huiling climb into the driver's seat of a bus parked by the roadside. He stretched his body briefly, then jogged toward Ma'an Mountain behind him.

Ma'an Mountain has two peaks: the lower one, over six hundred meters, is called Niu Ya Mountain; the higher one, seven hundred meters, is called Ma Tou Ding. Between them lies a long arc, resembling a horse saddle—hence the name Ma'an Mountain.

Wang Yan, of course, climbed to the highest peak—summiting the mountain.

The mountain wasn't far, and the climb wasn't strenuous. Soon, he reached the top. Through the mist, facing the morning sun, he found a flat spot overlooking the eastern sea and began practicing his moves, one by one.

Soon, sunlight pierced the mist, bathing the peak and Wang Yan's body. The salty sea breeze blew gently. Beyond, waves crashed against the coastal cliffs. Far on the horizon, seabirds cried as they hunted. Wang Yan spun, leaped, twisted, and darted across the summit—his movements making him look like a true master, untouched by time.

After this morning's training, he felt good. He decided to make this his routine. Though it took more time traveling back and forth, he had no real obligations—just wandering, enjoying himself.

Truth be told, Wang Yan had never before practiced like this on a mountaintop. Mainly because he'd always lived in the city, with no mountains nearby. Even when he'd previously hung around here twice, during *Infernal Affairs* he hadn't yet reached such high martial skill, and during *Once Upon a Time in Hong Kong*, he'd spent most of his life in Kowloon, rarely moving—only training by the sea.

He descended by eight. Near the mountain, he ate a quick Hong Kong-style breakfast at a nearby shop, then strolled back, smoking a cigarette.

The residents here were poor. By this hour, all the able-bodied had left for work; only the elderly and young children, not yet school-aged, ran wildly through the corridors.

Wang Yan's intimidation was undeniable. Seeing him return, the children dared not make a sound—they fled back to their rooms or hid behind their elders.

Wang Yan didn't bother with the kids. He walked to the room opposite his own and banged loudly on the door.

"Coming, coming! Knock gently—the door costs money to fix!" Ruan Mei shouted, opening the door in a floral pajama set. Seeing Wang Yan, she snapped: "What do you want?"

"Bored out of your mind? Checking if you went to the hospital," Wang Yan grinned. "Also, don't forget the roast chicken, duck, and beer tonight."

Ruan Mei glared at him: "Ugh, I know already! You're so annoying…" With that, she slammed the door shut.

Wang Yan was truly idle. He'd spent over twenty years busy in the last world, then another month in this one. Now, suddenly free, he felt a little unaccustomed.

After teasing Ruan Mei, Wang Yan returned to his room and spent the morning reading and writing, bored. Then he went out again to the territory he'd taken over yesterday.

His newly recruited, bruised and swollen subordinates were already waiting in a bar.

Wang Yan gathered them for no other reason than to exercise, build strength, and teach a few moves. He couldn't keep doing everything himself—that'd be beneath a boss like him. After ten or so days of training, once their wounds healed, they'd be ready for the next round of expansion.

With no initial capital and his promise of five thousand per month, he couldn't stop expanding. Otherwise, without external threats, his own crew would collapse. He was paying out hundreds of thousands monthly in salaries—how else to run things, how to grow?

Even if he wanted to go legitimate, he'd need to amass enough capital first before stepping away from the underworld. Starting from scratch, step by step, would take forever. Besides, what he was doing in the real world was already interesting—he didn't need to play Wang Ba in some film world.

For now, Wang Yan became a fitness coach, training a gang of thugs.

At first, the thugs were enthusiastic—after all, their boss was teaching them Wu Gong. But then came a barrage of jumping and hopping, leaving them exhausted, groaning and complaining. If they could endure hardship, they wouldn't have become thugs in the first place—bricklaying paid well too. They became thugs for prestige, for comfort—not suffering. Soon, some openly complained to Wang Yan.

They conveniently forgot the miserable state of the subordinate Wang Yan had broken the legs of yesterday. Wang Yan didn't blame them. He listened to their complaints with a smile, then without a word, kicked them all.

The effect was obvious. After witnessing the brutal suppression of the brave few who dared to demand better treatment, the rest regained their training zeal.

Truthfully, thugs had high executive ability—especially Wang Yan's. Clear rules, strict punishments, and decent benefits were key. But most crucial of all: Wang Yan's absolute power.

Training ended at five p. m. Since they had to work the night shift guarding venues, Wang Yan finally dismissed them—amid the hopeful, half-dead stares of his subordinates. Then, at his own expense, he bought alcohol and meat to treat them to dinner—nutrition had to be replenished.

Wang Yan packed some food and returned to the public housing. The moment he opened his door, Ruan Mei's door across the hall swung open.

"Hey, aren't you thugs supposed to be active at night? I've been waiting for you a long time."

"First, my name is Wang Yan. Remember it—call me 'Yan Ge.' Second, who says thugs must go out at night and stay home by day?" Wang Yan chuckled, lowering his raised finger. "Did you buy the roast chicken, duck, and beer?"

"You're heartless," Ruan Mei rolled her eyes. "You know I have heart disease—don't you at least ask if I got my test results? All you care about is eating and drinking. You'll choke on it someday."

Wang Yan didn't care. "I brought back some stuff—let's have dinner together." He brushed past Ruan Mei, who blocked the doorway, and strode inside, casually lifting the food…