Chapter 355: Chen Zheng Invites, the White-Haired Hero

Having stepped out to the residential complex's gate, I still felt a lingering unease in my heart; Pangzi, this clueless fool, still oblivious to danger, muttered about wanting to go back and snatch that military knife from Fan Wuchang's hand.

"Pang bro, people rely on that knife to make a living!" Yuan Qiu reminded him kindly.

Pangzi let out an 'eh', blinked, and earnestly looked at Yuan Qiu asking, 'He eats, doesn't he use chopsticks? How do you eat with a knife?' His tone held a hint of doubt and a hint of innocence.

'Eh...' Yuan Qiu choked up a little, looking at me for help. I rubbed my forehead, also wearing an expression of helplessness. Don't ask me to persuade Pangzi; his innocence has already defeated all my words.

"Let's go! I'm hungry, let's find something to eat." I nudged Pangzi with my elbow, urging him on.

Upon hearing there was food, Pangzi's eyes lit up; he rubbed his round belly and urged eagerly, 'Hurry up, Your Highness—my stomach is so empty my chest sticks to my belly. Just thinking about those shrimp dumplings we had today, that flavor—' He kept talking, still licking his lips, unsatisfied.

The three of us were about to head out of the residential complex, but the moment we turned back, we suddenly saw someone who shouldn't have been there.

Fan Wuchang appeared like a ghost, somehow showing up three meters ahead of us and blocking our path.

My heart tightened, and I quickly pulled out the command flag again.

"Y-you... what are you doing?" I asked, wary and cautious. I wondered if he was angry and ashamed, preparing to take our lives, or if Chen Zheng, after hearing his account, had ordered him to come and slaughter us.

Faced with my question, Fan Wuchang didn't answer directly; instead, he took a deep drag of his cigarette, and after a long while, he flicked away the butt.

"Let's go, Elder Brother Zheng wants to see you!" Having said that, he flung open the car's driver door and climbed in.

I, Pangzi, and Yuan Qiu exchanged glances, remaining dazed for a while. After a moment, Yuan Qiu seemed as if struck by a bell, excitedly grabbing Pangzi and shouting, 'Pang bro, you made it—you passed Elder Brother Zheng's test, you passed!'

Like a morning bell and evening drum, Pangzi remained dazed for a long time; when he finally snapped out of it, he involuntarily broke into a grin: 'Damn, it seems Chen Zheng is being difficult—he won't be happy unless we smash his stuff.'

Startled, I and Yuan Qiu, who was walking ahead, both stumbled; I really wanted to slap some tape over Pangzi's crow-like mouth.

After we left the residential complex's gate in Fan Wuchang's car, those few escort vehicles followed suit, escorting us all the way to a remote suburb before Fan Wuchang's car and the escort vehicles finally came to a stop.

Before us stood a two-story ordinary building, facing away from the sea, situated at the center of the lawn. Compared to the previous luxurious residential complex, this building was utterly insignificant. Although the building seemed somewhat tranquil and serene in that spot, I still couldn't imagine that a venerable boss of Dongling would actually live in such a 'dilapidated' house.

In my original expectation, even if his residence wasn't the height of luxury, it should still be quite imposing—how could he live in a house that only ordinary people would inhabit?

Perhaps, important figures have a quirk that ordinary people cannot comprehend.

After we three arrived at the building, we didn't dare go straight in; instead, we waited for Fan Wuchang to inform the household steward, and only then did we follow him inside.

On the second-floor sofa sat a person dressed in white. Since his back was to me and the sofa blocked the view, I couldn't see his full face—only his white-haired crown.

In front of this 'old man', against the wall of the living room, there was a television, and beside it a device similar to a DVD player, with two cables running from the machine to this end of the sofa.

This was a popular game console at the time—I forget its name—operated with two joysticks. As long as you inserted various game discs into the 'DVD' machine, you could start playing.

Fan Wuchang approached the old man lightly, his expression slightly solemn, his body slightly bowed, and he respectfully called out, 'Zheng...'

However, before he could finish saying 'Brother Zheng', Fan Wuchang's eyes widened, his face filling with an expression as if stuffed with feces, brimming with shock.

Not only him, but I and Yuan Qiu were also stunned by the scene before us; in a single phrase, our feeling could be described as 'ten thousand alpacas galloping through our hearts'.

In the blink of an eye, Pangzi—well, the old man—whooshed forward, his heavy body moving at breakneck speed, swooping past everyone to reach the white-haired elder's side. He then carelessly grabbed a nearby joystick and plopped down into the adjacent chair with a thud.

If Pangzi has any hobbies... aside from pestering Silijing, playing the King of Fighters game is one of them.

Earlier, when we followed QingSongShu to run errands for some wealthy families, we also saw this kind of game machine. At that time, Pangzi would sit in someone else's house and play for an entire afternoon, until QingSongShu, with a grim face, bellowed, and only then did Pangzi reluctantly put down the joystick.

Later, after returning home, Pangzi prepared to buy one, but QingSongShu said the device would ruin one's ambition and flatly refused. Helpless, Pangzi had to shelve that little idea.

Now, having encountered this game machine again, Pangzi was like a curious child who had just seen a Ferris wheel—his eyes and body couldn't tear away. Seizing the moment, he prepared to go head-to-head with Chen Zheng for two rounds.

But... was he sure this wouldn't provoke them?

Although I couldn't make out the white-haired old man's appearance, Fan Wuchang's attitude already made it clear that the other person playing King of Fighters on the sofa was none other than the head of Dongling, the co-ruler of the Aomen underworld... Chen Zheng.

I've heard that such high-ranking bigwigs usually have tempestuous tempers—can we really just jump on stage like that?

I and Yuan Qiu, watching from the side, were hearts pounding with fear and anxiety; even Fan Wuchang remained dazed for a while. Only when the game started did he still stare, eyes wide, dumbfounded—whether he was stunned or his brain had cramped, we couldn't tell.

Contrary to our expectations, Chen Zheng didn't get angry; he grabbed a joystick and really went head-to-head with Pangzi.

Still, the match proceeded, and Pangzi occasionally burst out with a curse: 'Damn, why is this Orochi so weak? No way—I remember that Kyo Kusanagi sets fire like this!'

Swearing nonchalantly, he casually grabbed a biscuit from the basket on the table, stuffed it into his mouth, and mumbled toward Chen Zheng, 'Again!'

The second match began. Pangzi chuckled and laughed, thoroughly enjoying himself; as onlookers, we constantly had a bead of cold sweat on our foreheads. My feelings were extremely conflicted—very worried yet also speechless. Though both emotions stemmed from my heart, the focus remained solely on Pangzi.

Time quietly slipped by; in my impression, Chen Zheng never showed anger. The battle had already gone on for five rounds, with wins and losses. Whenever Pangzi won, he couldn't help but shout, clutching his fist and yelling 'Ye!' When he lost, he'd slump, stuff a biscuit into his mouth, and, unwilling to concede, shout at Chen Zheng, 'Again!'

I and Yuan Qiu exchanged glances, both seeing the wry smile in each other's eyes. Pangzi is just like that—he often does something earth-shattering that leaves us worried and speechless.

But this guy's luck is incredibly enviable; despite his mischievous mindset, he always ends up with surprisingly good results, whether I acknowledge it or not—heaven inexplicably bestows upon Pangzi a favor that others envy but cannot obtain.

Standing to Pangzi's right, from this angle I could faintly see Chen Zheng's profile—he wore gold-rimmed glasses, and the corners of his mouth perpetually hinted at a faint smile, giving an overall impression of great calm.

It seems what books and movies say aren't necessarily true—who says big figures must have fickle tempers? Big figures become big because they can endure, their breadth able to encompass all manner of important persons, disputes, and trifles. Small figures, however, may grow envious over a couple of trivial matters, hold grudges, and be troubled by greed, ignorance, and anger.

This is the state of mind—don't think only Daoists experience the myriad facets of mortal life in the crucible of the red dust, purifying their minds. In this world, every blade of grass and tree undergoes a gradual process; as a person evolves from a small figure to a great one, their mindset is refined and transformed in the midst of human affairs.

A proverb from ancient times to the present serves as the best proof: 'Those who wish to accomplish great deeds must forge patience into gold and embrace a hundred rivers.'