Chapter 83

Upon reaching the gate of the residential complex, I still felt a lingering unease in my heart; Pangzi, this natural simpleton, still oblivious to danger, muttered about going back to snatch that military sword from Fan Wuchang's hand.

"Pang bro, people rely on this knife to eat!" Yuan Qiu kindly reminded.

Pangzi let out an "eh", blinked his eyes, and earnestly looked at Yuan Qiu asking, "He eats with chopsticks, doesn't he? How does one eat with a knife?" His tone carried 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 a look of helplessness. Don't make me 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.

Upon hearing there was food, Pangzi's eyes lit up; he rubbed his round belly, eagerly urging: "Hurry up, Your Highness, my stomach is so empty my chest sticks to my belly. Just thinking about the shrimp dumplings I ate today, that flavor—" As he spoke, he couldn't help licking his lips.

The three were about to head out of the complex, but the moment they turned back, they 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 order flag again.

"What… what are you doing?" I asked, on guard 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 our execution.

In response to my question, Fan Wuchang did not 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 directly opened the car's driver door and got in.

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

Pangzi stood there like a morning bell and evening drum, dazed for a long while; when he finally snapped back, he involuntarily grinned and said: "Damn, it seems Chen Zheng is being difficult—he's unhappy unless we smash his stuff."

Startled, I and Yuan Qiu, who was walking ahead, stumbled; I really wanted to seal Pangzi's foul mouth with tape.

After leaving the residential complex in Fan Wuchang's car, the several escort vehicles followed us all the way to a remote suburb, where Fan Wuchang's car and those escorts finally stopped.

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

In my original expectation, even if his residence wasn't extravagantly luxurious, it should still be very imposing; how could he live in a house that ordinary people live in?

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

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

On the upstairs sofa sat a person in white clothing. Because his back was to me and the sofa blocked the view, I couldn't see his full face—only his white‑haired rear head.

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 that machine to this end of the sofa.

This was a popular game console at the time—I forget its name—operated with two joysticks. Simply inserting various game discs into the "DVD" unit lets you 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 "elder brother Zheng", Fan Wuchang's eyes widened, his face looking as if filled with excrement, full of shock.

Not only him, but I and Yuan Qiu were also stunned by the scene before us; to describe our mood in a sentence, it felt as if ten thousand alpacas were galloping through our hearts.

In the blink of an eye, Pangzi—old man that he is—whooshed forward, his heavy body moving at breakneck speed, shooting past everyone to stand beside the white‑haired elder. He then carelessly grabbed a nearby joystick and plopped down into the adjacent chair with a thud.

If Pangzi has any hobbies… besides 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. Back then Pangzi would sit at someone's house and play for an entire afternoon, only putting down the joystick grudgingly after QingSongShu scowled and barked at him.

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

Now, upon seeing this game machine again, Pangzi was like a curious child spotting a Ferris wheel—his eyes and body couldn't tear away. Delighted at the prospect, he prepared to challenge Chen Zheng to two rounds.

But… was he sure this wouldn't anger 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 overlord of Dongling, the co‑ruler of the Aomen underworld… Chen Zheng.

I've heard that such high‑ranking figures usually have tempers that change on a whim—can we really just barge in and play?

I and Yuan Qiu watched from the side, hearts pounding; even Fan Wuchang remained dazed for a while after the game started, staring blankly, not knowing whether he was dumbstruck or having a mental spasm.

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 went on, and Pangzi occasionally burst out with profanity: "Damn, why is this Orochi so weak? That makes no sense—I remember Kusanagi lighting fires like this!"

Swearing loudly, he casually reached for a biscuit from the basket on the table, stuffed it in his mouth, and mumbled to Chen Zheng: "Again."

The second bout began. Pangzi laughed and played with abandon, while we spectators kept a bead of cold sweat on our foreheads. My feelings were extreme—part worry, part speechlessness—both stemming from me, yet the focus remained solely on Pangzi.

Time slipped away quietly; in my impression, Chen Zheng never showed anger. The match had already gone five rounds, with wins and losses alternating; whenever Pangzi won, he would involuntarily shout, clench his fist and yell "Ye!"; when he lost, he'd slump, stuff a biscuit into his mouth, and defiantly shout at Chen Zheng: "Again."

I and Yuan Qiu exchanged a glance, seeing the wry smile in each other's eyes. Pangzi is just like that—he often does something shocking that leaves us worried and speechless.

Moreover, this guy's luck is enviable: although he intends to cause trouble, he always ends up with surprisingly good results, whether I acknowledge it or not; heaven inexplicably bestows on Pangzi a favor that others envy but cannot obtain.

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

It seems what books and movies say isn't necessarily true—who says important figures must have fickle tempers? Important people become important because they can endure; their minds can hold all manner of great figures, disputes, and trifles. Small people, however, may grow jealous over a couple of trivial matters, resentful over a couple of people, and become trapped by greed, ignorance, and anger.

This is the state of mind—don't think only Daoists experience the myriad facets of life in the mortal crucible to purify their mindset. In this world, every blade of grass and tree undergoes a gradual transformation; as a person evolves from a small figure to a great one, their mindset is refined and transmuted through worldly experience.

An ancient proverb serves as the best proof: "Those who wish to accomplish great deeds must forge a hundred forbearances into gold and embrace all rivers."