SA 19.1

In the darkness, it seemed as though a strong hand reached out, slowly wrapping around his thigh, gently stroking, yet causing him to shiver all over.

The man, speaking English with a heavy foreign accent and a hint of a smile, said, “Be a good boy, do you know how much your life is worth in dollars? Yet, I can’t bear to kill you, you should at least compensate me…”

He lay on the bed, coldly watching the man on top of him. He didn’t resist, because previous attempts to resist had only resulted in more bruises and cuts across his face and body. Now, the shock and fear he had felt seeing his mother’s body in a pool of blood three days ago were completely numbed. His feeble struggles seemed like a joke to the man before him.

“Damn… are all Eastern boys like you? Born whores!” The man became frenzied, biting his chest savagely, “If you want to live, you’d better listen to me! Chen Chen!”

Don’t say my name! Don’t use your filthy, lowly voice to say my name! He glared hatefully at the hired assassin, but his blood-stained face remained expressionless, even subtly parting his legs, allowing the man to penetrate him more recklessly, even to ejaculate inside him.

He was tortured in that dim basement for five whole days.

The man toyed with his body in every imaginable way, applying aphrodisiacs sold to the lowest of prostitutes on his erect penis, then doing everything possible to make it flaccid, repeatedly.

He couldn’t bear it anymore. He had cried and begged, but only received even crueler sexual abuse in return.

Eventually, he learned to moan, to whimper pleasurably when penetrated. And then, in the early hours of the fifth day, as the man had him straddle his waist, as the man ejaculated like an animal, a gunshot sounded.

The man’s blood and brains splattered all over him, the penis inside him still swelling and twitching as it released semen. What a bizarre scene it was, yet as Chen Chen stared into the assassin’s bulging, rolled-back eyes, the scum reached his final climax in life.

When Chen Chen walked out of the basement, it was three o’clock in the morning,

He crossed New York’s infamous Harlem district alone in the dead of night, and not a single person dared to trouble this frail Asian man.

Has it been thirteen years already? How could it… come to mind again?

Chen Chen squinted his eyes and answered the phone, “What’s up?” After a brief pause, he laughed, his voice soft and kind, “Is that so? Don’t interfere. Let him have his fun. This grievance was bound to be aired sooner or later.”

He hung up the phone with a smile and slowly glanced at the wall clock. It was three in the morning.

The final round of the game had begun.

Several men hurriedly made their way to the docks under cover of darkness. Tucked away in an inconspicuous corner was a speedboat.

“Watanabe, can I… really escape?” The once-powerful gang lord, Zhong Qinglin, now trembled with desperation, as pitiful as a rat running across the street.

Watanabe curled his lips slightly, “Escape or not, you must try. There’s no place left for you in Hong Kong, Boss Zhong. You should know, the moment you show your face, how many are waiting to take your head to curry favor with Chen Chen. Yamashita group’s offer to shelter you in Japan is your last resort.”

Zhong Qinglin swallowed hard. Twenty years ago, he would have exploded in anger at such an indignity, but now, his greatest fear was being abandoned by the Yamashita group, this last lifeline. “And the person meeting us…”

“They’ll be there,” Watanabe said, glancing at him with a hint of mockery.

People really shouldn’t grow old.

At that moment, a gunshot rang out like a signal, followed by a barrage of rapid gunfire. The already nervous Zhong Qinglin and his men scattered in panic as blood sprayed everywhere.

Watanabe pulled Boss Zhong behind a shipping container. Zhong Qinglin trembled as he stammered, “Did Chen Chen find me? You said it would be safe!”

Watanabe pressed his lips together and gripped his pistol tightly. The shooter’s aim was terrifyingly accurate, with nearly every shot proving fatal. Yet, strangely, no stray bullets landed near him or Zhong Qinglin.

The gunfire stopped abruptly. In the air, thick with the metallic scent of blood, an eerie silence fell, heavy and suffocating.

Who was it in the end?

The remaining three subordinates gathered around Zhong Qinglin, their bodies trembling, each face etched with despair. If Chen Chen knew they were attempting to escape by sea, they truly had no chance. Like a cat playing with a dying mouse, Chen Chen would drive them relentlessly into a corner, leading them to their deaths.

“What do we do, Watanabe? You said you could get me out of Hong Kong safely!” Zhong Qinglin’s voice was filled with fear. He was truly frightened, even regretting his decision to compete for power with Chen Chen. In less than twenty-four hours, Chen Chen had completely uprooted his forces and cut off all external support.

He should never have provoked him. How could he have ever believed Chen Chen was just a pampered rich boy relying on his father?

“Calm down!” Watanabe said sharply, his eyes scanning the surroundings. “This might not even be Chen Chen’s doing. But escaping by water is no longer an option. We need another way, through the sky!”

“An airplane? No, that won’t work. Chen Chen will definitely notice!” Zhong Qinglin shook his head frantically, his panic evident in his voice.

“This is your last chance. Whether you leave Hong Kong or not is up to you!” Watanabe’s tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.

—-

“Daniel! What are you doing? You’re being too rash!” Several fully armed men hissed at Ye Jingsheng.

Ye Jingsheng shifted his gaze from the scope and slowly set down his rifle. “I’m the leader of this operation. It’s not your place to tell me what to do.”

Hank angrily pointed at Ye Jingsheng. “Mr. Pei letting you come back was already a big enough gesture of leniency! Don’t forget, our mission isn’t to kill Zhong Qinglin!”

Ye Jingsheng turned coldly. “Have we killed him yet?”

“Where are you going?!”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“You can’t just act on your own! These people are powerful figures in the underworld. We need concrete evidence to arrest them!”

Ye Jingsheng stopped in his tracks. Evidence?

He suddenly spun around, his “King Cobra” revolver already in hand, and fired. Several of his unprepared teammates were struck, collapsing to the ground with groans of pain.

Hank, clutching his injured left knee, still managed to grab hold of Ye Jingsheng’s pant leg. His voice was hoarse as he shouted, “Daniel, how will you explain this to Mr. Pei? Are you planning to betray WUP again?!”

Ye Jingsheng yanked his leg free and spoke calmly, “Explain? There’s no need.”

To hell with all these notions of the underworld and righteousness, of evil and justice. He only knew one thing. If he didn’t take revenge, he wouldn’t even deserve to call himself a man.

One wanted to unify the underworld and rule everything. Another sought to eradicate crime, maintaining extreme good through extreme evil. They were all self-proclaimed heroes, visionaries with grand ambitions.

And he? He was nothing but a pawn, exploited and discarded as cannon fodder.

He would not make the same mistakes again.