"Boom!"
It was like being struck in the chest by a sledgehammer. Just as Chen Mo raised his laptop, he was hurled across the room and slammed into the wall.
The deep, muffled sound of gunfire echoed through the air. With a soft clink, a bullet rolled from the laptop casing onto the floor, its fall ringing crisp and clear.
For a moment, the room fell into dead silence.
Was this a joke? Was that truly just a laptop? Had it really stopped a bullet?
"Who fired that shot?!"
Only seconds later, Chang Goldtooth staggered backward in sudden realization and drew his sidearm with a jerk.
He had seen it clearly. If Chen Mo hadn't lifted the laptop at that instant, the bullet would've struck him squarely.
Bang!
Before he could finish speaking, a second gunshot rang out. But this time, Chang was ready—he dodged sideways in a sudden evasive move.
A pained cry pierced the air. The man beside him—Scar Liu—had been shot in the shoulder and collapsed onto the ground.
"Watch out!"
As the fat man bellowed his warning, everyone instinctively dove to the floor—while simultaneously pointing their guns at each other.
By now, Chang Goldtooth couldn't restrain himself and roared, "Goddammit! It's one of our own! Someone betrayed our gathering—"
Bang!
Before the words were out of his mouth, a third gunshot shattered the sunlight lamp atop the hall's dome. Darkness consumed the room.
In the bizarre chaos, a gun misfired. Screams, curses, and the sounds of struggle erupted all at once.
Undeniably, darkness tends to bring out the worst in human nature—and which of these underworld lords didn't harbor private vendettas?
Gunshots rang out—who was fighting whom was anyone's guess. The metallic tang of blood quickly filled the air.
"Damn it! I didn't do anything—I was just here doing push-ups!"
Face wet with tears, Chen Mo lay prone, even as someone stomped on his hand—yet he clenched his teeth and stayed silent.
Was this a joke? If he got killed in this madness, not even the King of Hell would hear his complaints.
When the shouting finally lessened, he used the faint glow from his laptop to crawl toward a nearby wooden table.
"Soy sauce, soy sauce, just here to fetch some soy sauce…"
Chanting like a mantra, Chen Mo scrambled forward and, just as another shot rang out behind him, dove beneath the table.
But then he froze, dumbfounded—right before him, that fat man was sitting cross-legged on the floor, calmly cradling a bag of meth.
"Seriously?"
Chen Mo rolled his eyes. Addicts really knew no time or place.
What shocked him more was what came next. The guy tossed aside the syringe and directly popped a crystal into his mouth, eyes rolling back in pure bliss.
"What the hell?!"
Chen Mo was floored. Even heroin users stuck to IV injection. And this man was eating meth like candy?
Apparently sensing Chen Mo's stare, the fat man lazily waved. "Hey, you. Come sit. Got a cigarette?"
"Yeah… but it's not a great brand," Chen Mo muttered, handing over a pack of Double Happiness.
"Thanks!"
The man didn't mind. He took one, took a few puffs, and then casually nodded toward the chaos outside. "Don't worry. Old Chang and Liu go at it every year… By the way, I'm Zhou Dashan, sub-leader of Wu Yi Hall's Fufang Street branch."
"Well, the name fits," Chen Mo said, eyeing his massive frame. "I'm Chen Mo. Main job's food delivery. Side gigs include—selling AV, security, ghostwriting, spying on cheating lovers… I'll do anything if it pays."
They exchanged a look and shook hands with sleazy grins.
Chen Mo passed over another cigarette and couldn't help but feel this man was somehow… kindred.
Zhou Dashan probably felt the same. He raised the meth bag with a grin. "Wanna try? We're stuck here anyway."
"Thanks, but no." Chen Mo stepped back instinctively. "I'm poor. Can't afford that stuff—ah!"
Mid-sentence, Zhou suddenly tossed a piece toward him, which landed square in Chen Mo's mouth.
Startled, Chen Mo tried to spit it out—but a second later, he sniffed. "Wait… it's sweet? Meth is sweet?"
"Heh, you've tried it before?" Zhou squinted cheerfully, his eyes nearly lost in his fat. "Relax, that's not meth. It's sugar crystal candy. Looks convincing though, right?"
"Goddamn it!"
Chen Mo wanted to punch someone. Using rock candy to impersonate meth—worse than using flour as fake heroin.
"No choice!" Zhou spread his arms innocently. "It's hard being a gangster these days. If you're not acting tough, no one respects you. Using sugar instead of meth is already restrained—Old Liu bought a missile, for God's sake! Who knows where from!"
Respect. Complete and utter respect.
Chen Mo sighed. Sure, they got the missile… but how did Scar Liu plan to launch it? Swing it in a fistfight?
"Maybe with a sledgehammer?" Zhou suggested, then paused and tilted his head. "Wait. Sounds like they've calmed down. Let's go clean up."
Without even checking, he lifted the tablecloth and crawled out.
Chen Mo sighed and cautiously followed. His worry, however, proved needless.
Only about a dozen people were still standing. They looked like war refugees.
Chang Goldtooth leaned against the altar, holding a candle, his face a bruised mess, swearing loudly, "F—! Who the hell sucker-punched me?! And spat on me too!"
Everyone looked around, inwardly thinking:
Sure, spitting's low. But your kick-to-the-balls move wasn't exactly saintly either.
Fortunately, despite the chaos, cooler heads had somewhat prevailed. Aside from a few gunshot wounds, no one had actually died.
And the one with the most poise?
Zhou Dashan, standing with hands behind his back, sighed. "See? I told you—peace and love, people. But you never listen…"
That did it.
The few still-standing gangsters who hadn't yet bled out now spat blood in rage.
Unbothered by their glares, Zhou nonchalantly patted his belly. After enjoying the show, he clapped his hands. "Alright, now that everyone's vented, let's talk business. I figure we've got a few months of peace ahead—"
He suddenly paused mid-sentence, as if sensing something, then lunged aside with a speed that belied his size.
At that instant, sparks burst from a stone pillar as a masked man emerged from behind the curtain, twin pistols raised—
"Watch out!"
Gunfire erupted. A bullet slammed into Zhou's left shoulder—but missed anything vital, thanks to his swift reaction.
The masked man didn't hesitate. With a flick, he drew a second pistol. Both now aimed at the stunned crowd.
Chen Mo froze.
No time to think. He hurled his laptop like a throwing star. "Eat this, sucker!"
The laptop spun through the air, absurdly large for a hidden weapon—Rain of Blossoms, eat your heart out.
The masked man smirked. He had already calculated the trajectory. He fired.
But then—
Mid-flight, the laptop suddenly halted, hovering in the air for several surreal seconds.
In those brief moments, all bullets struck it harmlessly. Not a single one reached the crowd.
"What the hell?"
Everyone stared, dumbfounded. Then instinct kicked in—they dove for cover.
The masked man, meanwhile, leapt back, rolling to the foot of the Guan Yu statue. Twin guns raised once more—
"You there—security guard," he sneered. "Any last wor—"
"Master Guan!"
Chen Mo bellowed, eyes locked on the statue, "Save me!"
"Fool."
Backed against the statue, the man pulled the trigger. "No one can save—"
"Really?"
The thunderous voice that answered shook the air.
A storm of energy exploded outward. The masked man staggered, overwhelmed by the sheer presence.
Under the astonished gazes of all present, the statue of Guan Yu stroked its beard, glared with righteous fury—and moved.
It leapt down, blade glowing with a spectral azure light. "Wretched knave—do you not recognize Lord Guan?"
"What?!"
The assailant raised his guns in desperation.
CLANG!
The twin pistols were blasted into the air—shattered mid-flight by the blade.
With a snort, Guan Yu swept his saber again, the arc forming a dragon-shaped shockwave.
The masked man cried out in pain, struck in the shoulder and sent flying.
Realizing he was no match, he tossed a smoke bomb before hitting the ground. Black smoke filled the air—no one dared pursue.
But Guan Yu?
He was just getting started.
"Where do you think you're going! Witness my Crescent Moon Slash! I slash! I slash again! Slash, slash, slash!"
His voice faded as he chased after the intruder—whether he was carving flesh or chopping dumpling stuffing was anyone's guess.
Chen Mo sighed and followed, hoping the guy wasn't minced meat already.
In the eerie silence that followed, a roomful of gangsters exchanged stunned looks.
Chang Goldtooth bit his thumb and mumbled, "Honey… come see God."