Master of Chinese Martial Arts: I Can Steal the Skills of a Grandmaster from the Republic of China E

Chapter 104 I conquer the world, you rule it?

The next day, there were still two days until the River God Festival began.

Police station meeting room.

Renault convened a meeting with the core members of the special investigation team.

The meeting room was sparsely smoked. Renault sat in the main seat, a silver coin silently turning between his fingers.

"The investigation into the underground caves can now be considered complete."

Renault gave the order: "The publicly available leads have been mostly cleared out. What's left are just rats in the ditch, not a threat."

His gaze swept over Zhou Xing: "Detective Zhou, you've worked hard these past few days. We need someone to keep an eye on the docks and opium dens we just took over in the flower field area."

Zhong Ding is familiar with the social interactions there, so he will be primarily responsible for all matters related to the flower arrangement area and will report to you. Lieutenant Hans will still be with you, assisting with daily tasks.

With the River God Festival approaching, your main focus should be on ensuring stability in the expanded concession area. There's no need for further travel outside for now.

"

Upon hearing this, the others all looked over with varying expressions.

Although it was said that he reported to Zhou Xing on matters, it was more like a sinecure with no real power. Despite all the fanfare he had generated, the French Concession was ultimately ruled by the foreigners.

Zhong Ding sat diagonally opposite Zhou Xing. Upon hearing the command, he straightened his back a little and couldn't suppress the upturn of his lips.

He was indeed riding high these past few days. Zhou Xing had waded through the muddy waters of the flower market and offended the people, but Renault had entrusted him with the delicate tasks of appeasing the locals, taking over the business, and distributing the benefits.

In his view, this was a signal that the higher-ups ultimately trusted someone like him who knew how to read the room and cultivate relationships.

"Yes, Captain."

Zhou Xing responded without any extra expression, without asking why, simply obeying orders.

Zhong Ding couldn't contain himself. After the meeting, he hurried a few steps to stand shoulder to shoulder with Zhou Xing, his voice low but his breath hot against Zhou Xing's ear: "Detective Zhou, only you, as a powerful figure, can keep those scoundrels in the flower garden in check in check. Don't worry, leave the specific details to me. You just stay at headquarters and guard against any relentless counterattacks."

Sigh, there are just a lot of miscellaneous things to do, and I'll have to bother you a lot with making decisions. Let's brothers work together and make this area more manageable for the team leader.

Zhou Xing didn't stop walking, only glancing at him sideways.

Are they worried I'll seize power? I conquer the world, you sit on it? Fine.

"Do a good job."

Zhou Xing replied and walked straight to his office.

Zhong Ding's smile froze, and he silently spat at Zhou Xing's retreating figure.

"Pah! Just a thug who bites, what's he so arrogant about?!"

He straightened his back and walked away, full of self-satisfaction.

For the next two days, Zhou Xing stayed at the police station, tied to the handover of affairs with the intercropping area.

He almost never went out. He only went to the inn to retrieve the large gun and brought it back, leaning it against the corner of the office wall.

Most of the time, he was either lost in thought staring at files inside the house or on the exposed cement ground in the backyard.

Standing meditation and practicing boxing.

He only practices the most fundamental aspects of his skills.

Standing in a stance for half an hour at a time, it feels as if the soles of your feet have taken root and are firmly planted in the ground.

The punches were delivered with a slow, almost agonizing pace, each strike feeling like pushing a thousand-pound millstone, producing a muffled, almost imperceptible thud from the joints.

The air seemed to groan under the pressure of his fist.

He was digesting and reflecting, gradually internalizing the insights he had gained from the struggles at the bottom of the Haihe River.

He ate whenever he was hungry. Although he seemed to be under house arrest by Renault, he never lacked food. He had stewed ginseng soup and top-quality free-range chicken, which provided constant nourishment.

When I get sleepy, I lean back on the hardwood chair, close my eyes, and my breathing immediately becomes long and even, like a dozing beast.

Outside the compound, the French Concession remained bustling.

The sounds of trams, shouts, and the creaking of phonographs blended into a peaceful cacophony.

The police officers in the courtyard have been frequently out and about these past few days, I wonder what they've been busy with.

Hans followed him, watching as this ruthless man seemed to have his claws removed, dealing with tedious handover documents every day, occasionally showing up at the newly acquired territory in the flower arrangement area, but mostly remaining silent.

Hans's doubts deepened, but he adhered to his duty as adjutant, observing without asking many questions.

The fifteenth day of the tenth lunar month is the main day for the River God Festival.

Early in the morning, four black cars were parked in front of the Central Police Station in the French Concession, their engines humming and ready to go.

Today, Renault wore a more crisp, dark blue inspector's uniform, the brass buttons gleaming. His golden vertical pupils appeared particularly cold in the morning light, and deep within those eyes lay a hint of pleasure rarely seen on him.

He was followed by six men, all elite officers from the police station. They were all dressed in black hunting uniforms, exuding a professional and menacing aura that kept strangers at bay.

"Let's go to the Tianhou Temple."

Before opening the car door, Renola took one last look at the police station building.

The car drove towards the old town. The closer we got to the Tin Hau Temple, the more decorated the streets became, and the more crowded the crowds were.

The dragon and lion dance teams were already warming up, and the rhythmic beat of gongs and drums was getting people excited.

The square in front of the Tianhou Temple was packed with people. The colorful archway stood tall, and the banners fluttered in the breeze.

The government's ceremonial guards, the congratulatory gifts from various chambers of commerce, and the viewing platform for foreign representatives in the concessions were all arranged, creating a grand festive atmosphere.

This is not merely a ritual to worship the gods, but also a display of strength and a distribution of spoils. It is an arena for all sorts of people, and also a temporary truce drawn after the power struggles of various factions.

The rare commotion in a chaotic world hides countless calculating eyes beneath.

Renault's convoy drove directly to the area designated behind and to the side of the grandstand.

As soon as he got out of the car, a Chinese secretary from the Municipal Council and an official from the local police department came up to him with a respectful attitude.

"Inspector Renault, your seat is at the front, everything is arranged."

The secretary bowed and led the way.

Renault led the way slightly and sat down in the reserved seat at the front of the viewing platform, his posture upright.

On stage, the drums resounded, and the stilt walkers were performing the Eight Immortals Crossing the Sea. Their colorful costumes fluttered, drawing cheers from the audience.

Several directors of the Public Works Department beamed with delight, while Renault, along with several directors and the consular counselor, nodded slightly, their demeanor composed.

Beneath his calm exterior lay a resolute certainty at the impending harvest. His mood was as bright and warm as the rising sun.

Meanwhile, deep within the Japanese concession, downstream of the Haihe River, at the bottom of an abandoned canal warehouse.

The head priest of Basong wore a tall bone crown and changed into a black robe embroidered with twisted runes in dark red silk thread.

Before him stood a three-tiered altar constructed of black stone, animal bones, and some kind of dark metal. On the altar were seven strangely shaped oil lamps, their flames a vibrant green, moving undulating even without wind.

On the ground, a huge, eerie array was painted with riverbed silt mixed with black dog blood and aged incense ash. The patterns resembled the viscera of a human body, still pulsating slightly.

Seven key points, each containing various objects:

A lone tree struck by lightning, fingernails of a drowned child's corpse, soil from a century-old grave, copper coins soaked in corpse oil, the tongue of a mute, the executioner's knife of a wrongfully murdered man, and a jar of an infant's belly that constantly makes scratching sounds.

Seven men, dressed in indigo short jackets and barefoot, sat cross-legged with expressionless faces.

With their eyes closed, their lips moved rapidly as they chanted strange incantations in a low, indistinct voice, which, when combined, sounded like countless insects gnawing at wood in a cellar.

The inner altar protectors of the temple were already in their positions. Further out, there were more than ten men, holding strange weapons or ritual implements, guarding both the land and water sides.

Basong closed his eyes and sensed for a moment before speaking in a hoarse voice: "The yang fire is blazing, and the human energy is boiling. The time is approaching."

His withered fingers calculated: "At noon, when the yang energy is at its peak and begins to turn into yin, the yin candles will be lit and the spider webs will vibrate. All the nodes have reported that they are in position and awaiting orders."

With everything prepared, the seven inner altar protectors and the thirty-six outer altar disciples all drank the talisman water, which dulled their pain and increased their strength by three points.

There are enough people.

The formation was simulated nine times, taking into account even the wind direction and tidal errors of the day.

Absolutely foolproof.

When the time comes, all rivers will flow in their own streams, locking the lock in place, and then—it will be time to open it.

The charity's manpower had long since dispersed into the bustling old town and flower-filled areas, like venomous snakes lurking in the grass, blocking all passageways.