Hong Kong film: The cop backs down, the ladies beg me to check his license.

Fatty Li's fingers tightened around the phone, and the plastic case emitted a faint, almost shattering groan.

That was a tough nail driven into Tsim Sha Tsui by the Number Gang, whose men were all ruthless thugs who would risk their lives with machetes. How could he... have gotten himself into this predicament?

Could it be that this old man conspired with outsiders to put on this show?

"Did you fucking see clearly? Is it really Wu Zhaonan? Does the scar on his face match?" Fatty Li's voice was low and icy.

On the other end of the phone, the factory manager could no longer hold back his sobs, as if all the bones in his body had been removed: "The boss... he rolled up his sleeve, and the blue mark of the gang was clearly visible to the brothers. He also said... he said it's all about getting paid to do things."

"Whose money?"

"...Yip Tin, the leader of the Mong Kok branch."

Fatty Li froze for a moment, his phone so slippery he almost dropped it. The silk nightgown on his back clung to his skin, feeling damp and cool.

Ye Tian?

It turns out to be that brat who sleeps until noon every day?

Before he could even get into position, this guy had already stabbed him in the heart.

Where did he get the guts? No, where did he get such ruthlessness?!

"Boss... could there be a mistake?" The factory manager's voice trembled as he tried to cover it up, "No matter what, Ye Tian is still a big brother in our Hung Hing branch. Colluding with outsiders to beat up our own people... this... this isn't the right thing to do..."

"Rules?!" The string of "reason" in Fatty Li's brain snapped with a "bang," and he roared into the microphone, his spittle practically splattering everywhere, "I'm the one who made the rules! If you utter another word in their defense, I'll send you to the hospital right now to lie there with those cripples!"

The factory manager fell silent instantly, with only heavy, suppressed breathing coming through the electrical current, making a whooshing sound.

Fatty Li's chest heaved violently a few times as he forcefully suppressed the rising stench of fish. He slammed his knuckles heavily on the hard wooden table, making a dull thud.

"How much will it cost to treat the injury?"

The factory manager, as if grasping at a straw, hurriedly rattled off the figures, his voice laced with obsequiousness and panic: "At least... at least three million, boss, not a penny can be saved. The injuries are too severe, all of them are to the hands and feet..."

"Three million?!" Fat Li's voice suddenly rose, becoming shrill. "Why don't you just rob the vault?! Two hundred useless people, just missing limbs, and you want three million for them, even with gold trim?!"

"It's a hospital within Hung Hing... Uncle Nan is overseeing things there, this is already the lowest discount." The factory manager gave a bitter smile, the bitterness practically radiating through the phone line. "Two hundred people, not a single one with minor injuries, ambulances are constantly arriving and departing, the streets are almost overflowing... Boss, what about today's magazine... are you still sending someone to deliver it?"

Fatty Li gritted his teeth, making a grinding sound, and his cheeks bulged out with two hard lumps of flesh.

"Give it away! Why not?!" He practically spat out those words through gritted teeth. "If we cut off our sales channels, I'll lose more than three million!"

The factory manager nodded repeatedly, not daring to say anything more.

He had barely hung up the phone, and before Fatty Li could even catch his breath, the phone rang again like a death knell. The two words "Chen Yao" on the screen, white on a black background, cold and indifferent, instantly extinguished most of the flame in his heart.

He still remembered the slap he received at the Gathering of Righteousness Hall. But now... he couldn't afford to add another enemy.

He took a breath, the air inside his lungs was cool, pressed the answer button, and tried to make his voice sound steady, even with a hint of deliberate respect.

"Brother Yao, so early? What can I do for you?"

Chen Yao's voice was clearly hoarse from not having slept enough, but beneath it was a layer of impatient anger: "I haven't even opened my eyes yet, and the hospital is already calling. Fatty Lai, are you putting on a big show in North Point? Making such a mess of things."

Fat Lai immediately seized the opportunity, his voice laced with just the right amount of grievance and indignation: "Brother Yao, it wasn't me who caused trouble! It was Yip Tin from Mong Kok who broke the rules! He got the Number Gang's people to hack my brothers in North Point to death! You have to uphold justice!"

"Uphold justice?" Chen Yao scoffed on the other end of the phone, his voice filled with weariness and disdain. "It's not normal for him to hit your people when your two gangs are fighting. Did you expect him to just stand there and let you hit him?"

Fatty Li choked, not expecting Chen Yao to have this attitude, and couldn't say anything for a moment.

Chen Yao's voice suddenly turned cold, the chill penetrating the receiver and stinging the ears: "But listen to me clearly, Fatty Lai. This hospital belongs to the triad, and Uncle Nan is a revered figure the triad has brought back. In Hung Hing, which branch of the triad doesn't respect him? Your men are lying in there, trying to renege on their debts?"

Fatty Li's heart tightened, and he quickly smiled apologetically, "No, no! I'll definitely pay the money; I'll arrange for someone to deliver it right away!"

Chen Yao's tone softened slightly, but the warning was stronger: "This is a triad hospital shared by twelve branches, not a charity shrine just for you in North Point. You've crammed in over two hundred patients at once—medicine, beds, manpower—what if something happens to the brothers from the other branches? Are you going to take responsibility?"

Fat Li's fingers gripped the phone so tightly that his knuckles turned frighteningly white, and the plastic casing creaked under the strain.

These words made his heart ache, and a surge of anger rose within him.

Did he want his brother to lie in there? Who the hell wants to suffer like that?

It's all because that bastard Ye Tian was ruthless; he crippled over two hundred of them in one go!

How many truly capable and competitive core players does North Point have? This time, half of their power has collapsed!

This is outrageous... It's like they're shitting on his neck!

Ye Tian bullied him, and now even Chen Yao is subtly undermining him!

Just you wait... they'll all just wait!

Fatty Li's face contorted, his teeth clenched until they ached, but his words were still coated with respectful sweetness: "Don't worry, Brother Yao, I'll deliver the three million right away."

"Three million?" Chen Yao suddenly raised his voice, his anger flaring. "Are you trying to fob me off like a beggar? Ten million! Not a penny less!"

Fatty Li's anger exploded instantly, and he roared back into the microphone, "Chen Yao! Don't push your luck! The hospital clearly said three million! What right do you have to raise the price?!"

"Why should I?" Chen Yao's voice was colder and harsher than his, filled with undisguised sarcasm. "Fatty Li, is your brain coated with magazine ink? Listen up! Your men were injured while working for the gang; headquarters covered 70%, and your branch covered 30%. But this time, it was your own personal grudge, Fatty Li, that you wanted the gang to clean up your mess? Dream on!"

A basin of ice water was poured over his head.

Fatty Li shivered, his pajamas, which had just dried a little, now felt cold against his skin.

Yes... that's the rule.

If it were a fight with another gang and someone got hurt, the gang would naturally cover for him. But this time... the root cause was his personal grudge against Ye Tian.

Chen Yao's voice was devoid of any warmth, like a heavy iron weight crashing down: "Ten million, three hours, to the hospital. One minute later, and I'll send all your broken-legged brothers back to the streets of North Point. If you, Fatty Lai, don't want to eat from this pot anymore, just say so."

"Beep! Beep! Beep!"

The busy signal rang out, crisp and efficient.

Fat Li held the phone, motionless for a long time, his face flushed and pale. He wiped his face hard, not daring to delay any longer, his fingers trembling as he searched for the factory manager's number, preparing to have him send someone to collect the cash.

Before he could even dial, the factory manager's name popped up on the screen again, accompanied by a buzzing vibration.

Fatty Li's heart sank suddenly, as if a stone had fallen straight into his stomach.

What happened again?

The factory manager's voice was no longer a sob; it was a wailing on the verge of collapse: "Boss! Something terrible has happened! Something...something's happened again!"

Frustrated and agitated, Fatty Li yelled into the microphone, "I'm not dead yet! Speak!"

"Our...our second batch of brothers who were sent to deliver magazines...we'd only gone two blocks when Wu Zhaonan ambushed us again! Over two hundred...we've all been...all broken! Broken arms and legs, they're being taken to the hospital!"

"Clatter!"

The phone slipped from Fatty Li's hand and slammed onto the floor, the screen instantly cracking into a spiderweb pattern. He bent down abruptly to pick it up, but his hasty movement sent a piercing, tearing pain through his groin!

"Awooo!!!!"

He screamed in agony, his whole body arching up like a scalded shrimp, his hands clutching his groin, his face turning a deep purplish-red, large beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, his legs trembling so badly he almost collapsed to his knees.