Courtyard House: First, kill the hypocrites, leave none alive.

He Xingsheng General Hall.

It was late at night, but the old-fashioned tenement building was brightly lit tonight.

The third-floor meeting room was filled with people sitting around the long table.

The leaders of Yau Ma Tei's East District, the head of the West District, the dock bosses, the nightclub managers, the big bosses of the gambling dens—and all the influential people in the Heung Shing Society have come tonight.

Some people were sitting, some were standing, and some were leaning against the wall.

The room was filled with smoke, a mixture of the smells of smoke, sweat, and alcohol that made it hard to open one's eyes.

But no one spoke.

It was eerily quiet.

Uncle Quan sat at the head of the table.

He was wearing a dark Zhongshan suit, his hair was neatly combed, but his expression was already betraying his true feelings.

His hands were trembling.

He looked at the people in front of him, examining each one individually.

Uncle Wen sat to his left, his thin body sunk into the chair, holding a cup of tea in his hand, sipping it slowly.

A cold light gleamed in his old eyes, as if he were looking at a dead man.

Snake King Can sat to his right, half-lying down, half-leaning, his eyes half-closed, like a snake basking in the sun.

But anyone could tell from the smile on his lips that it was a malicious smile.

Below them are the heads of the various districts and the leaders of the various outposts.

Some had their heads down, some were looking at him, and some were exchanging glances.

Not a single person was on his side.

Uncle Quan's heart sank to the bottom.

He took a deep breath and tried to keep his voice steady.

"What are you doing?" he began.

Uncle Wen put down his teacup.

The teacup clattered on the table, making a crisp sound.

In the quiet room, the sound was particularly jarring.

"Ah Quan,"

Uncle Wen spoke slowly, but every word was like a nail: "Don't pretend."

Uncle Quan's expression changed.

Uncle Wen continued, "Let me tell you, today we and Xingsheng are going to re-elect the leader."

As soon as he finished speaking, the room erupted in uproar.

"right!"

"Elect again!"

"Uncle Wen is right!"

Several hall masters echoed this sentiment.

Sweat began to bead on Uncle Quan's forehead.

He looked at Uncle Wen, at Snake King Can, and at those who echoed him.

"You...you're rebelling!"

His voice even changed tone.

Snake King Can smiled.

The smile was brief, like a snake flicking its tongue.

"rebel?"

He said, "Ah Quan, you're wrong. The person in charge of Hexingsheng is supposed to be elected by everyone. When Master He died, everyone agreed to your appointment. Now that everyone disagrees, what's wrong with a re-election?"

Uncle Quan's face turned bright red.

"Snake King Can! You—"

"What about me?"

Snake King Can interrupted him, his voice as cold as ice.

"Ah Quan, tell me yourself, what have you done in the past six months since you took office?"

He stood up and walked over to Uncle Quan.

"When Crane died, you took over the human trafficking business. I didn't say a word. You killed Amin to be a scapegoat. I didn't say anything either. Tyrannosaurus died, and instead of avenging him, you gave the territory to that Northbourne."

He stared at Uncle Quan, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"Ah Quan, you're a fucking piece of trash!"

Uncle Quan's face turned from red to white.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out.

Uncle Wen stood up.

He walked up to Uncle Quan and stood side by side with Snake King Can.

"Ah Quan,"

He said, "In the six months you've been in power, how many people have died in Hesheng?"

Uncle Quan didn't say anything.

Uncle Wen spoke for him.

"Crane is dead. Tyrannosaurus is dead. And Mad Dog, and Shrimp, and Tyrannosaurus's fifteen brothers."

He paused.

"In total, there are almost thirty people."

Uncle Quan's lips were trembling.

Uncle Wen continued, "These people were all from Hexing. They're dead, and what did you do? Did you avenge Master He? Did you avenge Tyrannosaurus?"

He stared at Uncle Quan.

"You don't. You just hide behind Yan Tong, who the hell do you think you are?"

Uncle Quan took a step back.

He bumped into a chair, which fell over with a dull thud.

He held onto the table to steady himself.

"Uncle Wen,"

He spoke, his voice hoarse, "You...you can't say that. I didn't kill those people..."

"You didn't kill him?"

Snake King Can smiled.

"Ah Quan, who killed the Tyrannosaurus Rex? Do you think nobody knows?"

He looked at the people inside the room.

"Brothers! What do you think? Should this kind of person in charge be replaced?"

"It should be replaced!"

"Change him!"

"Aren't you going to change it and keep it for the New Year?"

Shouts erupted from inside the house.

Uncle Quan's face turned deathly pale.

He looked at those people, those who had once fawned over him but now wished they could devour him.

He knew he couldn't get past this hurdle.

"you……"

He spoke, his voice trembling violently.

"What do you want?"

Uncle Wen looked at him.

"How is it?"

He said, "We need to re-elect a leader. Someone who can keep the brothers alive."

Uncle Quan's heart skipped a beat.

"Who should we choose?"

Uncle Wen smiled.

The smile was brief, fleeting in the dim light.

"Of course, the most capable should take the position."

He paused.

"For example, me."

Uncle Quan was stunned.

He looked at Uncle Wen, at this thin old man.

"you?"

Uncle Wen nodded.

Yes. Me.

He said, "I've been with Hesheng for thirty-seven years. When Master He was around, I was a veteran. What kind of scene haven't I seen? What kind of person haven't I fought? As the person in charge, I'm a million times better than a piece of trash like you."

Uncle Quan's face contorted.

"Uncle Wen! You—you old geezer!"

He rushed forward, intending to hit Uncle Wen.

But as soon as he took a step, he was stopped by several people.

Snake King Can stood to the side, watching coldly.

"Ah Quan,"

He said, "Stop struggling. You're not leaving this door today."

Uncle Quan was pinned to the table, unable to move.

His face was pressed against the cold tabletop, his eyes wide open.

"Snake King Chan! You—you were involved too!"

Snake King Can smiled.

"Of course I have a share."

He walked over, squatted down, and looked at Uncle Quan.

"Ah Quan, do you think I help you because I respect you?"

He shook his head.

"I helped you because you were useful. Now that you're useless, you should get lost."

Uncle Quan's tears flowed down his cheeks.

It's not because of pain.

It's because of despair.

He's finished.

It's completely over.

Uncle Wen walked over and looked down at him.

"Ah Quan,"

He said, "Don't worry. I won't kill you."

Uncle Quan raised his head.

A complex light flickered in those old eyes.

"If I kill you, it will be difficult to explain to Yan Tong."

He paused.

"So, go. Leave Kowloon. Never come back."

Uncle Quan was stunned.

"You...you're letting me go?"

Uncle Wen nodded.

"Yes. I'll let you go."

He waved.

Those men released Uncle Quan.

Uncle Quan climbed up from the table, but he could barely stand.

He looked at Uncle Wen, at Snake King Can, and at the people in the room.

Their faces showed mockery, indifference, and disgust.

No one sympathized with him.

He slowly turned around.

Step by step, I walked towards the door.

Behind me, Uncle Wen's voice rang out.

"From today onwards, Uncle Wen will be the one in charge of Hexingsheng. Who agrees? Who disagrees?"

The room was quiet.

Then someone spoke up.

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

"Agreed."

The sounds are increasing.

Uncle Quan pushed open the door.

go out.

The door closed behind me.

He stood in the stairwell, trembling all over.

He recalled what had happened six months ago.

Master He is dead, and he sits in this position, full of vigor and ambition.

Now, he has nothing left.

He held onto the wall and walked down step by step.

Step out of this building.

Step into the night in Yau Ma Tei.

The neon lights were still flashing.

People come and go on the street.

Nobody was watching him.

Nobody knew him.

He was like a lost soul.

-

Golden Princess Ballroom.

Third-floor office.

Uncle Quan pushed open the door and went inside.

The room was dark, with only neon lights shining in from outside the window.

He walked to the desk and sat down.

Pick up the cigar and light it.

I took a sip.

Slowly expel it.

Smoke rose in the dim light.

He looked around the office.

Looking at that sofa, that coffee table, and that landscape painting.

Everything here belongs to him.

But tomorrow, it won't be the same.

He closed his eyes.

Ah Qiang pushed the door open and came in.

"Uncle Quan," he said, "outside—"

Uncle Quan raised his hand to interrupt him.

"Qiang," he said, "pack your things. Let's go."

Ah Qiang was stunned.

"Walk?"

Uncle Quan nodded.

"Leave Kowloon. Go...go to the New Territories. Go to Yuen Long. Wherever you like."

Ah Qiang's expression changed.

"Uncle Quan, what's wrong?"

Uncle Quan looked at him.

"Uncle Wen has rebelled," he said. "He Xingsheng is gone. We've lost."

Ah Qiang opened his mouth as if to say something, but didn't say anything.

Uncle Quan stood up.

He walked to the window and looked at the flashing neon lights outside.

"Ah Qiang," he said, "how many years have you been with me?"

Ah-Qiang said, "Five years."

Uncle Quan nodded.

Five years. Thank you for your hard work.

He turned around.

"Go pack your things. Take your valuables. We'll leave before dawn."

Ah Qiang remained silent for a few seconds.

Then he nodded.

"Yes, Uncle Quan."

He turned and walked out.

Uncle Quan stood alone by the window.

He looked at the neon lights, at the perpetually bustling street.

He remembered the faces of those people from earlier.

Uncle Wen's pride.

Snake King Can's mockery.

The indifference of those hall masters.

He remembered what that person had said.

"I will come to take over the territory in three days."

Tomorrow will be the third day.

But it's no longer needed.

Uncle Wen will handle it.

He doesn't have to worry about anything anymore.

Uncle Quan smiled.

The smile was brief, carrying an indescribable meaning—perhaps self-mockery, perhaps helplessness, or perhaps simply amusement.

He picked up his cigar and took one last puff.

Turn it off.

Turn around.

I walked towards the door.

Push open the door.

go out.

They disappeared into the night.