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

Central, Hong Kong Island.

A teahouse hidden deep inside an office building, with a small storefront but exquisite decor.

The mahogany tables and chairs were polished to a shine, and several landscape paintings from the Lingnan School of painting hung on the wall. In the corner stood a money tree about half a person's height, its leaves glossy green.

It was afternoon tea time, and there weren't many customers. People sat in twos and threes in the booths, chatting quietly, with the occasional clinking of cups and saucers.

The innermost private room had its door closed.

Lou Zhenhua sat opposite Chen Feng, with a pot of Tieguanyin tea and two plates of snacks in front of him, neither of which he touched.

He was wearing a well-tailored dark gray suit, his hair was neatly combed, but his complexion was not good—his eyes were sunken, his lips were dry, and his fingers were unconsciously twirling the teacup, round and round.

Chen Feng leaned back in his chair, holding a cup of tea in his hand, and slowly sipped it.

Today he was wearing a dark short-sleeved shirt, black trousers, and cloth shoes, which seemed out of place in this well-decorated private room.

But he sat there, more at ease than anyone else.

Lou Zhenhua put down his teacup and leaned forward.

"Mr. Chen, the port suffered a huge loss last time. 1.9 million worth of goods were all destroyed."

Chen Feng nodded.

"Mr. Lou, of course there are risks in doing business."

Lou Zhenhua frowned.

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

Chen Feng looked at him and put down his teacup.

"Don't worry, business can continue. Mad Bull needs more goods, so prepare another batch. This time, we'll change the trading location."

Lou Zhenhua was stunned for a moment.

"Change the location?"

Chen Feng nodded.

"Yes. Let's go somewhere else. Not the dock anymore."

Lou Zhenhua thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Okay. I'll go back and make the arrangements."

Chen Feng stood up, walked to the door, and glanced back at him.

"Mr. Lou, don't let the police know this time."

Lou Zhenhua's expression changed, and he quickly stood up.

"Don't worry, Mr. Chen! There will absolutely be no problem this time!"

Chen Feng didn't say anything more, pushed open the door, and walked out.

The sound of footsteps gradually faded away in the corridor.

Lou Zhenhua stood there, looking at the closed door, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

three days later.

Hong Kong Island, Southern District.

An abandoned warehouse, hidden behind a small hill.

From the outside, it looked no different from the surrounding dilapidated shacks. The tin roof was so rusted that its original color was no longer visible, the walls were painted with faded paint, and there were several bags of dusty cement piled up at the door.

But the inside was very clean.

The warehouse is small, a square room, about fifty or sixty square meters.

The light bulbs were newly replaced; they were 100-watt bulbs, illuminating every corner brightly.

Dozens of wooden crates were neatly stacked against the wall.

Some of the boxes were open, revealing brand-new submachine guns and rifles inside, their bodies gleaming with a dim, cold light under the lamp.

Chen Feng stood next to a wooden crate, holding a submachine gun in his hand, examining it over and over.

Today he was wearing a dark short-sleeved shirt, black trousers, and cloth shoes.

His face was expressionless, his eyes were deep and calm.

The skinny monkey stood behind him, his hands in his pockets, his waist bulging.

Iron Head leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a burly man with a face full of scars, his eyes fixed on the dirt road outside.

The man with the gap-toothed man leaned against the wall, a cigarette between his fingers, slowly smoking. The scar on his face was particularly noticeable under the light.

The sound of a car engine could be heard outside.

Tie Tou straightened up and took his hand out of his pocket.

A black sedan drove up from the dirt road, followed by a truck, and stopped at the warehouse entrance.

The car door opened, and Mad Bull jumped out.

He was still the same as before—big and burly, with a face full of fat, and his head was shaved clean, gleaming oily in the sunlight.

With a thick gold chain around his neck and a gold watch on his wrist, he looked like a nouveau riche.

Behind him were four burly men with dark skin, clearly people who had spent years traveling in Southeast Asia. They had their hands on their waists and their eyes scanning their surroundings.

Ironhead stood at the door, looking at Mad Bull.

Mad Bull looked at him and grinned.

"Brother, we meet again."

Tie Tou didn't say anything, he just stepped aside.

Mad Bull led his men inside.

Inside the warehouse, Chen Feng stood beside the pile of wooden crates, still holding the submachine gun in his hand.

Seeing Mad Bull come in, he put down his gun and turned around.

Mad Bull's gaze fell on Chen Feng, sizing him up from head to toe.

"So you're the Yankee?"

Chen Feng looked at him but didn't say anything.

Mad Bull took a step forward and stood in front of him.

He was half a head taller than Chen Feng, a whole size bigger, and stood there like a wall.

"I heard you're pretty good at fighting?"

Chen Feng looked at him, his eyes still expressionless.

"Inspect the goods."

Mad Bull paused for a moment, then laughed.

The smile was brief. He turned and walked to the wooden crate, squatted down, picked up a submachine gun, and examined it closely.

The gun body was brand new, the anti-rust oil hadn't been wiped off yet, and it gleamed under the light.

He pulled the bolt back, and it clicked crisply.

He picked up another magazine, weighed it in his hand, ejected a few bullets, examined them, and then brought it to his nose to smell them.

"Good, good, they're all good guys!"

He then opened a wooden crate next to him, inside which were neatly arranged rifles, stacked meticulously.

I opened another one: a hand grenade, round and plump, the paper seal on the safety pin still intact. Then I opened another: a bullet, golden and gleaming in the light.

Mad Bull stood up, dusted off his hands, and smiled with satisfaction.

"How is it?"

Chen Feng looked at him.

Mad Bull nodded.

"well!"

He waved behind him.

Four men stepped forward and began moving the wooden crates onto the truck outside.

Skinny Monkey stood behind Chen Feng, his hands still in his pockets, his eyes fixed on Mad Bull and his group.

Tie Tou stood at the door, arms crossed, like a door god.

The man with the gap-toothed man leaned against the wall, stubbed out his cigarette, and looked at the other people.

Mad Bull walked up to Chen Feng, took out a check from his pocket, and handed it to him.

"One million nine hundred thousand. Count them."

Chen Feng took the check, glanced at it, folded it, and put it in his pocket.

Mad Bull looked at him, his eyes gleaming.

"Hey Northbrook, if you ever get any good stuff, come find me again."

Chen Feng looked at him.

"OK."

Mad Bull grinned, turned around, and strode towards the door.

When he reached the door, he stopped and looked back at Chen Feng.

"You're a good guy, Yankee."

He pushed open the door and went out.

The footsteps faded into the distance, and the sound of a car engine starting up filled the air. The black sedan and truck drove away along the dirt road, kicking up a cloud of dust.

The warehouse fell silent.

The skinny monkey walked over.

"Brother Da Gang, are we just going to let him go like that?"

Chen Feng looked at him.

"What? Are you inviting him to stay for dinner?"

The skinny monkey didn't say anything.

Chen Feng turned around and walked towards the door.

Iron Head followed, and Gap Tooth followed too.

Three people walked out of the warehouse and stood at the door.

The sun was shining brightly outside, and it felt warm and cozy on my skin.

The distant hills were covered with weeds, which swayed gently in the wind.

Further out is the sea, a vast expanse of blue that stretches to the horizon.

Chen Feng stood there, looking at the sea.

The skinny monkey stood behind him.

"Brother Da Gang, Lou Zhenhua made a lot of money from that batch of goods."

Chen Feng did not turn around.

"He makes his money. We make ours."

The skinny monkey didn't say anything more.

Chen Feng turned around and walked down the dirt road.

Skinny Monkey, Iron Head, and Gap Tooth followed behind.

The four people walked down the hillside and reached the roadside.

A black sedan was parked there. Ah Shui was sitting in the driver's seat. When he saw them coming, he started the car.

Chen Feng opened the car door and got in.

Skinny Monkey sat in the passenger seat, while Iron Head and Gap Tooth sat in the back.

The car started and drove onto the highway.

Chen Feng leaned back in his seat, watching the street scene rushing past the window.

Sunlight streamed in through the car window, casting a bright patch of light on his face.

He closed his eyes.

One million nine hundred thousand.

That's enough for Xiaoyu to finish elementary school, middle school, and then go to university.

She has enough time to grow up properly.

Hong Kong Island, Tsim Sha Tsui.

In the hotel suite, the curtains were half-drawn, and the afternoon sun streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting bright patches of light on the carpet.

The surface of Victoria Harbour shimmered, and cargo ships slowly passed by in the distance, their horns drifting in through the glass, muffled and indistinct.

Xie Wanying stood by the window, wearing a light purple cheongsam, her hair tied up, and light makeup on her face.

She held a cup of tea in her hand, but didn't drink it. She looked out the window at the sea, her eyes expressionless.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Gacha walked in.

"Sister Ying, we got news from Mad Bull. They got the goods. 1.9 million, delivered personally by the Northman."

Xie Wanying's eyes twitched slightly, just for a moment.

She turned around and sat down on the sofa.

"Did the Yankees go in person?"

Ga almost nodded.

"Yes. The Northman went in person. Mad Bull said that guy is no ordinary person."

Xie Wanying leaned back on the sofa, looking at the ceiling.

Mad Bull received the goods, worth 1.9 million, delivered personally by the Northman.

The last shipment exploded, and now it's back again.

This Northerner's reach was farther than she had imagined, and his audacity was also greater than she had anticipated.

She picked up her teacup and took a sip. The tea was cold, astringent, and bitter. She swallowed it slowly.

"Does Xiong-ge know yet?"

Ga almost nodded.

"Understood. Brother Xiong said to have Mad Bull transport the goods away and not let them stay in Hong Kong Island any longer."

Xie Wanying nodded.

"Understood. You may leave."

Gacha turned around and walked out quickly.

The door closed behind me.

Xie Wanying was the only one left in the room.

She leaned back on the sofa, looking at the ceiling.

You Northman, take your time and grow bigger. Once you're big enough, someone will come and take you down.