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

Golden Princess Nightclub, third-floor office.

The afternoon sun shone through the gaps in the blinds, casting dappled shadows throughout the room.

The faint sounds of the bustling city outside the window could be heard, but after being separated by glass, only a muffled buzzing could be heard.

The air was thick with the smells of cigars and tea, a suffocating mixture that made one's chest tighten.

Skinny Monkey took a step forward and lowered his voice: "Big Steel Bro, Snake King Chan has been very active lately. Rumor has it he has cheap drugs. The whole Temple Street is talking about it, saying his stuff is half the price of what's on the market, thank goodness."

Chen Feng paused for a moment while flipping through the account book, just for a moment.

He continued flipping through the pages without looking up. "Half price?"

Skinny Monkey nodded: "Yes. Half price. And it's not just once or twice, it's a long-term supply. Several small demolition companies in Temple Street get their goods from him, business is booming."

Chen Feng closed the ledger, put it aside, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the ceiling.

Snake King Can—that old bastard who makes a living by dealing in human snakes.

Like a reed in the wind, it bends whichever way the wind blows.

In the past few months, Lei Luo has taken over all the dock and smuggling businesses. Snake King Can's human trafficking business has been cut off, so he has started to deal in heroin.

Where did his goods come from?

Chen Feng sat up straight, looked at the skinny monkey, and said in a calm voice as if he were chatting casually: "This Snake King Can is actually not honest."

Skinny Monkey's eyes lit up, and he took another step forward: "Big Steel, should we give him a little talking-to?"

Chen Feng stood up, walked to the window, turned his back to the skinny monkey, and looked at the gray sky outside the window.

The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, casting a thin layer of gold on the glass.

He stared for a moment, then turned to the skinny monkey, his voice calm: "Go. Teach him a lesson, and also find out his source of goods. Snake King Can doesn't have that much power; I suspect he has someone backing him."

The skinny monkey nodded: "Understood."

Chen Feng looked at Tie Tou: "Tie Tou, you go with Skinny Monkey."

Tie Tou straightened up from the wall, grinned, and the smile looked a bit silly on his fleshy face, but his eyes were full of murderous intent: "Don't worry, Brother Da Gang."

Chen Feng looked at the gap-toothed man: "Gap-toothed man, you keep an eye on Snake King Can's establishments. Make sure he doesn't sell heroin in his brothels and gambling dens anymore."

The man with the missing tooth stubbed out his cigarette, stood up from his chair, threw the cigarette butt into the ashtray, and twisted it: "Got it."

Chen Feng finally looked at Mudfish: "Mudfish, wander around Temple Street and listen to what those small-time demolition companies have to say. Write down who's selling Snake King Can's stuff."

The loach poked its head out of the shadows, blinked its bright, mouse-like eyes twice, nodded, and then retreated back into the shadows.

Chen Feng walked back to his desk, sat down again, and picked up the ledger to continue flipping through it.

His face was expressionless, as if he hadn't said anything at all.

The skinny monkey turned around, pushed open the door, and walked out.

Iron Head followed behind, and Gap Tooth followed behind.

The three people filed out, their footsteps echoing in the corridor, growing fainter and fainter until they disappeared completely.

West of Temple Street, there's Snake King Chan's chicken stall.

This chicken stall was located in an alley on the west side of Temple Street. The storefront was small, and two heavily made-up women stood at the entrance, wearing revealing dresses and thick makeup, laughing hysterically under the neon lights. But today, the two women's smiles froze on their faces, and their legs trembled as they looked at the group of people in front of them.

Skinny Monkey stood at the entrance of the chicken stall, wearing a dark short-sleeved shirt, black trousers, and cloth shoes.

His hands were tucked into his pockets, and his waist was bulging.

Behind him stood a dozen or so people, all dressed in dark clothes, holding knives that gleamed coldly under the neon lights.

Iron Head stood next to him, a big, burly man with a face full of scars, arms crossed over his chest, like a wall.

The man with the gap-toothed man stood behind him, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, slowly smoking, the scar on his face appearing and disappearing in the smoke.

The music inside the chicken stall stopped. The men who were drinking looked up, saw the group of people at the door, and their faces turned pale.

Some put down their wine glasses, some pushed the women away, and some quietly slipped out the back door.

The guards had their hands on the knives at their waists, but no one dared to draw them.

The person in charge was called Sister Qing. She was in her forties, short and plump, and wearing a flashy cheongsam.

He ran out and saw Skinny Monkey; his face turned pale, as white as paper. He forced a smile, but it was more like a grimace: "Brother Monkey, what brings you here? You didn't even tell me beforehand so I could make arrangements..."

Skinny Monkey didn't look at her; his gaze went past her shoulder and landed on the bar.

Several packets of heroin were placed on the bar counter, gleaming dimly under the neon lights.

There was a small scale, a piece of tin foil, and a lighter nearby. Someone was using drugs here.

Skinny Monkey walked over, picked up the packet of heroin, weighed it in his hand, and then put it down.

He turned to look at Sister Qing, his voice not loud, but every word was like a nail: "From today onwards, you are no longer allowed to sell heroin."

Sister Qing's face turned from white to pale, her lips trembled, and her voice shook: "Brother Monkey, this...this is Brother Can's stuff..."

The skinny monkey stared at her. His eyes were expressionless, but Qingjie felt a chill run down her spine, as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head.

She swallowed hard. "I...I'll tell Brother Can..."

The skinny monkey didn't say anything more, turned around and left.

Iron Head followed behind, Toothless followed behind, and the dozen or so people followed at the very back. The sound of footsteps echoed in the alley, growing fainter and fainter.

Standing at the entrance of the chicken stall, Sister Qing watched the group's figures disappear into the alley. Her legs went weak, and she had to lean against the doorframe to steady herself. A lookout next to her approached, his voice hoarse: "Sister Qing, what do we do?"

Sister Qing didn't say anything, turned around and walked back into the chicken stall, picked up the phone on the table and dialed a number.

The call connected. Sister Qing's voice trembled: "Brother Can, the people from Princess Jin are here—they said we can't sell heroin anymore—they confiscated those packets on the bar—they didn't beat anyone, but they took the goods—yes, just a few packets—okay, okay, I'll wait for you—"

She hung up the phone, leaned against the wall, and gasped for breath.

North of Temple Street is Snake King Chan's gambling den.

This gambling den is located on the second floor of an old building, with a narrow staircase that can only allow one person to pass at a time.

Two guards stood at the entrance, wearing black short jackets, their hands in their pockets, and knives at their waists.

Skinny Monkey stood at the entrance of the gambling den, leading a dozen or so men.

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the stairs, thumping and thumping, making the whole building tremble slightly.

The two guards turned pale, took their hands out of their pockets and placed them on the hilts of their knives, but didn't dare to pull them out.

Skinny Monkey ignored them, pushed open the door, and went inside.

The gambling den was filled with smoke, and several gambling tables were occupied by people.

The dice rolled in the bowl, the chips piled up on the table, some people won money and grinned, while others lost money and cursed.

Everyone stopped when they saw the skinny monkey come in.

Skinny Monkey stood in the center of the room, his gaze sweeping over the gambling tables.

On the innermost gambling table, there were several packets of heroin, neatly stacked, and next to them was a thick stack of cash.

He walked over, picked up the packets of heroin, and put them in his pocket.

Turning to the gamblers, his voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear: "From today onwards, no more heroin is allowed here. If I see anyone selling heroin again—"

He didn't finish speaking, but everyone understood.

The skinny monkey is gone.

The gamblers looked at each other, some secretly taking the goods out of their pockets and stuffing them into the gaps between chairs, into the soles of their shoes, or into their underwear.