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

Lei Luo sat on the sofa at the head of the table, dressed in dark gray casual clothes, his hair neatly combed, a cigar between his fingers, slowly smoking.

Smoke rose in front of him, gilded with a dark gold by the setting sun.

He leaned back on the sofa, his gaze slowly sweeping across the faces of the people in front of him, with a condescending weariness, like a lion king surveying his territory, everything under control, but without feeling anything to be happy about.

The sofas on both sides of the long table were full of people, and there were also several chairs next to it, which were also full.

Snake King Can sat at the farthest point to Lei Luo's right, half-lying down, half-leaning, with his eyes half-closed, like a snake basking in the sun.

But today, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't warm up. His face was pale, his eyes were sunken, his lips were dry, and he looked like he had just been pulled out of the water, radiating coldness from his very bones.

He was wearing a dark silk shirt with the collar open, revealing his lean chest.

A cup of coffee sat before him, untouched, the thin layer of cream already solidified. His right hand rested on his knee, his fingers slightly curled, occasionally twitching as if stung by something.

Wen Ge, a tall, thin man, sat opposite Snake King Can, a cigarette between his fingers, unlit, his eyes fixed on the newspaper on the coffee table.

His fingers tapped lightly on his knees, one tap after another, the rhythm quickening, like some kind of countdown.

The fat, big-eared Qiang was huddled in the single sofa next to him, wearing a flashy shirt and a thick gold chain around his neck. He looked like a lump of dough stuffed into the sofa.

He didn't touch his coffee, only held the cup, circling his fingers around the rim, his gaze occasionally glancing at Snake King Can, like a hyena lurking in the shadows, watching its prey.

The leaders of the other clubs sat further away, some smoking, some holding coffee, and some leaning back on the sofa with their eyes closed, resting.

Everyone was quiet, occasionally glancing at each other before looking away, like a group of strangers sitting in the same waiting room, each lost in their own thoughts, none of them willing to speak first.

Snake King Can has recently been selling heroin at half the price of others, and he's also grabbing territory everywhere.

His goods spread like a plague in Temple Street, and the small-time demolition companies swarmed over like sharks smelling blood.

Others' goods are not selling, and they are also encroaching on other people's territory.

Tonight's gathering is about demanding an explanation.

The door opened.

Chen Feng walked in.

Today I'm wearing a dark-colored short-sleeved shirt, black trousers, and cloth shoes.

His face was expressionless, his eyes deep and still, like a bottomless pool of water. He seemed completely out of place in the elegantly decorated living room, yet he walked in without the slightest discomfort.

When Lei Luo saw Chen Feng, a smile appeared on his face. The smile was brief; he stood up and gestured for Chen Feng to sit: "Northerner, have a seat."

Chen Feng sat down on the sofa to Lei Luo's left.

That location was closest to Lei Luo.

The living room fell silent for a moment.

The silence was like a stone thrown into a deep pool, the ripples spreading from the surface to everyone—Snake King Can's fingers stopped trembling, Brother Qiang's fingers stopped turning, Brother Wen's fingers stopped tapping, and everyone's eyes fell on Chen Feng.

Snake King Can's face changed, turning from green to white, then from white to gray, like a piece of paper that had been crumpled and then unfolded again, never to be smoothed out again.

He glanced at Chen Feng, then quickly looked away, lowering his head to stare at his own cup of coffee, as if trying to see through the solidified milk skin.

Chen Feng took a packet of heroin out of his pocket and threw it on the coffee table.

"Brother Luo, Snake King Can has broken the rules."

Leilo's eyes twitched slightly—just for a moment.

He placed the cigar on the edge of the ashtray, leaned forward slightly, looked at the packet of heroin on the coffee table, then at Snake King Can, and the smile on his lips slowly disappeared.

Snake King Can's face turned even paler.

The gang leaders looked at the packet of heroin, their eyes flashing with various emotions—the fat-headed Qiang Ge had a gloating smile on his lips, the tall and thin Wen Ge frowned, and the others either shook their heads, sighed, or had no expression on their faces, just watching and waiting.

Lei Luo leaned back on the sofa and tapped his fingers lightly on his knees twice.

His gaze shifted from the packet of white powder on the coffee table to Snake King Can, and he spoke in a low voice, "Snake King Can, what's going on?"

Sweat began to bead on Snake King Can's forehead. Beads of sweat trickled down his temples, stinging his eyes, but he dared not wipe them away. His lips trembled, and a voice squeezed out from his throat, hoarse as if he had a mouthful of sand: "Brother Luo, I...I didn't..."

Chen Feng looked at him, his eyes still expressionless.

The voice wasn't loud, but everyone in the quiet living room could hear it: "Three days ago, Snake King Can sold a hundred packs on the west side of Temple Street. The day before yesterday, he sold two hundred packs on the north side of Temple Street. Yesterday, he sold three hundred packs on the south side of Temple Street. The price was only half the market price. The goods came from Southeast Asia, supplied by a foreigner named Hank."

The living room fell silent again. This time, it was as quiet as a tomb.

Snake King Can's face turned from white to gray, then from gray to blue, like a snake whose vital spot had been grabbed. He huddled on the sofa, trembling all over. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but his throat felt like it was being choked by something, and he could only make hoarse, breathy sounds.

Lei Luo leaned back on the sofa, his fingers tapping lightly on his knees—a subconscious gesture when he was impatient. He knew Snake King Chan was selling heroin. Which triad in Hong Kong didn't sell heroin these days?

Everyone else is selling; it would be foolish for him not to.

The northerner also sells in Yau Ma Tei; his noodle stall is located on the east side of Temple Street, and business is booming.

Snake King Can's goods are half the price, and he's grabbing territory everywhere—that's breaking the rules.

Lei Luo's fingers paused for a moment. He picked up the now-cold coffee from the coffee table, took a sip, put it down, leaned back on the sofa, shifted his gaze from Snake King Can to Chen Feng, and said in a calm voice as if chatting casually, "Northerner, what do you suggest we do?"

Chen Feng leaned back on the sofa, tapping his fingers lightly on his knee. His gaze shifted from the packet of heroin on the coffee table to Lei Luo's face. After a moment of silence, he spoke, his voice calm: "Snake King Can broke the rules. He's no longer allowed to sell."

Lei Luo nodded. He looked at Snake King Can, his voice not loud, but every word was like a nail: "Snake King Can, did you hear me? You're not allowed to sell anymore."

Snake King Can's tears streamed down his face. Not from sadness, but from fear—a fear that seeped from the very marrow of his bones, a fear he couldn't suppress. He lowered his head, his shoulders trembling, his whole body shaking like a mouse whose tail had been stepped on.

The fat, big-eared Qiang was the first to stand up, his voice booming like thunder, making the windows rattle: "Brother Luo, we can't just let this go! In just these past few days, all my goods have become unsellable! Several old customers have run away and gone to him! Who's going to compensate for the losses?"

The tall, thin Wen Ge also stood up, his voice shrill like a woman's: "Yeah, Brother Luo, me too. Those old clients have been following me for years, never missing a beat. Now they've all run away. And his territory, he robbed me of a whole street north of Temple Street."

Another gang leader with a scar on his face stood up as well: "Brother Luo, I've suffered a significant loss too. Business was already tough, and now he's slashed prices in half. How are we supposed to survive? Starve?"

The group started talking all at once, their voices growing louder and louder, like a pot of porridge bubbling and bubbling.

Lei Luo raised his hand, and the living room fell silent. His gaze swept across the faces of those people, finally landing on Snake King Can. He spoke, his voice not loud: "Snake King Can, you will compensate them for their losses."

Snake King Can raised his head, his ashen face streaked with tears, his eyes red like a rabbit's. He looked at Lei Luo, his lips trembling, "Brother Luo, I...I have no money..."

The fat, big-eared Qiang sneered, his voice laced with malice: "No money? You've sold so much stuff, you think you're broke?"

The tall, thin Wen Ge chimed in, "Exactly. You're half the price and selling in bulk, how could you not make money?"