Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

West Suburbs Jailyard.

Spring rain pattered against rows of abandoned car bodies, making a muffled, crackling sound.

Scrap iron, engine oil, mud, and the rusty smell of rainwater all mixed together.

Old Scar was squatting behind a beat-up jeep with no wheels, wiping the scraper in his hand bit by bit with half a burlap sack.

There was still a bit of dark blood scab in the cut.

That was left behind by Sun Changgui.

Old Scar cleaned very carefully, his rough thumb pad slowly gliding across the cold blade.

He'd spent his life in the underworld, handling several murder cases, practically half-buried in the ground, and had long been accustomed to the dead.

But this time is different.

Sun Changgui wasn't a thug who fought for territory on the street; he was a government employee in uniform with official status.

Bleeding this kind of person dry goes far beyond the bounds of double-crossing. Old

Scar knew better than anyone that he had been completely drawn into a huge vortex from which there was no bottom, and that if he was not careful, he would be crushed to pieces.

But what can you do when that important person gave so much?

That money to buy his life was enough for him to run away to the south, live in anonymity, and enjoy a life of luxury for the rest of his days.

Old Scar polished the knife until it gleamed, then slipped it into his greasy sleeve and glanced up into the depths of the rain.

Suddenly, car headlights came on in the distance.

Two beams of bright white headlights forcefully tore through the rain and slowly came to a stop at the entrance of the junkyard.

The car door opened.

Chen Bin got out of the car, his shiny pointed leather shoes stepping directly into a puddle.

He looked at the mud splattered at his feet with disgust, his brows furrowed into a tight knot, and he muttered under his breath, "Damn it, what a garbage place this is, there's not even a path to step on."

He was followed by four burly men.

One of them quickly stepped forward, holding up a black umbrella, half of himself getting soaked in the rain, his face full of fawning smiles: "Young Master Chen, be careful, the road is slippery in the rain, don't fall."

Chen Bin, already in a foul mood, roughly shoved aside the black umbrella that was about to poke his face, then slapped the man on the back of the head, yelling, "Get out of my way! You blind idiot, the umbrella ribs are practically stabbing into my eyes!"

The man shrank back after being beaten, not daring to utter a sound, and quickly retreated to the side in a meek and submissive manner.

Chen Bin disgustedly shook the mud off his trousers and impatiently shouted at the dark pile of wrecked cars, "Old Scar! Where is he?"

"Hey! I'm here!"

Old Scar jogged out of the pile of wrecked cars, his face beaming with a fawning smile, and rubbed his hands together as he greeted him: "Young Master Chen, why did you come in person in such heavy rain?"

Chen Bin pulled out a silk handkerchief scented with cologne and covered his nose: "Something's happened. You need to leave here tonight and go to another province to avoid trouble."

Old Scar's smile froze for a moment, and he cautiously probed, his back hunched: "Young Master Chen, what happened in the city...?"

Before Chen Bin could even speak, the burly man next to him, who had just been beaten, glared at Old Scar and pointed at his nose, cursing, "Why the hell are you asking so many questions! If Young Master Chen tells you to leave, then get the hell out of here. Do you think a nobody like you is qualified to pry into the affairs of high-ranking figures?"

Old Scar shrank back and quickly lowered his head after being scolded.

"Yes, yes, brother is right. I was just being a smart aleck and asking too many questions."

He begged for mercy repeatedly, lowering himself to the dust.

Chen Bin looked at him coldly and waved his hand impatiently: "Alright, no matter what, get in the car right now, we're leaving."

Old Scar stood still, rubbing his oily hands together, and forced a dry laugh: "Young Master Chen, then... then what about my money?"

Chen Bin's eye twitched, and a look of offended anger appeared on his face.

"What? Afraid I'll take your beggar's money?" Chen Bin sneered, staring at him like he was a vermin, and tilted his head. "Give it to him!"

The man holding the umbrella immediately stepped forward and forcefully slammed a heavy old canvas bag into Old Scar's arms.

Old Scar quickly grabbed the bundles of banknotes with both hands, squeezing them through the rough fabric. His Adam's apple bobbed violently, and his eyes gleamed with greedy green light.

Chen Bin looked down at him, his tone icy: "There's enough money in this bag for you to squander for the rest of your life. There's also a new identity inside. Take this money, and when you get to the south, change your name and start over."

Chen Bin stepped forward, staring intently into Old Scar's eyes: "Just keep your mouth shut and don't say a single extra word. Otherwise... you know what will happen."

Old Scar clutched the canvas bag tightly, nodding frantically like a chicken pecking at rice, his face filled with grateful loyalty: "I know! Don't worry, Young Master Chen, I'll keep those things to myself even if I die!"

"Alright, enough nonsense."

Old Scar, clutching the bag of so-called life-saving money, turned around with a beaming smile, reached out and pulled open the back door of the Santana, half his body already inside.

A large, rough hand, as big as a palm leaf fan, suddenly grabbed the back of his collar.

The man next to him dragged Old Scar out of the car like a dead dog and shoved him backward.

Old Scar stumbled and fell heavily into a muddy puddle, splashing dirty water all over his head and face.

"You unruly bastard, how dare a vagrant like you sit in the back?"

The man, looking down at the mud, spat and pointed at the front passenger seat, yelling, "Go sit in the front!"

Old Scar lay prone in the mud, clutching the canvas bag in his arms tightly, not even daring to wipe the mud off his face.

He scrambled to his feet, hunched over, and forced a smile: "Yes, yes, brother is right to teach me a lesson. I was unruly. I'll sit in the front."

The man snorted coldly, too lazy to pay him any more attention. He turned around and put on an extremely obsequious expression, respectfully opening the back door of the car: "Young Master Chen, please have a seat."

Chen Bin didn't even glance at the old scar covered in mud, and bent down to get into the spacious back seat.

Immediately afterwards, four burly men nimbly squeezed into the car, filling the back and driver's seats to the brim.

All that could be heard outside the car was the sound of the torrential rain.

Two seconds later.

The man in the driver's seat rolled down the window a crack and yelled impatiently at Old Scar, who was still getting soaked in the rain, "What the hell are you waiting to die for? Get in!"

Old Scar then clutched the soaking wet canvas bag, opened the passenger door, and carefully shrank inside.

The car door slammed shut with a loud bang, instantly shutting out the deafening sound of the rain outside.

In the cramped carriage, the smells of cheap tobacco, expensive cologne, and the stench of mud and rotten flesh mingled together.

The man in the driver's seat gave him a disgusted look, shifted gears, and slammed on the gas pedal.

The black Santana slid violently in the mud pit, and the engine emitted a muffled roar.

Old Scar huddled in the corner of the passenger seat like a quail, soaking wet, clutching the canvas bag full of banknotes tightly to his chest.

He was hunched over, his head bowed, looking utterly pathetic and submissive.

Two stark white headlights brutally tore through the rain.

The car plunged headlong into the pitch-black, rainy night.