We agreed on the twelve zodiac animals, but you've transformed into the Monkey King?

The torrential winter rain finally stopped, and throughout the streets and alleys of Shanghai, countless newsboys waved copies of the *Shen Bao* newspaper, still reeking of pungent ink, shouting at the top of their lungs:

"Breaking News! Breaking News! Japanese-owned money lenders have lost all credibility and are depleted of cash, declaring bankruptcy!"

"The Chinese Merchants' Money Exchange Association intervened to quell the bank run! The Xue family's comprador took over the non-performing assets at a 90% discount, turning the tide!"

"The head of Jardine Matheson & Co. has regained control, and the entire Shiliupu commercial district has changed hands effective immediately!"

The bold, black characters on the paper casually announced the death sentence of a massive conglomerate. Yet, at the heart of this storm, a deathly silence reigned.

Dafeng Money Shop, an underground vault.

Wen Xiao strolled leisurely into the inner room, stepping over the broken glass and worthless Japanese banknotes scattered on the floor. Behind him, Gong Hexiang and his brothers were repeatedly bringing back the money that had just been transported from there that morning.

Matsuda knelt on the ground, his eyes vacant.

Wen Xiao hummed a little tune as she walked to the wide-open stainless steel safe and put the yellowed land deeds back into her sandalwood box.

Then, in front of Matsuda, he struck a match.

"Sizzle—"

The match struck the sandpaper. Wen Xiao lowered his eyes and brought the flame closer to the usurious loan contract.

The paper, bearing the bloody handprint, quickly turned black and curled up. With a slight flick of his wrist, he tossed the half-burnt contract lightly into the white porcelain cup filled with sake in front of Matsuda.

A ball of eerie blue flame, tinged with golden light, rose with a whoosh from the rim of the cup. The expensive kikumasamune, mixed with burning paper ash, released an intoxicatingly sweet aroma.

Flames danced on the rim of the cup, their scorching light casting shadows on Matsuda's withered face.

"Consider this three million as advance money to guide you on your path."

Wen Xiao looked at him through the flickering flame of the wine.

"The road to the underworld is dark, Mr. Matsuda, may you rest in peace."

Matsuda's eyes finally moved, and he suddenly let out a mournful, desperate laugh, like an owl.

"Hahaha—ten years! The Empire's ten-year plan in Shanghai has been reduced to ashes! You don't even need to lift a finger; tonight the military will force me to commit seppuku! My wife and daughters will be condemned to the lowest of the low in Japan, to be trampled upon for eternity!!"

Matsuda raised his bloodshot eyes and stared intently at Wen Xiao:

"But you won't survive! You have no idea what kind of being you've offended! The Black Dragon Society's leader is furious, and high-ranking 'Shadow Group' assassins have been dispatched. That's a power that mortals like you can't possibly contend with! They'll skin you alive like a lamb, and chop everyone around you into mincemeat! I'll be watching you from hell..."

Wen Xiao didn't even lift his eyelids. He turned around and gestured with his chin to Chen Jinbiao behind him: "Cut out his tongue and throw him into the Huangpu River. Take the brothers to take over the remaining four Class A warehouses of the Japanese."

"Yes, Fifth Master!" Chen Jinbiao grinned maliciously and dragged the struggling Matsuda away like a dead dog.

The crisp sound of high heels tapping on the stone slabs echoed from the steps.

Shelly came down. She wore a deep crimson silk dress with dark black sable drapes that were as black as ink. In this basement filled with cold gold bricks, she looked like a rose that had drunk its fill of blood.

"Have you read the newspaper?" Shelly walked up to Wen Xiao, raising her snow-white chin. Her usually cold and beautiful face now carried the composure of a victor and a slightly flushed, tipsy look.

"I saw it. Miss Xue won a great victory." Wen Xiao leaned against the cold steel safe and lit a cigarette.

Shelly suddenly stepped forward, reached out and snatched the cigarette from his lips, throwing it on the ground. The hem of her silk dress clung directly to the hem of his suit trousers.

The immense adrenaline from the recent destruction of a vast financial empire was fermenting in this enclosed underground space.

Shelly tiptoed, wrapped her arms around Wen Xiao's neck, and breathed warmly into his ear: "That old zombie Cavendish personally returned the Grand Master's seal to my desk. I completely wiped out that three million dollar debt at a mere tenth of its original price."

She lowered her head, her fingertips deftly unbuttoning Wen Xiao's shirt, then slowly tracing her way down his cheetah-like, firm abs.

"I made ten million silver dollars in this round. Fifth Master Wen, how do you plan to charge me interest?"

Wen Xiao wrapped his arm around her slender waist, feeling the trembling of her hot, delicate body. He leaned down and whispered in her ear:

"Pay off the interest for now. I need to go back and save my life."

He released his grip and strode out of the vault.

[Main Quest: Successfully captured the Shiliupu Merchant District node. Reward: 50 Sumeru Points.]

[Remaining time: 9 days 11 hours]

Current account balance: 51 Sumeru Points.

……

In a cramped basement at the border between the French Concession and the Chinese-controlled area.

There were no windows, only a dim kerosene lamp lit.

The air was filled with the sour smell of cheap ink and moldy wood.

The crank made a creaking sound.

Five or six students wearing indigo-coated long gowns surrounded the mimeograph machine. In the corner, a girl with short, ear-length hair and thin-rimmed glasses squatted in front of the type tray, her head down, her fingers stained black by the lead type.

"The collapse of Japanese banks, I heard it was orchestrated by Master Wen of Gonghexiang with his men." A male student who was operating a machine pushed up his glasses and lowered his voice, "He even dared to chop up a Japanese ronin in the street, this guy is insane."

"It's just a case of the wicked eating the wicked; in the end, they're just dogs under the foreigners' control," another female classmate chimed in while folding paper.

The short-haired girl didn't say anything. She was inserting a lead weight into the printing plate slot.

"Bang!" The thin wooden door was kicked open, and the hinge broke.

Several Chinese military police officers, carrying rifles with bayonets, squeezed in. The leading officer, with a long, diagonal scar on his neck, stepped forward, spat a thick wad of phlegm on the ground, and slammed his boots into the newly printed leaflets.

"Damn it, you're barely out of your teens, hiding here trying to rebel?" The officer used the barrel of his gun to pry open a male student's chin, revealing a lewd grin with his yellow teeth: "Put wire through the collarbone of the men, drag them back and break their legs! These little wench girls stay behind."

His gaze lingered on the short-haired girl and several female students.

"Tonight, I'll 'search' each of them to see if they're hiding any rebellious leaflets in their skirt pockets. Then I'll have the brothers take turns checking them."

The students backed away, crowding together. The officer reached out and grabbed the short-haired girl by the collar.

"Sir." A voice came from the doorway.

A young police officer in a dark blue uniform leaned against the doorframe, a half-smoked cigarette in his hand.

"This alleyway has been incorporated into the French Concession." The young policeman threw his cigarette butt at the ground and stubbed it out with the tip of his shoe. "These printing houses are under my jurisdiction. You've overstepped your bounds."

The officer stared at the police rank insignia on the uniform, his hand hovering in mid-air, saying nothing. After a long while, he spat on the ground, cursed, waved his hand, and led his men away.

The basement was so quiet that only heavy breathing could be heard.

The young police officer walked down two steps. He looked down at the short-haired girl clutching a tray in the corner.

The girl looked up at him through her thin-rimmed glasses, though there was fear in her eyes.

The young policeman's Adam's apple bobbed. He suddenly found the blood-stained uniform he was wearing smelled awful. He put his blood-stained hands behind his back and rubbed them vigorously on his trouser leg.

"Go further away from the footprints." He looked away, glancing at the green moss in the corner, his voice muffled. "Next time, no one will care about you."

After saying that, he turned and left. His steps were a little unsteady.