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

Inside the declaration hall, as Shell forcefully entered with her power, all the chaotic public relations and appeasement efforts proceeded in an orderly manner.

Wen Xiao did not stay inside.

He is too tired.

After a whole night of intense fighting, he felt a dual emptiness, both mentally and physically, and desperately needed something from the everyday life of ordinary people to fill the void.

He walked out of the Shenbao newspaper office alone and sat down at a breakfast stall on the corner of Hankou Road. On the table lay an old Shenbao newspaper, soaked with oil stains, left by a previous customer. In the lower right corner, a small news item reported that a full-grown Bengal tiger had been stolen overnight from a circus in the foreign concessions. Wen Xiao casually crumpled the old newspaper into a ball and tossed it into the bamboo basket at his feet.

"Boss, a bowl of tofu pudding, with salty sauce."

"Okay~!"

The owner deftly served a bowl of steaming, red and white savory tofu pudding. Wen Xiao picked up a spoon, her gaze unconsciously drifting across the table opposite hers.

Then, his gaze was abruptly fixed.

A young woman was sitting there.

Right, beautiful.

Her exceptionally thick, jet-black hair was casually tied back with a plain wooden hairpin, with a few loose strands of black hair highlighting her slender, snow-white nape.

She was eating a bowl of plain, bland noodles, her head bowed. Her wrist hovered in the air, rising, falling, flicking, and sending. There were no superfluous movements.

The woman put down her chopsticks and looked up.

"Everyone on the street is saying that the newly appointed Master Wen of Gonghexiang is a very powerful figure." Her voice was cold. "They say he has the warlords, the Qingmen (a powerful and influential family), and the foreigners all completely outmaneuvered. He's a ruthless and cunning man."

"Oh?" Wen Xiao scooped up a spoonful of tofu pudding and put it in her mouth. "So what do you think?"

The woman took out a snow-white handkerchief and wiped her lips with it.

"I think he's a reckless fool who won't live long."

Wen Xiao paused slightly as she ate the tofu pudding.

The woman continued, "The Black Dragon Society of Japan, Lu Yongxiang of the Anhui clique, and Zhang Sulin of the Qingmen—these three forces are deeply entrenched in Shanghai. He used the capital of the foreign firm's tycoon to forcefully break the deadlock. Although the fire burned the enemy, it also exposed his own trump cards and weaknesses completely."

She looked at Wen Xiao and said, "This deadlock in Shanghai can't be overturned by a few guns and brute force. Do you really think you're some kind of Monkey King who can wreak havoc in Heaven by making yourself a sitting duck for all forces?"

Wen Xiao put down the rough porcelain bowl, twitched the corner of his mouth, and said, "Maybe he's just a dying madman who's just messing around."

The woman didn't reply. She stood up, took out a new handkerchief, and placed it in front of Wen Xiao.

"Wipe it off. The blood is still dripping from your neck." She turned and left.

"What's your name?" Wen Xiao called out to her.

The woman stopped and turned her head to the side.

"My name is Zhang Jing. People in the industry give me some face and call me Yama."

Wen Xiao was taken aback. He lowered his head, his shoulders shrugged, and he let out a low laugh.

"Yama?"

He looked up, his gaze fixed on the highest authority in Hongmen.

"Get your pen ready. I'll cross my name off the Book of Life and Death myself."

Zhang Jing curled her lips into a smile: "The road is too slippery, don't die halfway there. I'm watching you."

[Main Quest: You have captured the Declaration Hall. There are two more authority nodes to capture. Time remaining: 3 days]

……

On the morning of the twelfth day, a layer of cold mist still lingered over the Huangpu River.

On the barren slope behind Gonghexiang Wharf, the yellow mud was so rotten it looked like a pot of spoiled meat soup.

This is the burial ground that Hongmen bought. At the top of the slope is a relatively new grave mound, with Chen Jinbiao's name engraved on the bluestone tablet.

Below Chen Jinbiao's grave, following the contours of the land, seventeen neat and orderly deep pits were dug.

Seventeen thick, unpainted coffins lay by the pit. They were all made of old cypress wood, about four fingers thick. They were heavy; when they hit the mud, their bases sank in half an inch.

Five hundred laborers, shirtless with raw burlap tied around their waists, stood motionless on the barren slope like a frozen, withered forest.

Like the other five hundred men, Wen Xiao wore the roughest black cloth shirt, and his cloth shoes with their thousand-layer soles had long been covered in yellow mud, turning them into two heavy lumps of mud.

He walked up to the first coffin.

Inside lay the boy, only seventeen years old, who had been severed by machine gun fire. His lower body had been pieced together piece by piece from the streets by Ajiu, and yellowish-brown blood was still seeping from the seams.

Ah Jiu held a large, rough, black porcelain bowl filled with spicy liquor that stung her throat.

Wen Xiao took it and flipped her wrist.

The strong, spicy liquor was poured into the mud without even a splash.

He didn't say a word, and stumbled his way to the second coffin. Ah Jiu poured another bowl, and he spilled another bowl.

Seventeen coffins, seventeen bowls of wine.

After pouring out the last drop, Wen Xiao carried the empty bowl and walked up the slippery mud slope, stopping in front of Chen Jinbiao's tombstone.

Ah Jiu followed, carrying a wine jar, and filled the eighteenth bowl.

Wen Xiao looked at Chen Jinbiao's name on the tombstone and poured the wine from the bowl onto the moss in front of the tombstone.

"Uncle Biao".

Wen Xiao's voice echoed across the barren slope: "It's dark down there. These seventeen brothers are going to continue following you. Take good care of them."

After saying that, he smashed the rough porcelain bowl in his hand onto the stone tablet.

Wen Xiao turned around and looked at the five hundred pairs of eyes that were bloodshot.

"The rest of us are holding onto our lives tightly."

He turned and walked down the muddy slope, his voice no warmer than the river breeze:

"Don't make me fix this mess anymore."

The wind whipped the withered grass, making it bend over. Ah Jiu grabbed a handful of damp yellow paper and threw it out.

"Rise of the spirits!"

The piece of paper spun in mid-air before falling to the bottom of the pit. Before it could even come to a stop, several shovelfuls of wet, heavy yellow mud came crashing down on it.

The mud swallowed the paper money, and it also swallowed the wood.

The pit was quickly filled in. Five hundred people worked silently, patting and tamping the newly turned yellow soil with shovels.

Apart from the seventeen more mud mounds huddled together on the barren slope, from a distance, it looked no different from yesterday.

……

Two hours later, in the French Concession, at the Kung Chi Church Hospital.

The corridor reeked of iodine and Lysol. The ward for ordinary patients was overcrowded, with rusty iron beds crammed together, the groans of patients and the sighs of their families mingling together.

Meng Huai lay on the hospital bed in the far corner, his waist wrapped in thick gauze and his face pale.

Panpan, wearing a faded blue cotton dress, sat on a round wooden stool on the edge of the bed. Her eyes were red, and she was clumsily peeling an apple for Meng Huai with a small knife. The peel broke several times, and she bit her lower lip in frustration.

"Stop cutting it, I don't like that stuff." Meng Huai looked at her reddened eyes and wanted to reach out to touch her head, but the movement aggravated the incision on his waist, causing him to gasp in pain, "Hiss—"

"Don't move!" Panpan exclaimed in fright, quickly grabbing his hand, tears streaming down her face. "The doctor said it was just an inch away from piercing the spleen! Are you crazy?!"

"Bang."

The peeling wooden door to the ward was pushed open.

Wen Xiao walked in.

He had changed out of his coarse black shirt and put on a smart dark gray suit.

Wen Xiao walked to the bedside and looked at Meng Huai, who was crammed into this dilapidated place with blood still seeping from his wounds. Her brows furrowed instantly.

"Where's the doctor?" Wen Xiao turned to ask Panpan, her voice cold and hard.

"The head nurse said that beds are in short supply, and this is already the best spot..." Panpan answered timidly.

Wen Xiao turned and walked out of the ward with a cold face, and stopped a plump French head nurse who was passing by carrying a tray.

"Get him a private room. The quietest one possible," Wen Xiao said coldly.

The plump head nurse sized Wen Xiao up and down. Although the man had an intimidating aura, this was the top-tier church hospital in the French Concession.

She arrogantly raised her chin: "Detective, this is a church hospital. The VIP wards are reserved for French expatriates and members of the Chamber of Commerce. Even though you are a detective, you still have to wait in line according to the rules. It's already quite good to have a seat in the commoners' section."