Hong Kong film: Refusing to go undercover, the policeman's path to becoming the richest man.

Chapter 74 Factional Infighting within the Police Force: He Chucheng's Local Hope

He dug his hands into his hair, pulling so hard that his scalp ached, and his hair became messy and dry like straw.

He also shoulders the heavy responsibility of raising funds for the Gold Club!

If we are truly targeted by Xinliansheng and our funding chain is cut off, those bigwigs behind us will turn their backs on us without mercy. Not to mention our careers, we won't even be able to save our lives!

After rushing to the hospital to treat his injuries, he had just returned to the police station when he heard a bombshell: Ho Ka-kui, on behalf of the Sun Luen Shing Group, had donated HK$30 million in cash to the West Kowloon Headquarters!

He also publicly stated that he cares about the security situation in the region!

It is said that even Inspector General Ho Chu personally received him!

Richard's head exploded with a buzzing sound! Luo Zhiming! Are you fucking serious?

My heart was pounding, and I was sweating profusely.

If his mistake leads to a funding shortfall, those high-ranking men will truly make him disappear without a trace! This isn't an exaggeration; it's a stark reality!

He almost choked when he heard that He Chu had already agreed to take action.

Luo Zhiming is ruthless, but He Chu is the monster!

He climbed to the position of Chief Inspector in his early twenties and became the Deputy Commander of the West Kowloon Headquarters? A threshold that a normal person might not be able to reach even after thirty years of hard work, he crossed it with ease!

Richard understood the system; he knew how difficult it was to get promoted.

For an ordinary police officer, if they accumulate years of service, make no mistakes, and meet the required educational standards, reaching the rank of inspector after ten years is already the highest possible achievement.

Just like in the TV series "Detective Investigation Files," Lei Xiaofeng scolds Zhang Dayong: "Who from our generation is still working as a 'Sanchai' (a low-level official)?"

But moving up from inspector to higher levels? Every step is fraught with peril!

Ability, background, connections, and mentorship are all indispensable!

But what about He Chu?

From the Chief Secretary for Administration and the Security Bureau to the top official, Wong Bing Yiu, everyone is supporting him!

The position of Chief Inspector is living proof of this!

Richard was just a senior superintendent; he didn't even have the right to put on airs in front of He Chu.

With just one word from him, the entire police force can turn against you.

And he?

No one paid any attention to what I said.

What devastated him the most was that Luo Zhiming, who was a gangster just six months ago, could now brazenly donate money to the police.

What about Hung Hing? What about the other triads?

Who will be able to distinguish right from wrong in the future?

My mind is in complete turmoil.

My thoughts are a jumbled mess, and everything before me is bleak.

After a long silence, he gritted his teeth, a resolute glint in his eyes: "I want to see the knight."

"Only he can save me."

Actually, he didn't want to go.

It's not just embarrassing, it's more like admitting guilt and bowing down.

There's nothing we can do about it.

Wrong is wrong.

Hide? Those big shots will make sure you never see the light of day again!

Who isn't afraid?

He was terrified!

Twenty minutes later, he stood in front of a secluded villa halfway up the back of Victoria Peak.

The night breeze was cool, the shadows of the trees swayed, and the distant mountains were as dark as ink. Ancient trees surrounded the mansion, as if it were isolated from the world.

Sir Lee was sitting in the backyard enjoying tea.

A small red clay stove, a porcelain cup gently opened, and a wisp of steam rises gently.

He looked up, picked up his teacup, and said calmly, "Richard, you must have brought good news this time, right?"

Richard's expression shifted several times before he finally bowed his head, his voice hoarse: "I'm sorry, Sir—I messed things up."

Sir Lee paused, gently placing the teacup on the saucer with a crisp, light sound.

sit.

Two words, neither too loud nor too soft, yet they were like a command, firmly pressed into the air.

Richard didn't dare to accept the seat. His back was ramrod straight, and with a gulp, he poured out everything that had happened since the selection of New Union.

Not a single word was concealed, not a single sentence was false.

He knew—Sir Li appeared gentle and refined, but his eyes were most dangerous when he smiled.

Even if it means your death, I'll still smile and hand you the knife.

As the light of day gradually dimmed, twilight quietly crept across the windowpane.

Sir Li rose calmly and poured him another cup of black tea, his movements as composed as if he were hosting an afternoon tea party.

"Your throat's burning, aren't it? Have some water to soothe it."

Richard took the cup, his fingertips trembling slightly, a bitter smile forced across his face: "Sir—I was wrong."

Please punish him/her.

Sir Li suddenly laughed, a low laugh that carried no sarcasm but rather a desolate clarity.

"Life is mostly unsatisfactory; do you really believe that everything will go as you wish?"

He blew a breath, and the steam rippled across the tea noodles.

"Just like our scheme in the stock market back then—it was also an accident."

"What's truly disheartening is that before we could even try to salvage the situation, those people had already left."

When the sound faded, it was like a leaf falling into a deep pool.

He sighed softly, "They're all talented people."

"If they are invincible, why would they need to join forces with us?"

"Who would have thought that it would just disappear so quietly."

Richard immediately bowed his head in agreement: "Sir, you are a man of great virtue and honor!"

Sir Li shook his head, a faint smile appearing on his lips: "No, I've just lived a little longer."

The wisdom gained through the years is not compassion.

Richard gritted his teeth and finally bowed to ask for advice: "Sir, what should I do now?" Sir Lee shrugged, his tone as casual as if he were talking about the weather: "Don't you owe Luo Zhiming money? Pay it back as soon as possible."

There was a moment of silence in the room.

He slowly sipped his tea, his gaze piercing through the rising steam as he looked at the other person: "You're wondering—why I made you do this, aren't you?"

Richard's throat tightened, he swallowed, and nodded obediently: "Sir, I don't understand."

"Of course I don't understand," Sir Lee laughed. "You're in a different position."

He abruptly changed the subject, asking, "What do you think of the Golden Club?"

Richard blurted out, "In Hong Kong, there's almost nothing the Golden Club can't accomplish if they want to."

Sir Li shook his head slightly, his smile turning cold: "Wrong."

"Even the Hong Kong government can't do whatever it wants, so how strong can the Golden Club be?"

He paused, his voice deepening, "It's not just the current Hong Kong government that's incompetent; the Hong Kong government ten or twenty years from now will also be unable to do whatever it wants."

"No single person in power can truly control everything, no matter which side of the world is in control."

He raised his hand and tapped his chest.

"Because there is something here—the human heart."

"The world is bustling, all for profit; the world is in turmoil, all for gain."

"Everyone has a different perspective and wants different things."

Once interests clash, they cannot be reconciled.

"Those in power? They're nothing more than tightrope walkers among countless forces."

Richard remained silent for a moment, then finally bowed his head and sincerely said, "I have learned a lot."

Sir Lee gently stroked the armrest beside the seat, which resembled an old tree stump, as if caressing a piece of bygone time.

"One must have self-awareness."

"We are human beings, not gods."

You can't always have your way.

"Don't try to do something that even Jesus couldn't do."

He raised his head slightly, his gaze deep: "The Golden Club is indeed full of talent—like me, like you."

Richard's face flushed, and a surge of pride welled up in his heart.

Sir Lee actually ranked him alongside himself?

But the next second, that warmth was doused with cold water.

"Even if we join forces, we are almost omnipotent—we will still be constrained."

"To be honest, everyone in the club has different thoughts."

Unification? As difficult as ascending to heaven.

"But why does it still hold true?"

He stood up, his posture upright, and his tone suddenly turned serious: "Because I've grasped a common point—we all love money."

"Everyone wants silver paper; it's not shameful."

"I propose a bill in the Legislative Council, and others make plans in advance; they make money and then turn around to support my proposal."

"We bring in one person per year."

"Five years from now, we will be able to control the voter base and influence any decision."

"Regardless of whether Hong Kong Island is returned to China or remains unchanged in the future;"

"Whether those sitting on the stage are from our hometown or former subordinates of the UK, our interests will always be as stable as Mount Tai."

He turned and stared at Richard, his eyes sharp as knives: "This is the true original intention of the Golden Club."

Richard's eyes lit up, and he promptly added, "That's what you call—'Let the storm rage, I remain unmoved!'"

Sir Lee threw his head back and laughed loudly, the sound of which made the wind chimes by the window tinkle softly.

"Good! Richard, you've finally figured it out."

"However—" his smile faded, "I'm getting old, and it's hard to say whether I'll live past the next ten years."

"The future ultimately belongs to you young people."

Richard hurriedly said, "Sir, we cannot do without your leadership!"

Sir Lee smiled faintly, as if he could see through all the anxiety and attachment.

What are the benefits of living a long life? It means that once you've weathered the storms, you're no longer afraid of them.

After a pause, he slowly spoke: "Come on, tell me—what do you want to hear now?"

Sir Lee's smile was gentle, but his tone was heavy, like a stone pressing down on him: "Your position is far more important than you think—this is the starting point for all the funds."

"It's fine if you didn't notice it before, but now that Xinliansheng has run into trouble, you should have sensed that something was wrong, right?"

'

Richard gave a wry smile, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing his knee, his voice lowered: "Yes, I understand—this burden is not light."

To be honest, he never really thought he was that important before.

He was just a senior police superintendent in the Ministry of Public Security. In the eyes of those big shots who wore suits and ties and attended charity galas all the time, he couldn't even get close to them.

The people they were chatting and laughing with were at least acquaintances of the Legislative Council; who would even glance at someone running on the street?

The case note?

But when things got chaotic at Xinliansheng, he suddenly realized which side he was on.

He is the lifeblood of the Golden Club.

If the water supply is cut off, even the largest temple cannot afford to offer incense.

“Logically speaking, if you waver, we’ll all be doomed.” Sir Lee slowly picked up his teacup, his eyes sharp as knives despite the rising steam. “But sometimes, a broken brick isn’t necessarily a bad thing.” Richard frowned. “Sir, forgive my poor eyesight, but I really can’t see what the ‘good’ is.”

Every step I take now feels like stepping into mud, sinking deeper and deeper.

Sir Li chuckled and tapped his knuckles lightly on the table: "The Golden Club only accepts elites, the top figures in all walks of life."

And your judgment—is excellent.

"There are hundreds of community organizations on Hong Kong Island, but you chose New Union Group. It is now worth tens of billions, its transformation is going smoothly, and its momentum is strong."

Richard's lips twitched: "It's precisely because it's so intense that I have a headache."

My status and Luo Zhiming's are no longer on the same level.

"Status?" Sir Lee shook his head. "He's a rising star in the business world, and you're a member of the Gold Club."

There's no need to belittle yourself.

"We'll have to wait and see about Xinliansheng."

Richard's pupils contracted: "You mean—you want to recruit them into the club?"

Sir Lee smiled without saying a word, only slowly blowing on his tea: "The Golden Club wants heroes from all walks of life."

What Xinliansheng lacked after its cleanup and reorganization was precisely a powerful backer and endorsement.

"Wouldn't it be a match made in heaven if the two sides could join forces?"

Richard hesitated for a moment, then tentatively asked, "Should I then use the Ministry of Political Affairs to pressure the Loyal Youth Society and establish credibility for New Union?"

"No, no, no." Sir Lee waved his hand, his tone suddenly turning cold. "What right do you have to interfere?"

"If I were you, I wouldn't do anything."

"Fairness? No need to pretend."

You just need to watch.

"Whether it's Xinliansheng or Zhongqingshe, in my eyes they're nothing more than two dogs fighting over a bone."

"Only the winner has the right to sit in our hall."

"The loser won't even get a foot in the door."

He took a sip of tea, his movements as elegant as if he were attending a banquet: "Luo Zhiming is indeed capable, but whether he can steer the multi-billion dollar empire remains to be seen."

"And speaking of Chung Ching Society—those four crabs might not necessarily be unable to escape the trap."

"The only thing you should do now is to stay out of it and let them fight it out."

Have you ever seen dog fighting?

"That was a bloodbath, a fight to the death."

"The ones that survive are the beasts we want."

Richard's eyes lit up, like a match suddenly struck in the darkness.

"Sir, thank you for your guidance."

Sir Li smiled faintly: "You know the rules."

"This was a botched job; 30% will be deducted from the next profit share."

Richard bowed deeply, his tone solemn: "Thank you for your guidance, Sir. I will complete the mission. Please allow me to take my leave."

"Go ahead." Sir Lee looked towards the door, his smile deepening. "I hope you'll bring good news next time I see you."

"Ah Chu, come and sit down, I just brewed some tea." Old Huang always greeted He Chu with a smile and invited her to sit down.

Older generations of Hong Kong Island residents love tea, while younger generations pursue coffee.

Huang Lao and Han Sen are of the same generation, but deep down they still have the old-fashioned style of holding a gaiwan and listening to Cantonese opera, and they are particularly particular about Kung Fu tea.

But this habit is not just a matter of age; it is also a symbol of status.

People with more money tend to move further west.

Suits, red wine, and casual conversation on the golf course—it seems that the closer you are to the UK, the more respectable you become.

After all, Hong Kong Island was still under British rule, and the government instilled "civilized order" day after day, making the newly rich group of people always feel that they should have some "class".

The police force has never been a monolithic entity.

In immigrant cities, factions abound, with the Shandong and Guangdong factions each holding their own territory.

In the early years, the Hong Kong government made a special trip to Dengzhou to recruit police officers. Back then, Chief Detective Lau Fuk-neng rose to power with the support of the two forces in Dengzhou and Yuezhou.

Mr. Wong is from the Cantonese gang.

However, as time goes by, one's ancestral home has long since become just words in an archive.

Nowadays, everyone is a Hong Kong Islander, but some undercurrents never truly sink to the bottom.

"Boss, something's on your mind." He Chu narrowed his eyes, his tone not harsh, but like a needle, it easily pierced through the calm and collected facade on Boss Huang's face.

He had mastered psychology to the core; he could uncover a person's deepest secrets from a fleeting glance or slightly disordered breathing.

Mr. Huang grinned, his smile a little forced: "Is it that obvious?"

Indeed, he's always been a fearless guy. Not long ago, he even used a police gun as a back scratcher, interrogating a suspect while scratching his back. If that got out, it would make the front page of a gossip magazine.

But now, I feel like I'm weighed down by a weight, so heavy that I can't even lift my eyebrows.

"Achu, you have to go up." He suddenly spoke, his voice so low it sounded like it was being squeezed out from the back of his throat.

"Am I not fast enough?" He Chu raised an eyebrow, almost bursting out laughing. "A chief inspector in his early twenties, standing on the street without his uniform—who would believe I'm a cop? People would believe I'm some rich kid!"

Huang Lao didn't reply, but slowly shook his head, a layer of gray mist rising in his eyes: "Not enough—still not enough."

He Chu frowned: "Boss, this doesn't sound like something you would say."

When did you learn to sigh?

The air seemed to freeze for a moment after those words were spoken.

After a long silence, Huang Laozong finally uttered a few words: "Living under someone else's roof is not a good life."

He paused, his gaze suddenly sharpening: "Do you remember Commissioner Luo?"

He Chu's pupils contracted: "That case—was it decided?"

A year ago, the image of him handcuffing Commissioner Law at the ICAC building was still being dug up by some media outlets and used as a nostalgic feature.

But this case was like a stone stuck in a quagmire. It dragged on for a year, and everyone knows the slow, tedious tricks of the Hong Kong courts.

This time, however, Huang Lao only said five words: "Twelve months imprisonment and deportation."

"What?" He Chu looked up abruptly, his voice cracking.

"That's the verdict? That instant noodle hair guy really dared to do that?"

"Why wouldn't I dare?" Boss Huang suddenly erupted, slamming his hand on the table, making the teacup jump. "What about fairness, impartiality, and transparency? When it comes to official misconduct by foreigners, it's just a light slap and they're out the door!"

"What if it were a Chinese person? They'd be stuck in jail by now!"

"Now look what's happened, twelve months? Ha, the person was already sent back to the UK yesterday! The Department of Justice didn't even dare to protest; the final ruling is that there's no appeal!"

The two sat facing each other in silence, with only the ticking of the clock in the room, as if counting down something.

"Who gave us the right to live on this land?" Old Huang always smiled bitterly, his eyes full of sarcasm. "I knew those judges were biased, but I didn't expect them to be so blatantly protective, not even bothering to put on a fig leaf!"

He Chu shook his head: "They'll still pretend."

"He was sentenced to at least twelve months."

"Pretending?" Old Huang sneered, his temper flaring up again. "That's like taking off your pants to fart! They could easily rob your whole family, but they just casually toss you a penny and expect you to thank them?"

"It's the 1990s already, and they still shit on our heads!"

He Chu leaned back in his chair, slowly picked up his teacup, and blew on it: "They're foreigners, after all, they're born with a privilege buff."

of. "

Mr. Huang was taken aback, then turned to look at him: "Aren't you angry?"

"I'm furious." He Chu smiled, a smile as cold as light shining from beneath an icy lake, "but I knew it all along."

"It's not surprising that foreigners are biased."

"I just didn't expect that these Brits would not have learned their lesson at all after Mrs. Thatcher took that fall in the North seven years ago."

They still dare to be so arrogant; they've lost all sense of shame.

Huang stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly laughed: "So, you're planning to make a move?"

He Chu tilted his head: "How did you know I would make a move?"

"I personally transferred you here." Old Huang grinned, his eyes gleaming with the cunning of an old fox. "You're a tough guy, you're never one to take a beating without fighting back."

He Chu laughed three times, drank the tea in his cup in one gulp, and when he put the cup down, the smile had completely disappeared.

"How sensational was Commissioner Luo's case back then?" he said slowly. "In broad daylight, police officers stormed the ICAC to arrest the Commissioner. The media went crazy, everyone was talking about it. It was practically the biggest drama of the year."

"But it's only been a year, and everything's calm and peaceful, not even a ripple remains," Huang Lao always sighed.

"The hype's died down?" He Chu scoffed. "Boss, why are you spouting motivational platitudes today?"

"People on Hong Kong Island love watching plays, how could they not love such a grand show? It's just that the Hong Kong government intervened and suppressed it, blocking all the loudspeakers."

"They're trying to cover it up?"

A slow smile crept across his lips, a hint of playful amusement in his expression.

"Let's see if this lid can hold it down."

Mr. Huang's eyes lit up: "What are you going to do?"

He Chu chuckled, his eyes sharp as tempered knives: "Would you believe me if I said this case was wrongly judged?"

"Did you get the instant noodles wrong?" Mr. Huang was taken aback.

"Bang!" He Chu slammed his hand on the table and stood up, a cold glint flashing in his eyes: "The UK is the ancestor of all the troublemakers in Europe."

Give them a piece of land, and instead of building anything, they'll plant landmines—just waiting to blow you up one day.

"They love to pull these kinds of stunts, specifically picking out outrageous topics to boost their presence and gain favor."

"They're about to run away anyway, so they won't care if I give them a huge amount of power. At worst, they'll just leave the mess behind and walk away."

"It's not like they're cleaning up the mess themselves."

"To put it bluntly, it's like a son selling his father's land without a second thought."

"Those British bastards are as cunning as foxes."

"Before leaving, they frantically sowed the seeds of chaos, just waiting for Hong Kong to descend into utter chaos in the future, so that they could smear us internationally."

Huang Lao always looked at him with a look of utter disbelief.

He Chu, however, seemed oblivious, replying calmly, "Hong Kong Island is such a small place. Even if it were bombed, could it shake the very foundation of the country?"

"That's what makes the UK so disgusting."

"They'll jump out and point their fingers at us and say, 'Look at us! When we were in charge, Hong Kong Island was a vibrant, bustling metropolis, full of revelry every night. You took over and in just a few years, you've turned it into a complete mess.'"

"Isn't the Western concept of 'democracy' still more appealing?"

Huang Lao felt nauseous listening to this: "Isn't this just blatant lying?"

He Chu shrugged and smiled: "When have those troublemakers in Europe ever been reasonable?"

Mr. Huang frowned deeply: "So what do we do?"

He Chu suddenly laughed: "Boss, what's the rush? We're still under their control, why are you worrying about anything?"

His smile vanished, his eyes turning icy: "But even if they have a good plan, they'll have to see if I agree!"

"If you hadn't pointed this out today, I would never have imagined that there was such a hidden problem."

"Those foreigners are incredibly cunning."

Huang Lao always picked up his teacup, gulped it down, and looked gloomy.

He Chu waved his hand: "Don't panic, boss, relax."

"What I can think of, do you think those big shots back home wouldn't think of?"

"At most, I'll think three steps ahead for every one step I take."

"Those people in the imperial court are all cunning old foxes who see ten steps ahead for every one step they take."

"It won't cause any major problems."

Mr. Huang always smiled wryly: "Just listening to you say these things sends chills down my spine."

"If they actually succeed, it will be a catastrophe."

He Chu gently shook his head: "In my opinion, it may not be a bad thing."

Mr. Huang suddenly looked up: "Good news?!"

"Are you out of your mind? You call this a good thing?"

He Chu's voice was low and deep: "No destruction, no construction." He paused, his gaze sharp as a knife: "Look at those colonies in world history; they always had a morbid obsession with their mother countries."

"They were clearly invaders, yet they were treated like saviors."

"Give us a few examples: Siam, Okamoto, South Korea—which of them doesn't fawn over the United States?"

"When Indians see the UK, their bones go weak."

"There are so many countries in Africa that they practically call France their father."

What about Hong Kong Island?

"Do you have an inescapable attachment to the UK?"

Mr. Huang remained silent.

After a long silence, he gritted his teeth and squeezed out a single word: "Yes."

He Chu replied calmly, "Not only is it there, but it's very deep."

"The system is based on the British model, and everything about clothing, food, housing, and transportation has a Western flair."

"The rules on the streets, the procedures in the courtroom, even the way the police salute are all copied from the UK."

"Do you think these people have no feelings for the UK?"

"In the last World Cup, Maradona knocked England out of the tournament, and how many young people in Hong Kong cried as if their fathers had died?"

The more Huang Lao listened, the more aggrieved he became: "Are you deliberately trying to stab me in the heart?"

He Chu shrugged: "The truth is hard to hear, but it's more important to listen."

Suddenly, Mr. Huang grinned and said, "He Chu, I'm actually relieved that you can see things so clearly."

He Chu was taken aback: "What do you mean by that?"

Instead of answering, Mr. Wong asked, "You know there are factions within the police force, right?"

He Chu nodded: "The same rice feeds a hundred different people. People with different stances will naturally be divided into different groups."

Old Huang gave him an approving look: "For someone your age to see this clearly is quite remarkable."

"The police force has three factions: the first faction is the foreigners."

"Admiring the strong is a human instinct. If a country has ruled for eighty years and its roots are deep, it's normal for some people to be loyal to it."

"The core tenet of this faction is just one thing: the interests of foreigners are above all else."

He Chu curled his lip, too lazy to reply.

Huang Lao saw all this and felt even more gratified: "This faction has the most people and the most powerful positions. There are real foreigners in it, as well as traitors who have forgotten their roots."

He Chu nodded slightly: "It has been operating for over eighty years, and its roots are deeply entrenched; it cannot be touched."

Mr. Huang continued, "The second faction is the neutral faction."

"Regardless of rain or thunder, all I care about is keeping my job and completing the mission."

"They always spout off about 'civil servant neutrality,' pretending to be more aloof than anyone else."

He Chu scoffed, "Negativity is bullshit."

"They bend whichever way the wind blows, and even label themselves as 'professionals.'"

The two exchanged a glance, and everything was understood without a word.

"The so-called neutrality is only valid from the perspective of the British."

"Civil servants are born with political birthmarks."

"You want someone who openly opposes the UK to try taking their civil service exam? No way!"

"Before he even got into the system, the telecommunications bureau could arrange a 'suicide' for him!"

Mr. Huang sighed, his tone heavy: "Three men can make a tiger, and many mouths can melt metal."

They've been brainwashed by British propaganda; they're easily swayed.

"Even the Supreme Court justices, who claim to uphold the separation of powers, all have their own stances. What's the point of talking about neutrality?" He Chu shrugged.

He shrugged and scoffed, "Unless someone's brain is completely empty, they're just an obedient tool, only knowing how to bury their head in work and never looking up to see where they're going."

Mr. Huang continued, "The last remaining faction consists of people like you and me—the hometown faction!"

"The core of this faction can be summed up in one sentence: We are Chinese!"

"Hong Kong Island must be ruled by the Chinese!"

"We become police officers not to be lackeys of those foreigners, but to stand up for the seven million people of Hong Kong Island!"

55

He Chu nodded slightly, his eyes firm: "That's right."

"This land has never belonged to the UK," Mr. Huang slammed his fist on the table. "Even though they've ruled for over eighty years, it's only a lease! It's written in black and white, don't even think about going back on your word!"

"I don't see as far as you do, nor do I understand as clearly as you do." He paused, his voice lowering slightly, "but I truly felt the pressure exerted by the UK."

"Apart from the centrists who are pretending to be confused, everyone is laying the groundwork for a comeback."

"We are no exception."

He Chu's eyes flashed: "So you chose me?"

Wong Bing-yiu, Commissioner of West Kowloon Headquarters, a veteran of the Police Force's Constitutional Committee, and a leading figure of the localist faction.

The meaning of these words couldn't be clearer—he was paving the way for the future, and He Chu was the successor he had chosen.

Mr. Huang shook his head and corrected, "It's not me choosing you, it's us choosing you!"

"To tell you the truth, life isn't easy for the local faction."

"Among the three factions, in terms of strength, we are only slightly stronger than the middle faction."

"But we'll be returning in a few years, so we have to promote our own people."

"We must not allow the corrupt faction to take advantage of the chaos and seize power!"

He Chu raised an eyebrow slightly: "But why me?"

Huang Lao stared at him, emphasizing each word: "Because you're an oddball!"

He Chu rolled her eyes: "What alien? I'm not an alien."

Huang Lao always waved his hand and said, "You're such a freak."

"With your brains, what can't you do? Business? Billions?"

Even personal wealth may not be the limit.

He Chu smiled and did not deny it.

"The police force doesn't lack skilled detectives, but it lacks a strategic mind like yours," Wong said gravely. "In Hong Kong, truly capable people have long since gone into business. Who wants to wear this uniform and engage in a battle of wits?"

"People like you, who have both the means and the principles, are extremely rare."

"Now that you've run into them, why aren't you holding on tight?"

"Otherwise, do you think that the privilege of being able to walk around Hong Kong with impunity and check whoever you want is granted casually? We've been giving you the green light all along!"

He Chu's pupils dilated in shock, and she finally understood: "So I was already on the backup list?"

Mr. Huang shook his head: "Wrong."

"From today onwards, you are not a substitute, you are a striker."

"You must be the flag bearer for our local faction, and stand up clearly and openly."

"Go for it, don't be afraid of making things difficult."

"We old guys will risk our lives to cheer you on."

He Chu's expression suddenly turned solemn, and his voice was low but powerful: "Boss, actually I've wanted to raise the flag for a long time."

Upon hearing this, Mr. Wong threw his head back and laughed loudly: "Hahaha! If you could do what Lei Luo did back then, I'd gladly be your lackey, serving you hand and foot without hesitation!"

He Chu smiled, his eyes narrowing: "Boss, I've got your words in mind."

"If that day ever comes, don't pretend you don't know and deny it."

"To be honest, back when I was in police academy, I wanted to be the new generation's Lui Lok—not to imitate, but to surpass."

Old Huang gave a thumbs-up, his eyes gleaming: "A police officer who doesn't want to be number one isn't a good police officer!"

"Young people should have this kind of spirit."

"Sometimes I wonder how old you really are. You're incredibly bold, yet you're also incredibly meticulous, like a slippery snake."

He Chu chuckled: "I can even handcuff an ICAC commissioner right out of the ICAC building, and you still say I'm watertight? That's called being ruthless to the extreme!"

"Boss, your assessment is too conservative."

Huang Lao always chuckled: "What's there to be afraid of? If the sky falls, there are tall people to hold it up. Besides, we're the ones standing in the eye of the storm."

The two exchanged a glance, needing no further words; their smiles spoke volumes.

Huang Lao leaned back in his chair, his expression completely relaxed: "So, what do you want from me this time?"

He Chu lightly tapped his forehead with his fingertips, as if trying to disperse the chaotic thoughts in his mind.

"I'm a bit confused by what happened with Commissioner Luo."

He raised his eyes, his tone turning serious: "But I'm here today to report on Sir Lee's case."

Mr. Huang's eyelids twitched, and he sat up straight: "This is no ordinary case."

His voice was low, yet carried immense weight: "This is a top-tier case! It's on a completely different level than Commissioner Luo's case!"

Commissioner Luo? He's just a figurehead with a public office title; he's actually following secret orders from the Governor's Office.

And what about the Independent Commission Against Corruption (ICAC)? It sounds impressive, but it's actually made up of specially recruited staff from the community. They have limited authority and can't cause any major trouble.

But Sir Lee is different.

He is a super tycoon with five lines intertwined: politics, business, police, anti-corruption, and organized crime. A single move in his life can affect the whole situation.

The Golden Club is a name familiar to everyone in Hong Kong's powerful circles.

Behind every name lies a bloody and turbulent history of the martial arts world.

Mr. Huang looked solemn, and even his breathing became heavier.

The extraordinary investigative privilege granted to He Chu was a tailor-made imperial edict specifically for this group.

He Chu's eyes sharpened, and he cut straight to the point: "The Gold Club suffered a setback in the stock market last time, but it quickly regrouped after only a few days of respite."

"Richard from the political department has identified three new targets."

He paused, then pronounced the names word by word: "Johnny Wang's arms dealing group, the East Star Society, and—the Chung Ching Society."

With a loud "boom," Mr. Huang's brows furrowed deeply, as if a fire had exploded in his chest.

"That bastard, is he trying to turn Hong Kong Island into a drug den again?!"

He slammed his hand on the table, making the teacup jump.

"Tung Sing? A long-established drug trafficking gang, deeply entrenched for decades, even the Kowloon King couldn't do anything about them back then!"

"The Chung Ching Society? They've only been around for a few years, but they're ruthless and audacious, already carving out a bloody path for themselves in Sai Wan!"

"As for Johnny Wang," he gritted his teeth, "that arms-dealing lunatic! Always carrying an automatic rifle."

Sweeping the streets, I'm not afraid of death, nor am I afraid of the heavens!

boom!

Another heavy blow, and the desktop almost cracked.

"This is utterly lawless! Ah Chu, you must uproot these cancerous growths as soon as possible!"

This sounds grand, but it's actually almost absurd.

Dongxing existed longer than the Ni family's ancestral hall.

Countless detectives have fallen in battle, yet none of them have been able to shake its resolve.

Now, whenever Huang Lao opens his mouth, he expects He Chu to "solve" it?

Although Chung Ching Society is new, how did it manage to gain a foothold in just a few months? Was it its fists, its brains, or its powerful connections?

Hong Kong Island is such a small place; the land is like a rice bowl. If you take a bigger bite, others will go hungry.

The rise of new forces will inevitably be met with encirclement and suppression.

Not only did Chung Ching Society survive, but it also grew stronger with each battle. How could ordinary methods be used to deal with such ruthless characters?

Not to mention Johnny Wang.

The arms trade is a life-or-death matter; people open fire at the slightest provocation and have no regard for rules.

Even the police wouldn't dare to ambush someone like that.

Any one of these three forces could give the entire organization a headache for half a year.

Mr. Huang, on the other hand, put all the pressure on He Chu's shoulders and demanded that the matter be "resolved immediately."

Anyone else would have turned on him and called him a fool.

But He Chu is not human—he is a demon.