Chapter 43: A Respectable Underworld

At 7:00 AM, Chu Hengkong had just finished his night shift and was eating plain noodles for breakfast. Across the table, Ji Huaisu was frowning deeply as she stared at a newspaper. It was the "Metropolitan Daily," a publication heavily favored by high society. The headline was an article attacking individual fruit vendors in the Bize District, accompanied by a large photo of a rotting water-fox fruit—a fruit resembling a small, blue watermelon.

"Utter nonsense, absolute gibberish," Ji Huaisu tossed the newspaper onto the table. "Anyone who has visited the market even once knows that water-fox fruit is far tougher than people. It won't spoil for a week in the open air."

Chu Hengkong used a tentacle to pull the newspaper over and scanned it for a few moments.

"The report claims this is a method used by the underworld demon cults to corrupt the Midtown, and it hints that the City Lord's Mansion disregards food safety issues merely to stimulate the economy," he pointed out. "The logic is sound and entirely reasonable."

Xie An was making rice noodle rolls behind the counter and popped his head through the small window upon hearing this. "Heh heh heh, that's pure baloney! I personally helped revise the food safety regulations with the Food and Drug Department last week. Relics shipped from Bize to Midtown have to go through three security checkpoints; it's way safer than the mess Adali used to run, alright!"

"The kind of people who read this crap don't care about facts," Ji Huaisu said with utter disgust. "Just another distraction tactic by Maivia."

"Classic mafia behavior," Chu Hengkong said.

Ji Huaisu looked completely bewildered. "How is that mafia? They run casinos and brothels, you know."

"I am referring to the universal traits of the mafia," Chu Hengkong produced a stack of files and tossed them over. Ji Huaisu flipped through them carefully, discovering an investigative report on the Maivia family. The intelligence included Maivia, his three children, and an operative whose identity remained unknown—the "hitman." This former assassin's efficiency was always astonishing; he had only learned the suspected identity of the mastermind yesterday, yet today he had already compiled a detailed document through old archives and field investigations.

"Maivia's wife passed away twenty years ago, and he never remarried, leaving him with no biological children. Those so-called 'descendants' are core members of the family he adopted. That is the first trait of a mafia family: they idolize loyalty bound in blood," Chu Hengkong explained. "The second trait is their deep connection to surface society. The media industry, the food industry, industry... they provide 'protection' to all kinds of sectors to expand their sphere of influence. Consequently, their tentacles reach everywhere, much like this newspaper. Fortunately, there is no such thing as politicians in Huilong City; otherwise, we would likely have to deal with high-ranking officials with mafia backgrounds."

"Thank you, Master Mafia. This is the only time you talk this much..." Ji Huaisu lost interest.

Chu Hengkong finished his noodles, put down his chopsticks, "Yet their primary business is the flesh trade and gambling. That is not the way of a proper mafia."

Ji Huaisu nearly choked. "Hey! Don't you think it's very strange to put the words 'mafia' and 'proper' together?"

Chu Hengkong frowned at her, looking deeply offended. "Our proper mafia's main businesses are real estate, manufacturing, and filmmaking—all transparent, public, and legal ventures. Furthermore, we were responsible for maintaining local public order... Only heartless thugs and scumbags get involved in the flesh trade."

"My god, so upright! If I didn't know you never tell lies, I'd want to question you over and over again," Ji Huaisu waved half a fried dough stick. "Does that mean back in the day you were mostly working as a bodyguard for the boss?"

"Some of the time," Chu Hengkong said. "The rest of the time, I was responsible for eliminating those heartless bastards."

Ji Huaisu put down her fried dough stick and sat up straight. Even she felt a bit embarrassed to joke around at this moment, because the man across the table spoke so indifferently, yet his words carried a stubborn pride, resembling a masked hero whose sole mission was to protect the metropolis... It was just a pity that the hero's left arm was currently a slippery tentacle, and his right hand was still clutching a clump of noodles. He didn't look particularly chivalrous; instead, he radiated the nostalgic melancholy of a middle-aged man reminiscing about the past.

"No matter how cool you were back then, nowadays you're just Tentacle Man," Ji Huaisu said mournfully.

Chu Hengkong felt utterly perplexed; he had no idea what kind of wild fantasies she had concocted in her head. Sticking to the train of thought, he continued, "All joking aside, although Maivia isn't proper, his mindset is old-fashioned. The fact that he tried to assassinate me is very strange."

"Why?" Ji Huaisu resumed gnawing on her fried dough stick.

"By traditional standards, we would 'talk' first—negotiating for hours, weeks, or even months, until my part came at the very end," Chu Hengkong said. "Yet they actually made a move before the conflict even escalated. It's ridiculous."

"Then it must have been his son's doing," Ji Huaisu said dismissively. "Young people, you know, totally normal."

Chu Hengkong nodded. This time, his partner made sense. If Maivia's sons always acted on their own initiative, they could serve as an entry point for future assassinations. He could consider capturing one to interrogate as a tongue, or figuring out a way to make them lead the way... Naturally, his thoughts transitioned to assassination, because a criminal syndicate like the club had to die—it was only a matter of time.

Currently, what they lacked most was intelligence. The core members of the Maivia family never seemed to leave, and spies couldn't infiltrate the club, leaving them entirely in the dark. The white-browed man he had ordered to be watched still hadn't reported in, but judging from Tina's memories, that guy was arrogant to the extreme; it was hard to imagine such a person constantly cooped up in the building.

They must have had a method. Invisibility? Disguise? Or something even more bizarre...

Thinking to himself, Chu Hengkong stood up with his tray. "I'm going to practice martial arts."

"You could sleep for a bit before going to see Old Dad..."

"If I don't master the new moves, I won't feel at ease," Chu Hengkong said. "Who knows when a war might break out."

·

Inside the club, in Maivia's office.

Maivia delivered a vicious punch to Visap's face. The melon-sized fist instantly shattered his son's head into fragments, scattering broken glass, skin, and flesh everywhere. Visap fell to his knees, howling like a young mammoth, black blood spurting like oil from his headless neck.

"Father! Don't!" the headless Visap wailed in terror. Maivia kicked him hard in the stomach, cleaving Visap's entire body in two, splashing black blood all over the floor. His expression was terrifyingly ghastly. The eldest daughter, Carmel, hurried over to soothe him. "Father, stop! That's his favorite skin; it took him almost half a day to peel it off..."

"You self-righteous fool!" Maivia roared. "Who gave you the guts to assassinate a senior inspector? That is someone Ji Qiufeng values!!"

"I wanted to eradicate the threat..." Visap hurriedly tried to defend himself.

"And your methods were incompetent and stupid," Maivia's anger flared up again. "If you wanted him dead, you should have asked Master Yan to step in directly! Instead of letting your precious kin risk their lives!"

"Father, he didn't want to alert Master Yan... he..." Carmel whispered in defense, though she well knew her second brother was willful and opinionated.

"That's why I said he's stupid!"

·

Maivia sat in his custom-made, oversized chair, sighing repeatedly. Visap, reduced to black blood, writhed on the carpet, gathering the flesh and skin from the floor and walls to awkwardly piece himself back into an ugly humanoid shape. At that moment, a knock sounded at the door, and a white-browed man walked into the room. Taking one look at the atmosphere, he knew something was wrong. He grabbed Visap off the ground and berated him right off the bat: "How did you manage to tick off Old Dad again? Have a death wish? Hurry up and apologize!"

"…It was my negligence, Father," Visap forced out.

The white-browed man patted his head hard, then instantly plastered on a dog-like, ingratiating smile. "Old Dad, you're magnanimous; let him off this once, won't you?"

"You're not nearly as sensible as White Brow," Maivia sighed once more. "The City Lord's Mansion is already taking notice of us, and I'm very worried about the upcoming ritual. Tell me, Visap, will you work hard to make up for this?"

"I guarantee I will!" Visap promised with his grotesque face. Maivia waved a hand.

"Get out of here, all of you. You, go work on the contingency plan. Countermeasures for an attack, personnel deployment, and guarding the underground... handle every single piece yourself, do you understand? I want you to do it personally."

"I understand, Father," Visap trembled with nervousness, an inept display that caused Maivia to shake his head repeatedly.

"And you, White Brow. The situation is tense now; pick someone from the club, find a clever girl if possible... I don't want another foolish daughter."

"Leave it to me, you can rest easy, Old Dad!" White Brow nodded repeatedly, dragging the other two out the door. Maivia waved his hand as if shooing away a swarm of flies.

"Look at this bunch of fools, Master Yan," he sneered at the departing "children." "Hand the empire over to them, and it'll be ruined in under three years."

"Then you shouldn't consider retiring," the man in the suit said. "What's yours has to stay in your own hands."

He had been in the room the entire time, standing quietly like a servant. He hadn't uttered a sound when Visap was being brutally beaten, only speaking when Maivia addressed him.

"Only I can be the head of the family," Maivia lit a cigarette, not smoking it, merely watching the burning paper roll between his fingers. "The situation is bad. Adali died at the wrong time; we can no longer rely on the swamps to tie up their energy."

"Perhaps we should talk," Master Yan said.

"Is Ji Qiufeng the kind of man who negotiates? Look at his mad-dog of a daughter," Maivia shook his head. "No. Absolutely not. I know what you're going to say, but Kanin is a mad megalomaniac. You can trade with him, but cooperation is impossible."

Maivia's judgment was devoid of any emotion, even though just yesterday he had kissed Kanin on both cheeks, calling him an honored guest and a close friend. Master Yan said nothing; he was merely a bodyguard, and the boss alone was responsible for plotting a way out for the organization.

He watched Maivia hold the cigarette and sink into a prolonged contemplation, a sight that reminded him of the club's early days. Back then, they were dead set on leaving the swamp to make a name for themselves in Midtown, yet they hit wall after wall. When the subordinates gathered around Maivia and asked what they should do, Maivia would hold his cigarette just like that, thinking for a long time before giving a convincing answer.

The burning cigarette scorched Maivia's fingers, and he extinguished it.

"The City Lord's Mansion is going to make a move," he said with absolute certainty. "They've gained a capable craftsman, far better than those useless trash we crushed before. Now Ji Qiufeng has far fewer reservations. Once he decides to strike..."

"Then that's no longer an issue on your or my level," Master Yan pointed upward.

"Whether he or the people outside win, we're the ones who will suffer in the end," Maivia seemed to have made up his mind. "The wealth we've accumulated should be enough. I want to summon the Benevolent Old Man as soon as possible, starting the moment the new daughter is born. I'll make a backup plan... and include myself as well. A portrait, the underground, and myself—that will make three summoning points, much safer."

"Your call," Master Yan said.

Maivia laughed, patting his old partner's hand. "Taking this opportunity, won't you reconsider the ritual? You're in your prime, but you have to think about the future."

"Twenty years from now, my blade will still be just as steady," Master Yan said rigidly.

"Rock-solid, Master," Maivia praised.

He dragged his massive body up and left, heading all the way up through a secret passage. Out of Master Yan's sight, he activated a communication relic, and a few seconds later, White Brow's voice came through.

"Old Dad."

"Prepare a few more 'blood bags'," Maivia's voice was frosty. "Young ones, no older than thirty."

"Leave it to me, I guarantee you'll have them on demand," White Brow replied with a laugh. This bloodthirsty son was most adept at handling kidnappings. Some matters couldn't be assigned openly and required a specialist. When you knew how to handle the nuances, business could last a long time.

Preparations were mostly complete now. Pondering this, Maivia reached the topmost floor of the club. This entire level featured circular stained-glass windows, and the dim light, guided by the windows, converged on a single spot, illuminating a massive color oil painting that occupied the entire front wall. The painting depicted a portly old man with a plump figure and a benevolent smile, his table piled high with various foods and treasures.

Maivia knelt before the gigantic portrait, clasped his hands, and prayed with utmost piety.

"Hermit embraced by the dark moon, benevolent old man who loves to give, please hear my plea... Please grant peace to my family... grant me knowledge, food, and wealth..."

Unnoticed, the light in the room dimmed, and the old man's smile in the painting appeared exceptionally eerie within the shadows. There was no human form to be found in the room, only a pitch-black, foul-smelling silhouette that writhed with the prayer. Dark, water-like streams flowed across the floor, within which floated all sorts of culinary delicacies and gold and silver treasures...

Maivia worshipped the most generous deity in the world; as long as one desired, rewards were guaranteed.

·

Visap walked out of the office, struggling to adjust the skin on his face. He didn't do a very job of it; the scattered flesh failed to align properly each time, causing him to emit an angry growl. The sound startled a cleaning maid, who turned around anxiously. "Visap Young Master, you—"

The maid's voice cut off abruptly. Visap swung his arm, smashing her into a pulp of flesh and blood against the wall. Someone who had done nothing wrong died just like that.

Carmel muttered in disdain, "You messed up the wall again! It's such a pain to clean."

"Just replace the person," Visap said coldly. White Brow slung an arm around his shoulder, chuckling continuously. "Whoa! Venting your anger like that is so inefficient. Why not go play with women instead?"

"Brother White Brow, you play with women every day. Is it really that fun?" Visap said dismissively.

"Your Brother White Brow plays with women, but he doesn't get yelled at. Know why? Because I don't act smart, and Old Dad feels safe leaving things to me," White Brow chuckled. "That's why Carmel doesn't dare bother me no matter how I kill people, but she has the nerve to scold you even if you kill just one. That's the gap between us, catch my drift?"

Carmel huffed, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you're the greatest. Remember to help me find a new leg when you have time; the one I have now isn't pretty enough."

"I'll make sure to chop off a plump one for you."

White Brow walked away chuckling, his retreating figure swaggering like a victorious dog. He had plenty of things to do; finding blood bags was easy, but finding a new daughter was troublesome. He had to personally vet them one by one to pick the best.

Those not chosen could just be locked up for now, White Brow thought indifferently. Killing them one by one was too much trouble; killing them all together was way more fun.

The sky was just beginning to brighten. The night passed in its usual debauchery as men and women squinted their tired eyes and left the club. Meanwhile, the women responsible for providing the pleasure hurried to wash up, trying their best not to let the scent of this place linger on them.

While changing clothes, the cat-girl Yazi was still thinking about the man in the white suit she had met the night before. A woman's intuition told her that man had a story, even though outwardly he looked entirely like a wealthy young heir new to the pleasure quarters. A brief shred of romantic fantasy rose in her mind, but she quickly shook it off. Why think about such things? She had to hurry home to make breakfast and send her child to school...

As she walked, Yazi's steps halted. She saw the white-browed man standing ahead, his expression irritated from fatigue. She hurriedly lowered her head and bowed. "Master Bai."

The white-browed man delivered a resounding slap to her face, and Yazi fell to the ground, clutching her cheek.

"What's this 'Master Bai' business? You trying to make me sound old, huh?" The white-browed man ruthlessly stepped on her hand. "Call me Brother White Brow!"

Enduring the agonizing pain, Yazi knelt on the ground and forced out a smile. "I'm sorry, Brother White Brow."

"That's it, that's a good girl." White Brow produced a large flowing pearl and tossed it to her. "You've been working hard lately. Take your tip and get lost."

"Thank you, Brother White Brow..." Yazi was completely baffled, even feeling terrified. Many guests who had a good time would tip, but everyone knew White Brow never did; he only ever chopped off hands and feet. She racked her brains trying to figure out what she had done wrong to make White Brow want her life.

"Don't be scared, everyone likes a good woman," White Brow twitched the corner of his mouth. "You've got a daughter, right? How old is she?"

"…Ten," Yazi said softly.

"Got a picture? Let me see it."

Yazi felt like turning and running for her life. Slowly, she opened her wallet, which contained a photo of her daughter, Meizi. White Brow snatched the wallet away and glanced at it.

"Not bad! Total material for a beauty!" White Brow laughed. "Your daughter is so lucky. You don't need to come in these past few days. I'll go pick her up at your house later."

"Okay."

"Don't go out after you get back, understand?"

"Okay."

"And don't tell anyone else," White Brow began to lose patience.

"Okay, I understand. Thank you, Brother White Brow."

She bowed deeply, turning and walking home with a tragic, completely resigned calmness. Her home was in Bangxing Mansion, an old apartment building not far from the club where many cat-girls lived. Her husband had helped bake bread, and she fried an egg alongside a "fake meat" slice made of flour and vegetable powder, packing it into a sandwich for her daughter's schoolbag, then smiling as she sent her husband and daughter off.

As she did all this, Yazi appeared as hardworking and strong as ever. Yet once her family left, her strength crumbled from the core. She locked the bedroom door tightly, fell to her knees, and wept silently. The waves of despairing tears washed away her makeup; she tilted her head back toward the ceiling, muttering crazily like a madwoman.

"Please, child, I'm begging you! Meet with me!! I know you're still here, I've seen you playing with Meizi. I have no other choice... I really have no other choice!"

Naturally, the ceiling gave no reply. Yazi wailed in agony.

"Those people from the club, they're going to take my daughter!"

Then, a pair of illusory feet materialized on the ceiling. A little girl dressed in white crawled out, followed by a small dog.

"Stop crying, Auntie," Tina said. "Tell me all about it."