Chapter 3: A New Beginning

The grating roar of the engine gradually faded as 797 came to a halt at the designated spot. When the hatch opened, the first to appear was Zhang Ziran. She was an iconic figure; wherever she was seen, the "Demon King" was sure to follow.

"That bitch's figure just keeps getting better," muttered Huo the Fourth, who was waiting below, his voice loud and unruly.

Zhang Ye and Ma Wen, unwilling to let him run his mouth, each stomped on one of Huo the Fourth's feet. The pain nearly made him jump.

Zhang Ziran, having heard the remark, stood in the hatchway and fixed Huo the Fourth with a cold stare.

"Stare all you want. How high can you jump now? Outsiders are always outsiders," Huo the Fourth thought carelessly, but a moment later he nearly choked on his breakfast. For out came the legendary "Demon King," who, not long ago, was rumored to have failed resuscitation. Aside from a pallid complexion, he looked as if he’d never been ill at all.

As Zhang Ziran approached to help Ma Weimin, she whispered, "Did you hear what Huo Dongjun just said?"

Of course, Little Ma had heard. But as a nobody standing above this assembly of luxury cars and near-military security, his legs felt weak. He was too afraid of giving himself away to say a word.

He believed the only way to face such a situation was to act, to keep quiet and not show fear—because the more cowardly you were, the more trouble you invited.

So, he straightened his back, and from all the movies he’d watched, he summoned a pose he thought looked suitably cool, deliberately slowing his steps.

Descending from the plane, he "looked indifferently" at Huo the Fourth, saying nothing.

He didn’t even know who this guy was, but Huo the Fourth panicked, stammering, "Second Brother, I..."

Ma Weimin raised his hand slightly, and Huo the Fourth immediately fell silent, not daring to utter another word.

Little Ma felt a surge of satisfaction—this seemed even more effective than a remote control—and was keenly aware of this body's authority.

According to the Demon King's temperament, the less he scolded, the more serious the issue. Ma Wen quickly interjected, "Second Brother, you know what Huo Dongjun is like—he just can't keep his mouth shut..."

But under Ma Weimin's gaze, even his elder brother couldn't continue, and the scene fell into a heavy silence.

Huo Dongjun? For his name to appear in that file, he must be at least worth billions, a core member of his family—a man best avoided, as he certainly wouldn’t share normal values.

"Don’t make a scene. My health’s not good; I don’t want to talk about you all," Ma Weimin continued to feign indifference.

Huo Dongjun breathed a sigh of relief.

Ma Weimin decided that was enough and lapsed into silence again.

"You really know how to put on a show," Zhang Ye scoffed, her tone full of disdain. "What’s your game, exactly? First you say you’re on death’s door, then you’re declared dead, and now it turns out none of it was true. If you want to see us act a certain way, just give the word—it would be easier for us all to cooperate."

Little Ma found himself at a loss. No one should dare speak to this body like that, should they? And who was this stunning woman?

So Ma Weimin fell silent once more, fixing her with a Tony Leung–like gaze.

At that moment, he felt Zhang Ziran stealthily trace words on his back: This is your wife. Don’t clash with her in public.

This beauty is my wife? Quick, come home with me and don’t run around... Uh, no. Since she’s my wife, I should keep my distance; otherwise, I’m more likely to be exposed.

At the same time, Ma Weimin felt a chill down his spine. If Zhang Ziran was warning him like this, did it mean she had noticed or suspected something about his "rebirth"?

It’s time to run—this place is too complicated. People die here. Elsewhere, there are laws, but here, perhaps not. That’s what Little Ma thought.

Yet, having been reborn, he couldn’t leave empty-handed after entering a treasure trove; he had to take some wealth back with him.

Having decided, Ma Weimin feigned exhaustion and climbed into a Range Rover.

Of course, this wasn’t his car, but Huo Dongjun’s. He’d chosen it because, judging by the scene, no one here was easy to fool—except Huo Dongjun, who looked the most gullible. The opportunity surely lay with him.

Zhang Ziran frowned deeply and brought her people over, wanting Little Ma to get out, but Ma Weimin simply kept silent, placing a finger to his lips in a gesture for silence.

Given his intimidating presence, all the various factions fell silent, exchanging uncertain glances.

Huo Dongjun’s legs were trembling. He couldn’t fathom why the Demon King had his eye on his battered car. He kept his distance, not daring to approach.

Ma Weimin maintained his silent strategy, poking his head out to fix Huo Dongjun with a stare.

Three seconds passed.

Huo Dongjun, looking as if he’d lost his father, hung his head and slunk over. "Well, Second Brother, it’s been a long time. If you want to talk, of course, that’s a good thing."

So, despite their reluctance, all the others and dozens of luxury cars, with confusion and hesitation, began to leave the airport one after another.

Zhang Ye’s motorcade headed off in the opposite direction—she had no time for the Demon King. Only she dared do such a thing; the rest followed behind the Range Rover.

This was perfect—just what Little Ma wanted. As for what they thought, or how the family affairs would proceed next, Ma Weimin’s attitude was simply: not my concern. After all, the world doesn’t revolve around any one person. If, say, the President of the United States were to die today, America would continue as normal—life goes on; the bureaucrats would ensure everything ran smoothly.

With that thought, Ma Weimin glanced out the window at the cars behind and said, "Tell the trailing cars to leave. No questions allowed."

Huo the Fourth didn’t dare hesitate, hurriedly making a call. Soon, regardless of what those in the other cars thought, they all sped off.

Such was the intimidating power of this body—a force to be used wisely, and a mystique to be maintained. They mustn’t see through him, so the only option was to keep his distance for now.

Once satisfied, Ma Weimin began to survey the luxury car’s interior. He’d really love to own one himself.

But it was clear he couldn’t afford it. This was a specially customized, extended model starting at five million. The interior was spacious; the rear’s ring-shaped seats resembled a small lounge. On one seat lay a down comforter, and, judging by the shape, someone was sleeping beneath it.

Curious, Ma Weimin lifted the comforter to see what was hidden underneath—and nearly broke out in a cold sweat. There, completely naked and sprawled in a most relaxed pose, was a woman.

And not just any woman, but Liu Yuan, the popular film star. As her fan, Ma Weimin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

He quickly dropped the comforter back down, covering Liu Yuan once more.

Even the comforter's fabric was exquisite—top-grade Egyptian cotton, 180-thread double-knit, custom made. The delicate hand-embroidered surface alone marked it as a luxury item, worth three months of Ma Weimin’s former salary.

"If I hadn’t come to pick up Second Brother, she’d still be here flaunting herself," Huo the Fourth explained hurriedly. "She... just came over, got drunk, and crashed here. Honestly, my life is pretty disciplined. Last time, she just happened to join my dinner party..."

He trailed off, silenced by the Demon King’s gaze.

Little Ma found it all rather amusing—this was exactly the kind of coward he could intimidate.

Feeling no shame at all, Ma Weimin said, "Can you get cash?"

Huo the Fourth, flattered, replied, "Of course! How much do you need, Second Brother, and what for?"

"Do I look like someone who likes explaining himself? As much as possible, naturally," Ma Weimin replied, his tone full of ill intent.

Huo the Fourth nodded eagerly. "I’ll make a few calls."

Turning to the side, he began dialing.

Ma Weimin then decisively ordered, "Stop the car."

So the entire Range Rover convoy had to pull over in the middle of nowhere.

"All right, I’ll have the cash brought over. Hurry. I’ll send the coordinates," Huo the Fourth said into his phone, hanging up afterward.

No one had any idea what the Demon King wanted, but no one dared to ask.

After a while, the drunken starlet awoke, rubbed her eyes, and was startled to see a sickly-looking young stranger in the car. She was surprised but didn’t dare ask questions—anyone with Huo the Fourth was bound to be no ordinary person.

Their eyes met, and Little Ma nearly blurted out a request for her autograph, but at the last second, he changed it to, "State your measurements."

Liu Yuan nearly fainted—what kind of opening was that?

"My Second Brother asked you for your measurements, are you deaf?" Huo the Fourth snapped at her, his temper flaring...

The cash was delivered by an entire convoy!

The money arrived in a special armored truck, the kind used for vaults. Like warehouse pallets, staggering sums of cash were stacked in neat cubes, wrapped in plastic, and forklifted out—each pallet was a hundred million, weighing a ton. That enormous pile of cash was placed right on the roadside before dawn.

Two teams of armed guards stood watch, guns at the ready.

Ma Weimin nearly lost it. He’d expected that in the middle of the night, Young Master Huo would send a few lackeys to scrape together a few hundred thousand from the ATMs. But here he was, faced with "one pallet, one hundred million"—a total of 1.2 billion, an entire truckload.

Even if Li Yuanba himself were here, he couldn’t carry that much away!

"Mr. Huo, the vault isn’t officially open yet. This is all we could get from the Haidong District for now," the team leader explained. Huo Dongjun nodded slightly, then looked anxiously at the Demon King for his reaction.

But Ma Weimin was just staring, mouth half-open, at the money.

Of course, no one believed he’d be shocked by this mere "pocket change," so everyone fell silent again, exchanging uneasy glances, all wondering what he was up to this time.