Monster

On the way as Chan Kwok Chung's group left.

Chan Kwok Chung didn't offer any explanation regarding the warden, and the group chose to remain silent on the matter.

Kwok Tsz Sum turned his head, changing the subject.

He asked Luk Koon Wah with a hint of confusion, "Brother Wah, why were you so quiet today? You're not acting like yourself at all."

In the past, Luk Koon Wah was the most hot-tempered among the team in the Western District's serious crimes unit, the type to explode at the slightest provocation.

But today, his demeanor was far too subdued, truly surprising everyone.

Luk Koon Wah paused his chewing of gum upon hearing this.

Then, without preamble, he said, "That kid is pretty formidable."

Kwok Tsz Sum looked utterly bewildered. "Huh?"

Luk Koon Wah continued, "Last time, when Brother Chung and I visited, that kid was just being assigned there on his first day. He ended up injuring several inmates in the same cell that day."

"Later, worried he might cause trouble, I asked someone to keep an eye on him. A prison guard friend at Stanley mentioned him a few times."

"He said the kid was like the Terminator in prison, quite an exaggeration."

"For this incident, I asked again on my way here."

He paused again, and after a moment, said, "The result... is even more exaggerated than what Brother Chung said."

"Within seven minutes, he injured dozens of people with his bare hands."

"Among them, Zhong Yi Xin's killer, A Ji, suffered the most severe injuries: scapula and shoulder bone dislocation, fractured ribs, dislocated jawbone, deformed right arm bones, muscle tears..."

"When my friend told me, I thought I was listening to a movie."

"Honestly, even when we got to the house, I was still in shock, not quite recovered the whole time."

Kwok Tsz Sum: "..."

"Is he really that intimidating..." Lee Wai Lok clicked his tongue and muttered, "But what's the use of having good skills? This is the era of firearms; the time for hand-to-hand combat is long past."

Lee Wai Lok was quite proficient when it came to firearms.

He was the best shot among the officers at the Western District Police Station.

Western District, Zhong Yi Building, top-floor private club.

The luxuriously decorated club exuded an overwhelming sense of opulence both inside and out.

In the top-floor hall.

The portly Wong Po stood on a stage, gripping a golf club in one hand and holding a cigar in the other, his demeanor composed.

Seven or eight Zhong Yi Xin thugs in suits stood guard in the surrounding corners.

Wong Po sported a neat slicked-back hairstyle, his hair with a slight touch of gray. At first glance, he appeared to be an elderly fat man, but his prominent aura left a strong initial impression.

At this moment, a tall, thin thug wearing a black hat hurried in.

He quickly walked onto the stage and whispered into Wong Po's ear, "Master Bao, something's happened to A Ji."

Wong Po stopped what he was doing.

The slight frown on his previously amiable face deepened.

His dark pupils contracted slightly, instantly revealing a hint of coldness.

Wong Po remained silent for a moment, the air pressure around him seeming to drop.

For an instant, everyone else in the hall involuntarily lowered their heads.

Only then did Wong Po finally speak, "Isn't A Ji in Stanley Prison? What happened?"

The tall, thin thug lowered his head. "There was a group incident inside. A Ji was severely injured by an inmate there."

As soon as he finished speaking.

BANG!!!

A leather chair was suddenly kicked away by Wong Po, crashing into the corner of a table below the stage, emitting a loud impact.

Wong Po's face instantly became clouded with gloom, and he said fiercely, "Who did it?"

A Ji was his right-hand man, the most trusted subordinate in Zhong Yi Xin. He had been sent to Stanley Prison the last time he was working for him.

Wong Po had always valued A Ji highly.

Not only because A Ji's skills were good enough, but also because Wong Po never had to worry about A Ji when he handled matters.

To a certain extent, A Ji was like the face of Zhong Yi Xin in public.

Messing with A Ji was like messing with Zhong Yi Xin.

Wong Po's face was grim, his eyes filled with a violent emotion that could tear everything apart.

The tall, thin thug lowered his head even further:

"The one who did it was a newly admitted inmate at Stanley Prison, named A Ren."

"The people inside said his fighting skills were monstrous."

"A Ji couldn't even last a hundred rounds against him."

Actually, the original words of the runner who delivered the message were that A Ji couldn't even last one round inside before being severely injured.

They said the guy named A Ren was a monster, with three heads and six arms.

With every punch and kick, he beat A Ji until he was completely defeated.

However, considering how rumors tend to get exaggerated with each retelling, he very rationally chose to tone down the description considerably.

Otherwise, he was afraid of scaring Master Bao...

And also afraid of being beaten to death by a furious Master Bao.

Damn it, that was too much!

They even made him out to have three heads and six arms!

After the tall, thin henchman finished speaking, he immediately lowered his head.

Wong Po, with a grim expression, slowly turned his broad shoulders.

He cast a glance at the henchman with his fierce eyes and said expressionlessly, "Keep an eye on him. When he gets out, arrange for someone to take care of him immediately."

Song Ren returned to Zone 9.

It was very obvious that the number of inmates in the entire zone had significantly decreased.

Most of them were still recuperating in the infirmary. A Ji, the most severely injured, was in the intensive care unit, bandaged like a mummy from head to toe, unable to move at all.

It was tough on the nurses; every time a nurse came to change his dressing, they had to endure A Ji's sinister, murderous gaze.

They changed his dressing with trembling hearts, and the poor nurses had even cried several times from fear.

When Song Ren returned this time, the inmates in the entire zone looked at him with even more fervent eyes.

Siu Jai Ming, with his sharp eyes and lingering bruises on his face, hurried over from a distance with a fawning smile. "Brother Ren, you're back!"

After Song Ren was out of the guards' sight, he magically produced a pack of cigarettes and several large bars of chocolate, tossing them to him.

Siu Jai Ming's smile widened even further. "Brother Ren, where did you get these? Didn't those guards search you?"

"Just take it, stop asking so many questions," Song Ren said with a playful scolding, then continued, "I'm just back to pass on some instructions this time. I'll have to go back to solitary confinement soon, so I don't have much time."

The solitary confinement was just a pretense, actually.

He was about to take the identity of a death row inmate and represent Stanley Prison in a boxing match against Fook Shing Building.

But before that, he had returned to the zone first.

He needed to give A Lok a few more instructions, just in case anything happened while he was gone.