A New World

It was a sunny afternoon, and Wang Yan was making one cold call after another without tiring.

He had just gotten someone on the phone and was talking away when the person on the other end didn't grow impatient, curse him out, or abruptly hang up. They listened quietly to Wang Yan and occasionally asked a few pertinent questions.

Wang Yan knew his chance had come. After talking things through, they arranged to view the property the next day.

Two people came to look at the place the following day: a couple about to marry.

The man was Zhang Hai, a middle manager in charge of technology at an internet company, with an annual salary of a million. The woman's surname was Liu. Wang Yan didn't know her given name—what kind of man would brazenly ask another man's wife what she was called? She was also a manager at a company. She earned somewhat less than Zhang Hai, but not by much. They were two years older than Wang Yan, around thirty.

Because of their upcoming wedding, they didn't choose a new home. After looking for several days, they settled on a second-hand apartment in a busy district. It was 120 square meters and cost twelve million. The seller had initially refused to budge from 12.5 million, but Wang Yan stepped in and got things sorted out.

Wang Yan was now skilled enough, and he spoke with distinction. On top of that, he had helped them save a considerable amount. The couple had a very good impression of him, and there were no problems with the seller either. Neither side was short on money. In the end, Wang Yan collected a one-percent commission, and everyone was happy.

That one deal had earned Wang Yan nearly a hundred thousand yuan—a sum close to what he'd made over the past year. Of course, the money wouldn't arrive that quickly. The paperwork had to be completed first, which would take around one or two months.

The success of the deal had also made Wang Yan see things clearly: there was no point in pursuing useless things. He would make money for now, and once he had enough, he'd take his parents on a nice trip. Then he'd find somewhere with beautiful scenery and enjoy life. As his abilities grew more and more formidable, making money would only get easier. Once he'd earned enough, why bother with all that other nonsense? By then, he'd have realized his worth countless times over.

The following stretch of time passed uneventfully. Wang Yan continued with his usual routine.

Then, one night toward the end of March, Wang Yan was reading when he received another notification from the system.

"Chen Yongren from Infernal Affairs wishes for redemption!"

Seeing Chen Yongren's wish, Wang Yan couldn't help smiling. "Chen Yongren must regret it. He doesn't want to keep struggling in that sea of misery."

The thought flashed through his mind, followed by another: this world was a little dangerous. In the movie, people were constantly getting shot from ambush. Wang Yan decided to put all the attribute points he earned into Constitution. He didn't rush to spend them, though. He preferred to add them a little at a time, so he could adapt and get used to the changes.

He opened his computer, logged into his membership account, and started watching Infernal Affairs 1, 2, and 3. He also looked up some information about Hong Kong Island at the time. To be honest, aside from having watched a few Hong Kong movies, Wang Yan didn't know much about the place, and he couldn't speak Cantonese. There were also all kinds of triads, criminal organizations, and the like. Getting to grips with it all in a short time would be no easy task.

Wang Yan decided not to worry about all that. If he waited until he understood everything thoroughly, who knew how long that would take? Besides, it was a good opportunity to improve his own abilities. The unknown was the best challenge, wasn't it?

He drew the curtains, took a sip of water, and lay down on the bed.

Without another word, he pulled up the panel and chose to enter.

A flash of blue light, and Wang Yan vanished without a trace.

Wang Yan opened his eyes and was startled to find himself standing in front of a cell.

Seeing him staring blankly, the prison guard behind him shoved him hard. "You little punk, what are you standing there for? Get in!"

Wang Yan stumbled forward. He turned to look at the guard without saying anything. He realized he could understand every word the guard was saying.

The guard grew even angrier at the look on his face. "What are you looking at? You wanna hit me? You little punk!" He raised a leg, intending to kick Wang Yan inside.

Wang Yan was quick. Before the guard could even kick, he slipped into the cell and apologized repeatedly. "Sorry about that, sir. I got distracted, haha." He spoke in Cantonese.

The guard lifted his foot and let it fall, unsatisfied. He'd worked himself up to let off steam, but now he was left hanging. His face twitched as he cursed angrily, "Don't cause trouble. Watch yourself, punk!" He slammed the cell door and walked away, still grumbling.

Only then did Wang Yan have a chance to look around. There were four bunk beds, and the place was spacious, with decent conditions. Three other men were staring at him with what they thought were menacing looks.

This clearly wasn't a good time to accept the identity information the system had prepared for him.

Having watched plenty of Hong Kong triad movies, Wang Yan knew what was going on. He'd also prepared himself before coming.

"Stop wasting time. You three can come at me together." Wang Yan didn't bother with pleasantries. He crooked a finger at them.

For three triad punks who spent every day throwing their weight around, this was a supreme humiliation. Without another word, they charged at him.

Wang Yan dodged the first man's punch, ducked low, and slammed a blow into his stomach, making him vomit. He retreated with a springing step, his explosive strength giving him incredible speed, and dodged the second man's flying kick. The third man threw a punch, but he was nowhere near as fast as Wang Yan. Wang Yan landed a hook on his jaw, spun around, and kicked the second man in the small of the back, knocking him flat.

It all happened in a flash. In less than twenty seconds, Wang Yan had put all three out of commission. One clutched his stomach and retched, one had passed out, and the third lay on the floor rubbing his back and groaning. Wang Yan went after them while they were down, pummeling them with punches and kicks. He avoided their vital areas, but still beat them half to death. Even the unconscious one woke up from the pain, and the other two were in no better shape.

Their howls brought the prison guards running. They put the three on stretchers and took them to the infirmary. Seeing how fierce Wang Yan was, the guards who came over gave him a stern warning, but didn't punish him further. They were human too, and they were afraid. Fortunately, the guard from earlier hadn't come along. Otherwise, Wang Yan would have been sure to get a stint in solitary.

After that fight, Wang Yan had a better idea of what ordinary triad punks and street toughs were capable of. He felt somewhat reassured.

He found an empty upper bunk and lay down. At last, he could quietly take in the information.

The identity the system had arranged for him was that of someone who had illegally crossed over from the mainland in 1977 with the crowd. Because of the policies at the time, he'd been given an identity card as soon as he arrived. After years of working his way up, he had finally become the leader of a small gang in Tuen Mun, controlling one street with more than twenty men under him. He'd been imprisoned for assault and sentenced to a year. Now he was serving time.

He wasn't in the legendary Stanley Prison, just an ordinary prison for criminals serving short sentences. Wang Yan wasn't important enough to be sent to Stanley; that was where the big shots were locked up.

The system had also thoughtfully gifted him Level 2 Cantonese.

There was no other information. He'd have to rely on himself. It was now September 1990, and he wouldn't be released until September 1991.

Wang Yan could hardly accept it. They could at least have made him a cop or something. If not, they could have made him an undercover cop. Instead, they'd given him the most thoroughly street-punk identity imaginable. He cursed the damn system for a while. But the system had always been a law unto itself, and he didn't even know if the damn thing was intelligent.

After grumbling inwardly for a while, Wang Yan accepted his lot. It wasn't like he could get out if he didn't.

He opened the system panel and looked at his attributes.

Wang Yan

Attributes: Strength 12

Agility 12

Constitution 13

Spirit 13

Unallocated points 4

Wang Yan debated it for a while, but still didn't add points to Constitution on impulse. He could already feel that improving his Constitution was getting slower and slower. Wouldn't adding points now make it even slower? So he decided to train first, then add points when he hit a wall or needed them in an emergency. That would make the most of them.

He stopped daydreaming, warmed up, and started exercising.

In the more than a month he'd spent in the real world, Wang Yan had been working to make a living and get ahead, so his exercise had fallen off considerably. He'd spend this year in prison relentlessly honing himself. There were plenty of scumbags here, so he could train his body and his fighting skills at the same time.

And when he returned, the system would provide free body maintenance, so he wouldn't have to worry about the consequences. He could just go all out.

Wang Yan had arrived in the afternoon, and the fight hadn't taken long. He'd been exercising ever since, and now he was ravenous.

At long last, the prison guards unlocked the cells, and the inmates gathered in the cafeteria for dinner. The portions were generous, but the food had little flavor, and it was barely passable. It was prison cafeteria food, after all. And Wang Yan had spent more than thirty years eating northern Chinese cuisine, so he wasn't used to it.

Wang Yan thought about how to get some money, win over the guards, and improve his living conditions. He had to exercise a lot every day, and he couldn't afford to go without proper nutrition.

He didn't have a cent on him. As for the men he had outside, Wang Yan figured they'd long since scattered. He couldn't count on them.

After thinking it over, he could only start with the inmates around him.

As he ate quietly and listened to the others at his table talk about life inside and outside prison, Wang Yan got a general sense of the situation.

Hong Kong Island had plenty of triad societies: Hung Hing, Tung Sing, Wo Shing Wo, and countless others, large and small. It was the same in real life, too. Perhaps the system had created this world to keep things balanced.

The system's arrangement meant Wang Yan could only build a career in the underworld. Once you were a gangster, you were a gangster for life. No one would hire him for a legitimate job.

And there was no getting out of the underworld. The day you wanted to leave was the day you were due to die.

Overall, dinner passed in a friendly atmosphere. Members of all sorts of Hong Kong Island gangs were locked up here, so it was only natural for rivals to trade insults.

After eating, the triad punks shoved and jostled their way back to their cells. Wang Yan strolled around the room to help digest his food.

He did some more light exercise, tidied up, then climbed into bed. He was the only one in the cell, so there was no one grinding their teeth, farting, or snoring. He slept soundly until morning.

He got up, warmed up, washed, and it was soon time for breakfast.

After that, the guards assigned them their work. Prison wasn't meant to be a vacation, after all. And since Wang Yan hadn't paid off the guards, the work he was given wasn't easy. He took it in stride. Although manual labor was a far cry from the targeted training he wanted, it was better for building endurance. What more needed to be said about having good endurance?

Wang Yan was working hard to build his endurance, while a bunch of little gang bosses were getting annoyed. "Damn, this kid's pretty cocky. He's here and he still doesn't know to pay his respects to the local bosses?"

When it was time for a break, more than ten men came and surrounded Wang Yan. Two men stepped aside, revealing a brash-looking triad punk in front. "Kid, I'm with Hung Hing. Who are you with? Don't you know the rules?"

Wang Yan looked at the group of disreputable young men in their twenties, trying to intimidate him with their gang credentials and rules. He shook his head, at a loss for words.

They were all empty-handed. Without guns, he wasn't afraid of any of them. He didn't waste words. He swung a punch into the leader's face, then drove a kick into his stomach and sent him flying. Wang Yan had put everything he had into it, knocking several teeth loose. The dazed boss slurred, "Damn it, get him! Don't just stand there!" The other underlings saw their boss give the order and rushed forward to beat Wang Yan up.

The next thing they heard were cries of pain. Wang Yan hurt too. At this point, he could only take on four or five triad punks, and he couldn't do it without getting hurt. Even the worst gangsters had plenty of experience in street fights; ordinary people couldn't match them. Wang Yan had a strong spirit, gritted his teeth, and kept going. He stayed clear-headed and fought the triad punks to a near standstill.

In the end, everyone, Wang Yan included, was lying on the ground. Wang Yan was the first to get up, his face swollen and bruised. Even moving made him wince with pain. He staggered over to the leader, gathered his strength, and pounded him with punches and kicks.

The prison guards had been watching from a distance. Now that they saw who had won, they stepped in to handle things. They hit Wang Yan twice with their batons, making him howl in pain, then pulled him away. After that, they took everyone to the infirmary and loudly ordered the onlookers to get back to work and stop causing trouble.

As soon as the guards left, the gangsters watching started talking. They loved gossip, after all. They all wanted to know where this tough guy had come from and how he could be so fierce. It was only natural. Forget everything else—ordinary people didn't dare provoke Hung Hing. And Wang Yan was a formidable fighter. Don't assume every triad punk was Chen Haonan. As far as Wang Yan could tell, his record would hold up even among the famous fighters and Red Poles. They were all ordinary people; not every one of them could be a boxing champion.

Wang Yan had become famous after one fight. Of course, everything came at a price, and he'd have to bear the consequences. Nearly a quarter of the inmates in this prison belonged to Hung Hing—several hundred men. Wang Yan had stirred up a hornet's nest. They didn't hate him enough to kill him yet, but he was in for a rough time. From now on, he'd be sporting a bruised face every day.

The guards had saved Wang Yan by taking him away. Otherwise, once the people he'd knocked down had recovered, he probably would have been done for. The guard didn't hurry him along as they walked. They understood; after taking that kind of beating, being able to walk on his own was already impressive. They'd only kicked him twice to make a token show of their authority.

As he walked, Wang Yan thought over the fight and reviewed what he'd learned. Before this, he'd only hired individual professional sparring partners. He'd never faced a fight on this scale. His varied training, broad knowledge, and quick reactions had helped him most. Otherwise, with a body only a little stronger than the triad punks', he'd be in the ICU by now.

Fighting, whether against one person or many, ultimately came down to the body. That fight had completely drained him and left him exhausted. Surely most people had gotten into a fight at least once in their lives? Afterward, you felt weak all over; sometimes you even trembled. Wang Yan felt the same way. He wasn't shaking, since years of training had taught him to control himself. The main problem was that he had too little real combat experience and wasn't in control of his strength. He could have knocked someone out with sixty percent of his strength, but he'd used ninety percent and wasted too much.

Wang Yan summed it up in three points: the body, technique, and control.

It sounded like a long walk, but they soon reached the infirmary. The doctor examined everyone one by one and applied medicine. Wang Yan's injuries looked bad, but he'd avoided most of his vital areas. He'd be fine after applying some ointment and resting. So they assigned him a bed and told him to take it easy.

Wang Yan lay on the bed and looked around. The infirmary was fairly large, and it probably had plenty of beds because of years of experience.

As he looked around, Wang Yan spotted the three men he'd beaten up the day before. They clearly saw him too.

They were hard to recognize because their injuries had swollen up after they'd had some time to rest. The three lay in a row, staring at Wang Yan and trying to confirm whether he was the one who'd beaten them up yesterday.

Their eyes met, and they recognized him. The three immediately started laughing and cursing out the Hung Hing men who had just been beaten and were busy badmouthing Wang Yan. It was obvious they weren't part of any major gang. They apologized nervously, then went back to staring at Wang Yan and pulling faces.

The three of them made Wang Yan laugh. It wasn't surprising. They really didn't have a brain between them. They weren't going to stay in the infirmary forever; they'd be back in the cell with Wang Yan soon enough. Didn't they think about what would happen when they got back? And yet here they were, provoking him.

He couldn't be bothered with them, or with a bunch of losers yelling insults. He simply closed his eyes and rested, letting them keep cursing. It was always the same: if you ignored someone, they'd eventually get bored and quiet down. They were plotting how to get back at Wang Yan once they recovered. Wang Yan was more than happy to let them. As long as they didn't kill or cripple him, an activity that trained both his body and his fighting ability was all the better. He couldn't ask for more.