The Respectable Underworld

At 7:00 in the morning, Chu Hengkong had just gotten off the night shift and was eating plain noodles for breakfast. Across the table, Ji Huaishu stared at the newspaper with a deep frown. It was a copy of the City Daily News, much beloved by high society. Its front page carried an article attacking the fruit vendors of Jade Marsh District, alongside a large photograph of rotten Water Fox Fruit—a fruit that resembled a small blue watermelon.

"Utter nonsense. Total bullshit." Ji Huaishu tossed the newspaper onto the table. "Anyone who's been to the market even once knows Water Fox Fruit is tougher than people. It won't spoil even after sitting out in the open for a week."

Chu Hengkong curled a tentacle around the paper and skimmed it.

"The report says this is a tactic by a demonic cult from the lower districts to corrupt the Central District, and implies that the City Lord's Office disregards food safety in order to stimulate the economy." He pointed at the article. "The logic is coherent and perfectly reasonable."

Jie An was making cheung fun behind the counter. Hearing this, he opened the little window. "Hehehe, that's complete bullshit! I personally helped the Food and Drug Department revise the food safety standards last week! From Jade Marsh to the Central District, Relic inspections alone have to be passed three times. It's way safer than the slapdash system Adali used to run, okay?!"

"The people who read that garbage won't care about facts." Ji Huaishu's face was full of disgust. "It's another one of Maiweia's tricks to muddy the waters."

"Typical underworld behavior," Chu Hengkong said.

Ji Huaishu was utterly baffled. "How is that underworld behavior? They run casinos and brothels."

"I mean the traits they share as members of the underworld." Chu Hengkong took out a stack of files and tossed them over. Ji Huaishu leafed through them carefully and discovered that they were an investigative report on the Maiweia family. The intelligence included Maiweia, his three children, and an enforcer whose information was unknown. This former assassin's ability to get things done was always astonishing. He had only learned the suspected identity of the mastermind yesterday, yet today he had already pieced together a detailed document from old files and field inquiries.

"Maiweia's wife died twenty years ago. He never remarried afterward, so he has no biological children. Those so-called 'descendants' are all adopted core members of the family. That's the first shared trait of underworld families: they worship loyalty in the name of blood." Chu Hengkong explained, "The second is their close connection to surface society. Media, food, industry... they provide 'protection' to every line of work in order to expand their sphere of influence. That is why the underworld's tentacles reach into every field, just like this newspaper. Fortunately, Dragon's Return City has no politicians. Otherwise, we would likely have to deal with high-ranking officials with underworld backgrounds as well."

"Thanks, underworld master. You only get this talkative at times like this..." Ji Huaishu showed little interest.

Chu Hengkong finished his noodles and set down his chopsticks. "But their main business is flesh peddling and gambling. That isn't how a respectable underworld operates."

Ji Huaishu nearly choked. "Hey! Don't you think it's weird to put 'respectable' and 'underworld' together?"

Chu Hengkong frowned at her, seemingly deeply offended. "Our respectable underworld's primary businesses were real estate, manufacturing, and film. All transparent, public, legal businesses. Besides that, we were responsible for maintaining local order... Only conscienceless thugs would engage in flesh peddling."

"Damn, how upright! If I didn't know you never lied, I'd want to question that twice over." Ji Huaishu waved half a fried dough stick around. "So most of the time back then, you were your boss's bodyguard?"

"Sometimes," Chu Hengkong said. "Other times, I was responsible for getting rid of those conscienceless scum."

Ji Huaishu put down her fried dough stick and sat up straight. Even she felt a little too embarrassed to clown around now. The man across from her spoke calmly, but there was an unyielding pride in his words, making him seem like a masked hero devoted to protecting the city... Unfortunately, Hero Bro's left arm was now a slick tentacle, while his right hand was still holding a clump of noodles. There was little heroic spirit to be seen; instead, he looked more like an old uncle sighing over memories of the past...

"No matter how dashing you were back then, now you can only be Tentacle Man." Ji Huaishu said mournfully.

Chu Hengkong found this deeply inexplicable. He had no idea what the other woman had imagined. Following her train of thought, he continued, "Back to the point. Although Maiweia isn't respectable, his way of thinking is old-fashioned. His attempt to assassinate me is very strange."

"Why?" Ji Huaishu resumed chewing on her fried dough stick.

"By traditional practice, we would first 'have a talk'—negotiations lasting hours, weeks, or even months. Only at the very end would it be my turn to appear," Chu Hengkong said. "Yet they acted before the conflict had even escalated. It's ridiculous."

"Then it was probably his son who did it." Ji Huaishu said indifferently. "Young people, you know? Totally normal."

Chu Hengkong nodded. This time, his partner had a point. If Maiweia's sons were always acting on their own initiative, they could be used as an opening for future assassinations. He could capture one for questioning, or find a way to make them lead the way... His thoughts naturally shifted toward assassination, because an underworld outfit like the club had to die. It was merely a matter of sooner or later.

What they lacked most right now was intelligence. The Maiweia family's core members seemingly never went out, and their scouts could not infiltrate the club, leaving them without a scrap of information. There was still no word on the white-browed man he had ordered watched, but based on Tina's memories, the man was arrogant to the extreme. It was hard to imagine someone like that staying cooped up in the building all the time.

They must have some method. Invisibility? Disguises? Or something even stranger...

Chu Hengkong pondered in silence, then stood up with his tray. "I'm going to train."

"You could sleep first and go see Dad afterward..."

"I won't feel at ease until I learn a new move," Chu Hengkong said. "Who knows when war will break out?"

The club, Maiweia's office.

Maiweia viciously punched Visaf. The fist, as large as a muskmelon, smashed his son's head into fragments. Shattered glass and flesh scattered everywhere. Visaf dropped to his knees, his howl like that of a young mammoth, while black blood sprayed from his headless neck like crude oil.

"Father! Don't!" Headless Visaf cried out in terror. Maiweia kicked him in the stomach, splitting Visaf's entire body into two. Black blood splattered all over the floor. His expression was terrifying enough to frighten anyone, and his eldest daughter Carmel hurried forward to soothe him. "Father, don't do this! That was his favorite skin. It took nearly half a day to peel off..."

"You self-righteous idiot!" Maiweia roared. "Who gave you the nerve to assassinate a senior inspector? He's someone Ji Qiufeng values!!"

"I wanted to eliminate the threat..." Visaf hurriedly defended himself.

"And your methods were incompetent and stupid." Maiweia's anger flared again. "If you wanted someone dead, you should have directly hired Master Yan! Instead of sending your precious kin to take the risk!"

"Father, he didn't want to alarm Master Yan... he..." Carmel defended him softly, though she knew that her second brother was stubborn and self-willed.

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

Maiweia sat in his specially made oversized chair and sighed repeatedly. Visaf, who was now nothing but black blood, squirmed across the carpet, gathering up the flesh from the floor and walls to barely piece together an ugly humanoid shape. At that moment, there was a knock at the door, and a white-browed man entered the room. One look at the atmosphere told him things were bad. He grabbed Visaf off the ground and immediately berated him. "How did you make Dad angry again? Are you trying to die? Hurry up and apologize!"

"...It was my fault, Father," Visaf said with difficulty.

Whitebrow smacked him hard on the head, then turned with a doglike fawning smile. "Dad, you're a great man with a great heart. Let him off, okay?"

"You're not even as sensible as Whitebrow." Maiweia sighed once more. "The City Lord's Office has already begun paying attention to us. I'm very worried about the ritual ahead. Tell me, Visaf—will you work hard to make up for this?"

"I swear I will!" Visaf promised with his ugly face. Maiweia waved a hand.

"Get out, all of you. You, prepare contingency plans. Countermeasures in the event of an attack, personnel deployment, and the guards underground... arrange everything yourself. Do you understand? I want you to handle it personally."

"I understand, Father." Visaf trembled nervously, and Maiweia could only shake his head again and again at such a pathetic sight.

"And you, Whitebrow. The situation is tense right now, so pick someone from within the club. Find a clever girl if possible... I don't want another stupid daughter."

"Leave it to me, Dad. You can rest assured!" Whitebrow nodded repeatedly and dragged the other two out of the office. Maiweia waved them away as though he were driving off a swarm of flies.

"Look at these idiots, Master Yan." He sneered at the departing "children." "If I handed the business over to them, it would vanish into thin air within three years."

"Then don't consider retirement," said the man in the suit. "What's yours should remain in your own hands."

He had been in the room the entire time, standing quietly like a servant. Visaf had been beaten so terribly, yet he had not made a sound. He only spoke when Maiweia did.

"Only I can be the head of the family." Maiweia lit a cigarette but did not smoke it, merely watching the burning paper roll between his fingers. "The situation is bad. Adali died at the wrong time. We can no longer count on the swamp to tie up their attention."

"Perhaps it is time to talk," Master Yan said.

"Is Ji Qiufeng a man who negotiates? Look at that mad-dog daughter of his." Maiweia shook his head. "No. It won't work. I know what you want to say, but Kaning is a madman with grand ambitions. You can make deals with him, but you can never work with him."

There was not a trace of emotion in Maiweia's assessment, despite the fact that only yesterday, he had kissed Kaning on both cheeks and called him a distinguished guest and dear friend. Master Yan said nothing. He was only a bodyguard; it was the boss's duty to plot a way out for the organization.

He watched Maiweia hold the cigarette and sink into long contemplation. The sight reminded him of the days when the club had first made its fortune. Back then, they had been single-mindedly determined to leave the swamp and make a name for themselves in the Central District, only to hit wall after wall. Their subordinates would gather around Maiweia and ask what they should do. Maiweia would hold a cigarette like this and think, then after a long while offer an answer that convinced them all.

The burning cigarette scorched Maiweia's fingers, and he snuffed it out.

"The City Lord's Office is about to make a move," he said with utter certainty. "They have gained a capable pair of Skillful Hands, someone far stronger than those useless things we crushed before. Ji Qiufeng has far fewer concerns now. Once he decides to act..."

"Then it will no longer be a matter on your or my level." Master Yan pointed upward.

"Whether he wins or loses against whoever is outside, we'll be the ones who suffer in the end." Maiweia seemed to have made up his mind. "The accumulation of wealth should be enough by now. I will summon the Benevolent Old Man as soon as possible. The moment the new daughter is born, we begin. I will make one more preparation... include myself as well. The portrait, underground, and myself—three summoning points. Much safer that way."

"As you say," Master Yan said.

Maiweia laughed and patted his old partner's hand. "While we're at it, won't you reconsider the ritual? You're in your prime, but you should think about the future too."

"In another twenty years, my blade will still be steady," Master Yan said in a rigid tone.

"Steady as a rock, Master." Maiweia praised him.

He dragged his enormous body from the room and headed upward through a secret passage. Once he was out of Master Yan's sight, he activated a Relic for communication. A few seconds later, Whitebrow's voice came from it.

"Dad."

"Prepare more 'blood packs.'" Maiweia's voice was ice-cold. "Young ones. None older than thirty."

"Leave it to me, Dad. I guarantee they'll be ready whenever you need them." Whitebrow agreed with a smile. This bloodthirsty son was best at kidnappings like these. Some things could not be ordered in front of others; they had to be entrusted to specialists. Only by knowing where to draw the line could the business last.

With the preparations mostly in place, Maiweia continued thinking as he reached the club's top floor. The entire floor was lined with round stained-glass windows. The dim light gathered where the windows guided it, illuminating a huge colored oil painting that covered the front wall. The painting depicted a wealthy old man, plump in body and peaceful in smile, with a table piled high with all kinds of food and treasure behind him.

Maiweia knelt before the enormous portrait, clasped his hands, and prayed with incomparable devotion.

"Recluse embraced by the dark moon, benevolent old man who delights in charity, please hear my plea... Grant my family peace... Grant me knowledge, food, and wealth..."

Before he realized it, the room had darkened. The old man's smile in the painting became especially eerie beneath the shadows. No human form could be found in the room. There was only a pitch-black, foul-smelling outline writhing with the prayer. Dark liquid flowed across the floor like water, and within it emerged exquisite delicacies, gold and silver treasures...

Maiweia worshipped the most generous god in the world. So long as one desired, one would surely be rewarded.

Visaf walked out of the office and tried hard to adjust his face. He did not do it very well. The scattered flesh would not fit back together each time, and he let out an irritated shout. The sound startled a maid who was cleaning nearby. She turned her head anxiously. "Young Master Visaf, you—"

The maid's voice stopped abruptly. Visaf swung an arm, smashing her against the wall into a puddle of blood and flesh. A person who had done absolutely nothing wrong died just like that.

Carmel muttered in distaste, "You got the wall dirty again! It's such a hassle to clean."

"Just replace someone," Visaf said coldly. Whitebrow slung an arm around his shoulder and grinned. "Wow! That's such an inefficient way to vent your anger. Why not go play with women instead?"

"Brother Whitebrow, you play with women every day. Is it really that fun?" Visaf said disdainfully.

"Brother Whitebrow plays with women, but Brother Whitebrow doesn't get scolded. Know why? Because I don't try to be clever. Dad trusts me with things." Whitebrow chuckled. "That's why Carmel doesn't dare nag me no matter how many people I kill, but she has the nerve to criticize you even when you kill one. That's the difference, understand?"

Carmel said irritably, "Yes, yes, you're the best. Remember to find me a new leg when you have time. The one I have now isn't pretty enough."

"I'll definitely chop you off a plump one."

Whitebrow left with a snicker, his back brimming with swagger like a dog that had won a battle. He still had plenty to do. Finding blood packs was easy, but finding a new daughter was troublesome. He would have to inspect them one by one himself before he could choose.

The ones who weren't chosen could be locked up for now, Whitebrow thought carelessly. Killing them one by one was too much trouble. Killing them all at once was more fun.

Dawn had only just broken. The night had passed in its usual haze of drunken extravagance. Men and women left the club with tired eyes half-closed, while the women responsible for providing pleasure hurriedly washed up, doing their best not to leave the club's scent on their bodies.

As she changed clothes, the catgirl Yazi was still thinking about the man in the white formal suit she had met the night before last. A woman's intuition told her that he had a story, even though he looked exactly like a wealthy young man entering the pleasure quarters for the first time. Briefly, some romantic fancies rose in her mind, but she quickly brushed them aside. What was the point of thinking about that? She still had to hurry home, make breakfast, and send her child to school...

As she walked, Yazi suddenly stopped. She saw the white-browed man standing ahead of her, his expression irritable from exhaustion. She hurriedly lowered her head and bent at the waist. "Lord White."

The white-browed man slapped her hard across the face. Yazi covered her cheek and fell to the ground.

"Why call me Lord White? Do you know that makes me sound old?" The white-browed man stomped viciously on her hand. "Just call me Brother Whitebrow!"

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

"That's more like it. Good girl." Whitebrow took out a large Flow Pearls and tossed it to her. "You've been working very diligently lately. Take your tip and get going."

"Thank you, Brother Whitebrow..." Yazi did not understand, and she even felt terrified. Many customers who had enjoyed themselves would give tips, but everyone knew Whitebrow never did. He only chopped off people's hands and feet. She racked her brains, trying to figure out what she had done wrong that would make Whitebrow buy her life.

"Don't be scared. Everyone likes good girls." Whitebrow tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You have a daughter, right? How old is she this year?"

"...Ten," Yazi said softly.

"Do you have a photo? Let me see."

Yazi almost wanted to flee for her life. Slowly, she opened her wallet. Inside was a photograph of her daughter, Meizi. Whitebrow snatched the wallet away and glanced at it.

"Not bad! A little beauty in the making!" Whitebrow laughed. "Your daughter is really fortunate. You don't need to come in for the next few days. After that, I'll go to your home and pick her up."

"Okay."

"After you go back, don't leave the house, understand?"

"Okay."

"And don't tell anyone." Whitebrow was beginning to lose patience.

"Okay, I understand. Thank you, Brother Whitebrow."

She bowed deeply, then turned and walked home with a sorrowful calm that seemed to have completely accepted reality. Her home was in Bangxing Tower, an old apartment building not far from the club. Many catgirls lived there. Her husband helped toast the bread. She fried an egg and a slice of "fake meat" made from flour and plant powder, made a sandwich for her daughter and put it in her schoolbag, then smiled as she saw her husband and daughter out the door.

While she did all this, Yazi appeared as hardworking and strong as she usually was. But after her family left, the strength in her bones collapsed. She locked the bedroom door tight, knelt on the floor, and wept silently. Those despairing tears washed away her makeup. She looked up at the ceiling and muttered like a madwoman.

"Please, child, I'm begging you! Come see me!! I know you're still here. I saw you playing with Meizi. I have no other way... I really have no other way!"

Naturally, the ceiling gave no reply. Yazi howled in anguish.

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

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

"Don't cry, Auntie," Tina said. "Tell me about it."