Little White Tiger

The story was set in another world.

A hundred years after the apocalypse struck.

The world lay in ruins, all life withered, and supplies were scarce.

Ice Prefecture, Dead Man's Prison.

The prison with the harshest conditions in the apocalypse.

"Name: White Tiger."

"Prisoner number 00191. Crime: murder."

Clank, clank, clank.

Cold iron chains dragged across the damp concrete.

Escorted by five guards, a tall youth with sharp brows and bright eyes walked into the prison.

"Brother Tiger."

"Brother Tiger."

Across the prison yard, inmates who had been chatting, shooting the breeze, or amusing themselves rose to look at the youth as he walked slowly past.

A dozen or so youths around White Tiger's age lined up and bowed to welcome him, their eyes filled with reverence beyond words.

It was hard to imagine a youth commanding such respect in prison.

"Little White Tiger from Red Three Street?"

"Old Xie's deadliest blade on Third Street? How'd he end up here?"

"Heh, you haven't heard? He killed Madman Yang for Old Xie, and Old Xie turned around and sold him out."

"This kid's too wild. Even Old Xie couldn't keep him in line. Looks like the prison's in for trouble again."

"This should be good. Madman Yang was one of Mr. Li's men."

Half a month earlier, Madman Yang had just been released from prison when he set his sights on Little White Tiger's boss's territory.

His cowardly boss had fled at once, leaving Little White Tiger to deal with the mess.

To save his boss's reputation, Little White Tiger had gone alone to negotiate with Madman Yang. In the end, Madman Yang died in his own home.

But no one had expected Little White Tiger's boss to hand him over the moment he returned, appeasing the fury of Madman Yang's backer.

Just like that, Little White Tiger had been sold out by his own boss.

As it happened, Madman Yang had served time here, and more than half the inmates were his brothers.

Bloodshed was inevitable.

"Old Yang, come take the newcomer."

At the guard's shout, a full-bearded man in a yellow padded coat walked over with a wide grin.

Understaffed in the apocalypse, prisons used inmates to manage other inmates.

The youth named White Tiger lifted his head slightly, a barely perceptible killing intent in his eyes.

"He's yours. This kid's due for execution on the first of next month. Don't let him cause trouble, and don't let anyone bully him."

After those instructions, the guard hunched his neck against the cold, lit a cigarette, and hurried away.

"Little White Tiger, is Old Xie from Red Three Street your boss?"

Old Yang fished a packet of tobacco from his coat pocket, rolled some in newspaper, and lit it.

"He used to be. Not anymore."

Snowflakes clung to White Tiger's lashes. His gaze was sharp, and he made no attempt to hide his murderous aura.

"You killed Madman Yang?"

Old Yang spat out a thick wad of phlegm, his eyes cold.

Little White Tiger raised his brows slightly, an amused smile curling his lips. "You planning to stand up for him, old-timer?"

"Do you know Madman and I were brothers who put our lives on the line for each other?"

At that, Old Yang's twenty-odd lackeys slowly surrounded Little White Tiger.

Everyone sent to Dead Man's Prison was a serious offender, and none of them had any scruples.

In the distance, the guard who had escorted Little White Tiger glanced at the yard and indifferently shut the heavy iron gate.

People died every day in Dead Man's Prison. As long as there was no riot, the guards would not intervene.

The young brothers beside Little White Tiger silently gathered around to shield him.

"Brother Tiger, Madman Yang used to do time in Dead Man's Prison. Most of the bosses here are his brothers," a skinny lackey with a buzz cut explained quietly.

Little White Tiger coldly raised his cuffed hands and smiled at Old Yang. "Can you still lift a blade, old-timer?"

Old Yang frowned slightly at the provocation.

As one of the prison's bosses, Old Yang had seen plenty of inmates, but someone as outrageously arrogant as Little White Tiger was rare indeed.

"Kid, being tough outside means nothing here. No matter how big a name you are, in here you keep your head down."

Old Yang jabbed a finger into Little White Tiger's chest, making the threat unmistakable.

"Here's the deal. Give me two hundred thousand, then kneel and bang your head on the ground three times in front of all my brothers. I'll let you live until the day they shoot you."

Old Yang acted as though he had Little White Tiger firmly under his thumb. The other bosses watching the show cast mocking looks his way.

"I've got no money. Why don't you try laying a hand on me?"

White Tiger snatched the cigarette from Old Yang's mouth. "Old-timer, hundreds of thousands die in Ice Prefecture every year. Your family won't make much difference."

Little White Tiger was notorious for his vicious ruthlessness. Old Yang did not scare him in the slightest.

Old Yang had not expected such defiance. Humiliated, he snapped, "You're threatening me? Heh, you don't get a choice about paying. I guarantee you won't last three days in this prison."

"I'm in here, but Old Ninth's still outside. If you've got the balls, beat me to death in my cell." Little White Tiger stopped arguing, turned, and walked away.

Old Yang's expression shifted uncertainly. That man-eating look in Little White Tiger's eyes unnerved him.

Little White Tiger might not measure up to the powerful bosses outside with their far-reaching connections, but there was no dealing with a half-grown kid who acted without regard for the consequences.

The fierce feared the reckless, and the reckless feared those who didn't care whether they lived.

Little White Tiger and Old Ninth were the two young men in Ice Prefecture most willing to gamble with their lives.

"Move."

Little White Tiger looked up at one of Old Yang's lackeys, who stood a full head taller than him.

The man puffed out his chest, showing off as he stared back defiantly.

Little White Tiger stepped back and moved aside.

Without a word, a skinny lackey beside him pulled out a sharpened toothbrush and drove it straight into the burly man's abdomen.

Whoosh.

Old Yang's brothers instantly surged into a shoving match with Little White Tiger.

"Nobody fucking move!"

Little White Tiger's other brothers all drew the assorted weapons hidden on their bodies.

Toothbrushes, razor blades, sharpened iron window bars, and more.

Faced with a powerful enemy, not one of those boys backed down.

"Times have changed, old-timer. Being around longer doesn't mean anyone owes you respect. I'll send one kid into Dead Man's Prison every day, each one coming straight for your life. How many times can you dodge them?"

Little White Tiger dropped the cigarette butt, his eyes full of contempt.

The young brothers beside him might all have looked scrawny, but the ferocity in their eyes could not be faked.

Those were the eyes of people who truly dared to kill.

"Old Ninth isn't fucking dead yet, and you want to play games with me? You've got parents, right? A wife and kids? Old-timer, believe me when I say one word from me, and tomorrow you'll be asking for leave to attend their funerals."

Facing dozens of men, Little White Tiger felt no fear. If anything, he looked slightly excited.

By contrast, most of Old Yang's men had brought no weapons, thinking they would first bleed Little White Tiger dry of his money.

This was the apocalypse. Medicine was scarce, and getting wounded in prison was practically a death sentence.

Old Yang stared at Little White Tiger, his expression frighteningly dark.

"White Tiger, you've made this a serious problem."

One of their men had been stabbed right at their first meeting. Old Yang's brothers clenched their fists, swearing revenge.

"What's going on? What's going on? Who did this?"

A dozen guards rushed in and broke up the crowd. The older guard leading them had a bulging belly and a gun tucked at his waist.

At the sight of the older guard, Old Yang's expression changed slightly, revealing a trace of apprehension.

"Brother Zhu, what's this supposed to mean?"

Inmates managing inmates was an unwritten rule in the prison. Brother Zhu's intervention clearly broke that rule.

"Do I need to report to you before I do my job?" Brother Zhu jabbed a finger into Old Yang's chest. "How about you become the warden?"

However tough Old Yang was in prison, he was still only an inmate. He could not openly confront a guard. With a cold laugh, he pointed at Little White Tiger. "So you've got Brother Zhu backing you. Fine. We'll cross paths again. If you're not dead within three days, I'll take your surname."

"I'll be waiting." Little White Tiger was ruthless and sparing with words. He pointed at Old Yang. "Don't disappoint me, old-timer."

Only after Old Yang left did Brother Zhu sigh. "Didn't I tell you not to cause trouble?"

Little White Tiger gave Brother Zhu a grateful look but said nothing more.

The two were clearly old acquaintances.

"They won't let this go," Brother Zhu warned.

"I know."

One of the young brothers took off his coat and draped it over Little White Tiger's shoulders. Little White Tiger stepped on the burly man lying on the ground as he walked into the cellblock.

"Little White Tiger's even more ruthless than the rumors say."

"Old Ninth out there is worse. Otherwise, Old Yang would've made his move already."

"Old Yang's not the type to swallow a loss either. He'll definitely get revenge."

The watching old hands buzzed with discussion.