Bang!
"Get the fuck down! We're closed today!"
The customers in the lobby might have been smartly dressed, but the moment the gun went off, they hit the floor faster than anyone.
A few guards tried to draw their guns on the sly, only for the teenagers to raise theirs and shoot them dead.
At the sound of gunfire, hurried footsteps rang out upstairs.
Dozens of thugs charged out of the emergency stairwell, weapons in hand.
Ratatat!
The dreadlocked boy snatched a gun from his companion and let loose a burst, forcing them straight back into the stairwell.
The boy keeping watch at the entrance checked the time. Exactly one minute. "Pull out," he called to the dreadlocked boy.
"CNM! I'm Bone from Red Three Street! I'll be back tomorrow. That gives you time to round up your men!"
Bone glanced at the lobby, where nobody dared stand, then brazenly pulled a blasting charge from his bag, lit it, and tossed it onto the ornate chandelier.
"Motherfuckers! If I can't afford your prices, I'll burn your place down!"
With the job done, the boys rushed out of the KTV like a gust of wind.
"Quick... somebody get over here! Someone's trashing the place! Don't let them escape!"
Seeing them flee, Captain Zhou pulled out his radio and shouted for backup.
Bang!
Before Captain Zhou could make more than a couple of calls, another shot rang out at the entrance, shattering the radio in his hand.
Weapon in hand, Bone had doubled back.
"You..."
Bone hauled the doorman off the floor and dragged him to the entrance. "CNM! Why didn't you tell us, 'Please come again'? You looking down on us?"
Ratatat!
Another boy, a cigarette clenched between his lips, fired a burst at the doorman's feet, frightening him so badly that yellow liquid streamed down his legs.
"Please... please... come again."
The doorman's voice shook with tears. "Fuck this. I quit. This is too fucking scary."
The boys exchanged glances, then jogged away, laughing in satisfaction.
Once across the street, Bone sprayed the KTV's sign with bullets. "CNM! Tell A Lang that if he's got a problem, he can round up his men and come fight me on Red Three Street!"
The boys ducked into an alley and vanished without a trace.
In the office on the top floor of the KTV.
A Lang groggily climbed out of bed as the knocking outside grew louder.
"Who is it?"
The two girls beside A Lang had just been through a grueling session and complained weakly, "What's the fucking rush?"
A Lang lit a cigarette and patted the woman beside him on the ass. "Be good. I'll go see what's happening."
He opened the door to find several of A Lang's trusted underlings drenched in sweat. "Boss, our place got trashed!"
"What the hell?" A Lang's mind froze for a moment before he recovered. "Which place?"
"This one!" the underling reported miserably. "That lunatic Old Ninth really sent people to stir up trouble! Young Master Duan's leg got broken, and three of our brothers are dead!"
A Lang looked utterly bewildered.
He had never expected Old Ninth to dare come. In his mind, who in the entire West Garden District would dare touch him?
Perhaps he had lived comfortably for so long that he had lost his sense of danger.
He knew perfectly well how unstable Old Ninth was, yet he had taken no precautions at all.
"How... how am I supposed to explain this to Boss Ding?"
Smack!
A Lang slapped the underling across the face. "Where are they? You didn't stop them?"
"They... they got away. They attacked people and ran. Before we could get our men together, they'd already ducked into an alley. The whole thing took less than two minutes," the underling explained, clutching his cheek.
In a fury, A Lang kicked him flying. "I don't want to hear your fucking stories! Round up the men! Send everyone out! You have to bring those bastards back! Go, now!"
First, two assassination attempts had failed. Now the target had come and trashed his own establishment.
A Lang hardly dared imagine Old Ding's expression when he found out.
Back in the room, A Lang stood at the window with his hands on his hips, breathing hard as he glared at the wreckage below.
"I'm fucking pissed right now. Get over here," A Lang called to the woman on the bed.
Half an hour later.
A Lang let out a long breath and silently lit a cigarette.
Ring, ring, ring!
His phone rang. When A Lang saw who was calling, his face turned sickly green.
"You've got the fucking nerve to call me?" A Lang roared.
On the other end, Old Ninth asked calmly, "Want to take me on?"
"What do you fucking think? Motherfucker, I'm killing you today." A Lang pressed down on the girl's head as he cursed.
"Look down," Old Ninth said mockingly.
A Lang looked down. Out on the street, Old Ninth stood with one hand in his pocket, watching him with interest.
Their eyes met, and A Lang nearly leaped straight down. Only after planting one foot on the windowsill did he realize he was stark naked.
"CNM! Flashing your dick before a fight? What the hell is wrong with you?" Old Ninth held up his thumb and forefinger toward A Lang, indicating a tiny gap. "Don't embarrass yourself by showing off something that short. Heard you're an Enhancement Type? Why don't you enhance your little buddy? Mine's longer than yours even when it's soft, little brother."
"Fuck your mother! You got the balls to come up here?"
Giving up on the phone, A Lang leaned out the window and unleashed a torrent of abuse.
Old Ninth gave a wicked smile, hung up, and walked straight toward the KTV.
At the entrance, an older woman was leading a group of girls in cleaning up the decorations Bone and his companions had smashed in the lobby and outside.
Still unaware of what was happening, the older woman hurried to stop Old Ninth when she saw him heading inside. "Sorry, young man. We're closed today."
Old Ninth's face darkened. "Do I look like someone who can afford this place?"
The girls exchanged bewildered looks.
If you're not here to spend money, what are you here for?
Old Ninth looked around and curled his lip. "Fucking rip-off merchants. Back on Red Three Street, I'd think two hundred a night was too much for girls like you."
"Ma'am, please step aside."
The boys behind Old Ninth pulled out their weapons.
The woman's eye twitched, shaking loose a fair amount of powder from her face. They had just been attacked, and now another group had arrived.
The other girls reacted much the same way and hurriedly cleared a path.
As Old Ninth passed one of the girls, he deliberately reached out and stroked her cheek.
"Three thousand for a touch. Put it on Brother Lang's tab."
"Another three thousand."
"Another three thousand."
His brothers followed his example.
The group swaggered into the lobby. All the thugs had gone out to chase Bone and his companions, leaving no security behind, only a few customers waiting for rides.
Seeing another wave of armed teenagers enter, plenty of seasoned customers simply lay down on the floor first.
The rich young man Bone had injured, in particular, curled up on the sofa and nearly burst into tears.
Old Ninth swept his gaze over them and bellowed, "CNM! We're closed today! Go home and play with yourselves! Anyone who stays is getting charged!"
There was a sudden rush.
Everyone in the lobby covered their heads and bolted outside.
Every one of these customers was worth a fortune. Who wanted to tangle with a bunch of desperadoes?
"I'm going up to have a go at this Brother Lang. Guard the place down here. Until I come back, don't let anyone in, not even the mayor. Anyone tries, open fire." Old Ninth pressed the elevator button.
"Got it, bro."
The boys nodded, then crouched behind the reception counter and set up their guns.
The elevator slowly rose.
Standing outside the elevator in nothing but shorts, A Lang gripped a machete, poised for battle as he waited for Old Ninth to appear.
The elevator doors slowly slid open, and A Lang tightened his grip on the blade.
"CNM! Let's see how many lives you've got today..."
With the doors only halfway open, A Lang roared and lunged into the elevator.
"Where... where is he?"
A Lang stared dumbly at the blasting charge burning inside the elevator.
"Looking for me?"
Old Ninth appeared at the far end of the corridor. "I'm too used to being a country bumpkin. Don't like taking elevators."
"Fuck your mother!"
Boom!
The enormous blast hurled A Lang straight out of the elevator.
Before you continue