In front of the Zhannan District Sanitation Bureau, a low-level supervisor from the Bai Corporation was walking south with four of his men, heading home after a long day.
"Hey, Lao Li!" someone called from across the street.
He turned and saw a mid-tier boss from the Kong family waving at him.
"What's up, Daming?"
"Ha, nothing much. What are you guys up to later?" The Kong man crossed the street with two of his men, his tone casual.
"Done for the day. Going to eat and crash," the Bai man replied.
"Let's grab a drink."
"You buying?"
"Sure, my treat."
"Then let's go—free booze's the best kind."
The two groups—eight men in total—joined up and began walking toward a small restaurant down Sihai Street.
As they strolled, one of the Bai men asked, "Hey Daming, you think this whole thing we're doing is gonna work?"
"Who the hell knows," Daming said with a shrug. "But Changqing Company's been pushing too far lately. Not only are they trying to steal our contract zones, now they want to kick us out completely and snatch our worker registrations. That's some serious bullshit. Whatever—company says jump, we jump. As long as they pay, I don't care."
"True that. Money talks, haha."
They laughed as they walked another hundred meters.
Then—
Screech!
A beat-up SUV jerked to a stop right next to them, barely five meters away.
The doors flew open, and five men climbed out—all in their thirties, dressed in loud floral shirts and beach shorts.
"Li Gang! He Daming!" the one in front shouted.
"Who the hell are you?" Daming frowned and turned.
Before he could react, four of the floral-shirt men surged forward, each grabbing one of the Bai and Kong leaders by the neck.
"Relax," one of them said with a grin. "We just want to have a little chat."
"I don't even know you!"
"Well, then let me introduce myself properly."
A burly man yanked a sharpened steel pipe from his waistband and jammed the pointed end against Daming's stomach. "Do you know me now?"
Daming instinctively tried to break free—
Thunk!
The man drove the pipe straight into his abdomen. Blood gushed from the hollow tube.
The others froze for a heartbeat, then started forward—but the leader of the floral-shirt crew flipped open his jacket, revealing the grip of a handgun. His tone was icy calm:
"Anyone moves, and you're dead. Got it? Stay the fuck where you are."
Even in chaotic Dragon City, gun control was brutal. Anyone caught owning or trafficking firearms faced a minimum of ten years, sometimes even execution. Too many here had served on the front lines—if guns got out of hand, the whole city would burn within a week.
So when they saw the gun, everyone froze.
Half a minute later, both He Daming and Li Gang lay sprawled in a spreading pool of blood. The cracks between the pavement bricks ran red. People had gathered, but no one dared to intervene. A few trembling hands held up phones to call the police.
Li Gang, drenched in blood, gasped weakly: "Brothers… please… stop… I was wrong… I give up…"
"You weren't so quiet before, huh?" one attacker snarled. "Didn't you refuse to work?!"
"Some dogs only learn when they've been beaten!"
They kept swinging, ignoring the pleas. The leader, who had been watching silently, finally lost patience.
"Move aside."
He reached into the car and pulled out a sledgehammer, its steel head gleaming under the streetlight.
"You think a few punches teach 'em fear?" he said coldly. "You want them to learn? Make them feel it."
The others stepped aside.
The leader raised the hammer with both hands and brought it down.
CRACK—CRUNCH!
Screams tore through the night. Both Daming and Li Gang passed out from pain, their limbs smashed to pulp.
The onlookers stood frozen, goosebumps crawling over their skin.
Panting, the man rested the hammer on his shoulder. "See that? That's how you make people listen. You beat the lesson into them. Understand?"
The six remaining workers stood rooted to the spot, not daring to breathe.
The man pointed toward the sanitation office sign across the street. "See what it says there? No loud noise allowed. We follow the organization's rules, right? So keep your damn mouths shut. If anyone disturbs me again—" He tapped the hammer handle against his palm. "—I'll be back. Got it?"
They all nodded like puppets.
"Good. Let's roll."
He slung the sledgehammer over his shoulder, climbed back into the SUV, and the group sped off.
Across the street, in a black business van, Lu Feng sat cross-legged, yawning.
"Spread the word," he said lazily. "Anyone who won't work, or tries to play both sides with the other four companies—I'll crush him. But if they play ball, maybe I'll still throw them some work."
"Got it, Brother Feng." The driver started the engine, and the van slipped away into the night.
Ten minutes later, Zhannan District police arrived, but the injured had already been carried to the hospital.
Meanwhile, at the Kong family compound, Kong Zhenghui received the news. He wasn't surprised.
"Good," he said flatly. "Looks like Changqing's finally losing its patience. Go to the hospital and handle it… no, forget it—I'll go myself."
At the Su family scrapyard, Su Tianyu and his third sister had been staying for two days, waiting.
That evening, after dinner, Tianyu went upstairs to use the bathroom—but something caught his eye.
The big, stuttering man everyone called "Iron Tower" was standing just outside the third sister's window, peering in.
Tianyu stepped quietly behind him, following his gaze—and sure enough, inside the room hung a line of drying clothes, including a few pairs of women's underwear.
Tianyu's expression twisted.
"Jesus Christ… the guy's a damn perv," he muttered under his breath.