Scarface was furious.
He felt like he'd been played.
Originally, if he hadn't harbored ambitions for the gang's leadership position, it wouldn't have mattered whether he recruited followers or not. But now, Er Kun had thoroughly stoked the flames of his ambition.
Once a man's desires are ignited, they aren't so easily extinguished.
Under Er Kun's encouragement, Scarface convinced himself that to claim the gang's leadership, he needed to gather more followers and expand his influence—otherwise, he'd never command respect within the organization.
So, he reached out to Qiao Yong again, intending to bring him and his crew under his wing. But who would've thought Qiao Yong would double-cross him, refusing to acknowledge his authority and instead aligning himself with another boss?
"Qiao Yong, do you realize you're making an enemy of the Yi Lian Society?"
"Scarface, I’ll give you the courtesy of calling you 'brother,' but let’s be real—without Boss Pan’s backing, who in the gang would even look your way?"
Now that he was under Wang Shi, Qiao Yong was effectively part of the White Tiger Hall.
Wang Shi outranked Scarface and was leagues ahead in power—why should he bother humoring some spineless coward who nearly groveled to a woman?
Sure, he had knelt too, but that was different—he’d had no choice unless he wanted to meet his ancestors early.
"Xie Dong, and all you bosses here today, let me make one thing clear."
Qiao Yong’s gaze swept over Xie Dong and the others. "Who runs the university district now? The Ten Thousand Dragons! Why should that bitch Liu Yutong from Finance University lord it over us?"
Xie Dong narrowed his eyes. "What are you suggesting, Yong?"
"Xiao Bin was too soft to play this game, but that’s no surprise—those tech college guys are all keyboard warriors with no backbone!"
"But we’re different. If you follow me—follow Boss Shi—we’ll crush the Ten Thousand Dragons and grind that bitch Liu Yutong under our heels!"
"Not just that—I’ll make sure each of you pulls in at least this much every month." Qiao Yong held up ten fingers.
Xie Dong and the other gang leaders stiffened. "Ten thousand?"
"Damn right."
At that confirmation, the former campus bosses and small-time leaders lit up with greed.
In this day and age, ten grand a month was serious money. Normally, they scraped together half that from protection rackets and gigs, and after splitting it with their crews, they barely pocketed a few thousand.
But Qiao Yong was promising ten. Of course they were tempted.
And they believed he could deliver—just look at his underground casino. That had to be raking in cash.
Honestly, when they first heard about it, they’d been green with envy. This was way better than the grunt work they were used to.
"Yong, you’re saying you’ll give us these gambling machines?"
"If you hook me up, I’m in."
"Me too!"
Qiao Yong shook his head. "I won’t be handing out machines. But I’ve got something even more profitable."
He pulled a small bag of colorful pills from his pocket and tossed it onto the table.
The room fell silent.
"What’s this?" someone finally asked.
"Something good," Qiao Yong smirked. "Try it. Guaranteed to hit harder than anything you’ve had. And demand? Sky-high."
They all knew what he meant.
Selling this stuff could land you in front of a firing squad.
This bastard had balls of steel.
But ten grand a month… the temptation was real.
"Now that you’ve seen it, there’s no backing out," Qiao Yong’s tone turned icy. "Either we all get rich, or..."
On cue, twenty-odd thugs stood, weapons in hand, glowering at the group.
Xie Dong and the others paled.
They were trapped.
Qiao Yong softened his voice. "Relax. We’ve got protection. Even if you get picked up, as long as you keep your mouths shut, we’ll get you out."
That eased some tension. They could guess anyone running this operation had serious backing.
Scarface could only watch helplessly as Qiao Yong recruited his new followers, seething with humiliation. "Let’s go," he growled through clenched teeth.
But as he turned to leave, Qiao Yong blocked him. "Hold on, Scarface. You lost about twenty grand here today. Pay up first."
Scarface exploded. "You fucking dare scam me?!"
In all his years in the underworld, the only time he’d ever been humiliated was by Liu Yutong—and he’d accepted that because she was the boss’s daughter and ruthless as hell.
But some two-bit campus thug trying to step on him? Unacceptable.
"Qiao Yong, I swear I’ll kill you. Don’t think that mutt Wang Shi can protect you!" Scarface had always clashed with Wang Shi, hence the insult—"mutt" for "shit."
Of course, the only reason Wang Shi hadn’t retaliated was Scarface’s favor with Boss Pan.
Qiao Yong sneered, then turned to Xie Dong’s group. "You want in? Here’s your initiation—beat Scarface down. Otherwise, none of you walk out."
The color drained from their faces. Attacking a Yi Lian Society member—and Boss Pan’s right-hand man? That was suicide.
"Relax," Qiao Yong said smoothly. "Boss Shi’s been waiting to deal with him. Cross him, and there’s no happy ending. Do this, and he’ll cover you."
Gritting their teeth, they closed in.
"Scarface… sorry. We’ve got no choice."
Just then—
Er Kun stepped between them. "Touch him, and I’ll make sure you leave in a body bag."
Scarface looked at Er Kun, heart swelling with gratitude. In the end, it was Er Kun who had his back. Bringing him from Wushui County had been the best decision he’d ever made.
If he could secure the position of hall master, he would surely promote him heavily and even pass down his ultimate technique of catching a blade barehanded without reservation.
"Hmph, seems like your eyesight’s failing—can’t even count heads properly? Today, with so many brothers here, let’s see who’s leaving flat on their back—"
Before Qiao Yong could finish, a deafening crash erupted at the entrance.
BANG!
The flimsy plywood decoy door exploded into splinters.
Then, a crisp female voice blared through a megaphone: "Sister Hui’s here! Nobody moves—hands on your heads, now!"
