"Bao... Bao Ge?"
"I... I must be hearing things, right?"
Whether Liu Debao himself was hallucinating or not was unclear, but Lai Pihou, his buddies, and his old flame were all convinced they must be seeing things.
Who would’ve thought that this seemingly simple, country-bumpkin-looking guy would be addressed as "Ge" by a bunch of hardened gangsters?
The world had truly gone mad.
They must’ve drunk some bad liquor—that had to be it. Hallucinations, plain and simple.
"Ugh, my head’s spinning. That fake booze hits hard—I think I’m gonna puke."
"Yeah, yeah, my stomach’s churning too... uh... I gotta hit the bathroom first..."
"My grandma used to say... if you see something you shouldn’t, play blind. If you hear something you shouldn’t, play deaf. Right now, I’m blind, deaf, and my legs are jelly—must be terminal. Get me to a hospital, quick."
"I’ll take you."
"..."
They clung to each other, cautiously inching toward the exit.
Lai Pihou took it to another level, crawling on the floor like a worm, squirming bit by bit toward the door.
Ma Da and his crew couldn’t help but laugh.
Gotta admit, it was spot-on.
Just as they painstakingly reached the entrance, they realized the door was locked from the inside—and they were the ones who’d locked it.
Lai Pihou slapped himself in frustration, then he and his gang, along with his old flame, slowly shuffled back.
Eyes darting nervously at the Dragon Society members, they reached for the keys on the counter.
"Grab... grab the keys. Need 'em to open the door..."
Keys in hand, they finally unlocked the door.
But strangely, not a single Dragon Society member moved. They just watched, letting them fumble with the lock, ready to bolt.
By now, Liu Debao had snapped out of his daze.
He wondered—why were these gangsters calling him "Ge"?
He’d barely left his rural village except for a few trips to the county town. No way he had any ties to these underworld types.
Unless... he naturally exuded an aura of dominance, the makings of a leader? Maybe they’d mistaken him for someone else?
Honestly, that wasn’t entirely impossible.
Liu Debao recalled his standoffs with the vicious dogs back in the village. The moment he bared his teeth, those yapping mutts would scatter in terror.
(Of course, the fact that he was wielding a sickle over a meter long had absolutely nothing to do with it.)
After some mental gymnastics, he mustered a bit of confidence and deliberately asked, "So... what’s our organization called? Wait, no—what’s my rank here? Am I the boss?"
He had no clue what gang this was, but he couldn’t ask outright—that’d blow his cover. So he rephrased it.
Ma Da answered with utmost seriousness, "You got nothing."
"What do you mean?"
"No seat!"
"???"
Meanwhile.
Lai Pihou and his crew pushed open the door, relieved to see no Dragon Society members chasing after them.
If they could fly out of there, they wouldn’t even bother running.
But their grins froze the second they saw what awaited them outside.
A sharp inhale later, their blood ran cold.
The entrance was packed with rows of black-clad young men.
And standing at the forefront was a young woman.
Tall and poised, she wore a fitted black trench coat, her hair tied high in a simple ponytail. Her porcelain face was cool as jade, her gaze icy and unreadable.
When she lifted her eyes slightly to look at them, even the air seemed to still.
"Leaving so soon... without your money?"
