Chapter Seven: No One Believes

Fifteen unconscious men, including Xiang Biao, were finally tossed by Garuru onto two vans and left unattended. Wu You had no concerns that they might attempt a comeback. As for calling the police, none of them had actually lost their lives; if they reported the incident, their own armed trespass into a private home would be exposed first.

Even if, in the worst-case scenario, they did call the police, would the authorities believe them? Wu You only needed to send Garuru into the Beast Pen space, and the police would find no trace of the so-called lion monster they described.

However, early the next morning, the police did indeed arrive—this time, called by the villagers.

The villagers had been badly frightened the previous night; in the dead of night, they heard a thunderous beast’s roar, something like a tiger or a lion, followed by a human’s desperate scream. Yet no one dared venture out to investigate, and thankfully, no further sounds followed.

The next morning, some villagers, still uneasy, reported to the police that there might be a large wild animal in the village, and perhaps someone had been hurt.

Police from the district station came and searched the village and its surroundings, taking a headcount of the residents. They found neither any so-called wild beast nor any injured villager, and soon left.

As for the two vans, those inside began to wake before dawn and drove away from the village as if fleeing for their lives.

...

With a heavy smack on the coffee-colored desk, a palm landed hard.

"Useless fools!"

In the general manager’s office of Shengtian Group’s Qiantang branch, Liu Weiliang was yelling furiously at his assistant general manager, Zhong Guanglai.

"A single plot, a small hill, and you’ve burned through tens of millions of company funds, wasted more than half a year, and it’s still unresolved!"

Zhong Guanglai was drenched in sweat, not daring to utter a word of protest, though inwardly he seethed with resentment.

If it weren’t for you, Old Liu, scheming to pocket the remaining five million from the demolition budget, would things have gotten so out of hand? What’s five million compared to the half-year value of the company’s new project?

Zhong Guanglai had little respect for Liu Weiliang, whose nickname, “Liu Three-Axes,” spoke volumes—like a crude bandit, his methods were threats, bribery, and shady tricks. That someone like him could become the branch general manager of a giant like Shengtian Group was either a sign of blindness from headquarters or proof that the rumors were true.

Shengtian’s upper echelons had indeed built their empire through the underworld, only whitewashing their image in recent years, so it was no surprise that some old scoundrels still held high positions.

"Has that coward Xiang Biao woken up yet?" Liu Weiliang’s question snapped Zhong Guanglai out of his thoughts.

"He has, but like the others, he’s delirious, not quite right in the head."

Liu Weiliang frowned, "He’s also rambling about monsters?"

"Yes, says they encountered a man-eating monster—a lion spirit." Zhong Guanglai replied with a wry smile.

Liu Weiliang pondered deeply.

Who was meddling in his affairs, which rival from the underworld could it be? All fifteen men bore injuries of varying severity—Xiang Biao had a broken right leg, five others had perforated eardrums, and several had claw-like wounds across their faces.

Liu Weiliang tried it with his own hand—the marks matched the sweep of a palm’s claws across the face, only the hand that made those wounds must have been much larger, with long, sharp nails.

But as for the talk of a man-eating monster, he dismissed it outright, suspecting instead some rival’s handiwork.

What a joke—if it had been a real monster, would all fifteen have survived?

Shengtian Group, with its sprawling interests, had plenty of competitors—enough to match its own strength.

...

After a day’s rest and recovery, many began to doubt whether they’d hallucinated or dreamed the whole ordeal, or perhaps their rivals had worn masks or disguises.

Only Xiang Biao and two or three others insisted it had been a monster—a lion spirit.

Liu Weiliang was thoroughly disappointed in Xiang Biao. He’d once thought the man had his own youthful vigor—daring, resourceful, unafraid to fight. He hadn’t expected such cowardice.

Returning from the hospital to his office, still without a clue about his adversary, Liu Weiliang grew increasingly irritable.

Now, the “Natural Paradise Club” project was unavoidably stalled. The few stubborn old bones of the Wu family were impervious to threats or bribes. Liu had even gone so far as to arrange a staged car accident, but failed to break their resolve.

But he’d never spit out that five million. Despite his outward success, Liu Weiliang’s finances were in dire straits, gambling debts at Macao’s casinos piling high. If not for the Shengtian Group’s protection, debt collectors would have come for him long ago.

So, starting last year, Liu Weiliang had repeatedly dipped into public funds and shady deals.

The Xugou Village demolition could become a major scandal; if headquarters got involved, his string of problems would be exposed. There were plenty at HQ who disliked him, especially the chairman’s daughter, Fan Tiantian.

Since she’d begun helping her father manage the company, she’d systematically forced out the old underworld types—either into early retirement or by gradually sidelining them. Her methods were many, and she seemed determined to completely clean up Shengtian’s image. If she caught him in a scandal, Liu Weiliang could already imagine his fate.

Just thinking of Fan Tiantian’s striking figure sent a rush of heat through him. He called his secretary in and, drawing the blinds, lost himself in office debauchery.

...

In the inpatient wing of Qiantang Second Hospital, Xiang Biao hobbled on crutches to the room where Huazi and Wang Dong were recovering.

Wang Dong had only suffered a mild concussion; the tests showed nothing serious, and he could be discharged anytime, but he planned to stay longer. He was simply too afraid his boss would send him after the Wu family again.

Huazi was in far worse shape—cracked ribs, internal bleeding, every movement was agony, but his life wasn’t in danger.

When Xiang Biao entered, the two greeted him, "Brother Biao."

Xiang Biao waved a hand dismissively and carefully sat on the chair by Huazi’s bed.

"Huazi, do you think there really are gods and monsters in this world?"

In the past, Xiang Biao had always scoffed at Huazi’s superstitious notions, but after the previous night, the world suddenly seemed unfamiliar. Perhaps his lifelong disbelief in gods and spirits had been a grave mistake.

"Brother Biao, I’ve never seen gods, but as for monsters, who could know them better than us?" Huazi replied with lingering fear.

Wang Dong, his head now wrapped in gauze and his crew cut shaved off, nodded in agreement. "Brother Biao, I think with all the bad things we’ve done these years, maybe it’s time to wash our hands of it all."

Xiang Biao opened his mouth, hesitated, and sighed deeply.

"Yes, you all passed out before the end, so you didn’t see. When Liu Weiliang came to question me, I didn’t tell him everything either.

Actually, at the end, I saw the Wu family’s young man open the door. He just looked at me calmly, as if I were a blade of grass by the roadside. In that moment, I understood—his connection with that monster is anything but ordinary. Hah, Shengtian? If you offend the spirits, there’s no good future in that!"

With that, Xiang Biao tremblingly fished out a pack of cigarettes.

"Smoke?"

Wang Dong and Huazi hesitated, then nodded.

Xiang Biao tossed one to Wang Dong, then placed one in Huazi’s mouth himself and lit it for him.

The three sat smoking in silence, each secretly resolving to do more good deeds from now on. Reflecting on their past actions, they had never caused any great disasters, but the label “scoundrel” fit them well.

After finishing his cigarette, Wang Dong suddenly blurted out, "Do you think the Wu family will let us go?"

Huazi and Xiang Biao both froze. After a moment, Xiang Biao replied uncertainly, "They probably won’t hold us accountable. What happened to his father had nothing to do with us..."

He slapped his left leg. "No, we need to mend our relationship with Wu Jianguo’s son. Who knows—this could be our opportunity! What’s his name again?"

"Wu You—You, as in ‘worry’," Huazi quickly answered.