Chapter 38: So You All Want to Drink My Blood, Is That It?

While Feng Mu was busy digging a pit to bury a corpse and shift the blame, Ma Bin was not idling after hanging up the phone.

He first recorded all the items demanded by the extortionist in his notebook. He was a man of extreme caution; even though he had no intention of keeping his word and planned to double-cross the blackmailer and silence him, he would still prepare everything as requested.

Staring at the notebook for a moment, Ma Bin’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Non-sequential cash and melted gold, I can understand those. But why ask for black cores?"

Ma Bin didn't know much about black cores, but he had heard they were the foul residues left behind after burning Calamity Corpses. He frowned. "I've never heard of this stuff having any special value."

Though doubtful, Ma Bin figured that since the man spoke with such certainty about a black market for hoarding them, he would simply send his lackey to scout for some.

"A hundred pounds is quite a lot. Is it related to some evil ritual, or perhaps..." Ma Bin’s mind was sharp; he immediately associated this with the smashed-up evil altar in the school warehouse. He made a mental note of it, deciding to investigate the secret of the black cores once the current situation was resolved.

"So," Ma Bin mused, "his encounter with the two punks wasn't entirely a coincidence, yet it wasn't strictly planned either."

He picked up the suspect list and glanced at Feng Mu’s file, which clearly stated that after dropping out of school, Feng Mu had joined the crematorium to burn Calamity Corpses.

"The two punks were tailing Feng Mu, which is why they were near the crematorium. The real killer, likely wanting to acquire black cores, was also in the vicinity. It's even possible the killer has bought black cores from the crematorium workers before. By chance, the punks' actions caught the killer's eye. He must have guessed something, called me, and posed as Feng Mu on a whim—which explains why the lie was so clumsy."

Ma Bin connected the threads. He now suspected that if he had Feng Mu dragged back to the gang for interrogation, he might be able to extract the killer's features directly. Of course, he didn't suspect Feng Mu of being involved; he just felt the killer had likely dealt with Feng Mu, who might have seen the killer's true face.

The moment this thought crossed his mind, Ma Bin immediately extinguished it.

"I cannot touch Feng Mu. After the two punks died, I shouldn't send anyone else either, lest the killer suspect I’m investigating him and be driven to desperation." Ma Bin was deeply paranoid. He projected his own mindset onto the killer, believing the murderer was likely watching Feng Mu from the shadows to indirectly observe Ma Bin’s own actions—to verify if he was keeping his word and not digging into the killer's identity.

"So, the name 'Feng Mu' was also a bait deliberately thrown by the killer, a test." Ma Bin’s thoughts raced, and he sneered, "What an insidious fellow."

With that, Ma Bin took his pen and crossed Feng Mu’s name off the list of suspects.

He licked his dry lips, thinking deviously, "There are fifty names left on the list anyway. That’s more than enough to irritate the police station. Crossing one family member of a cop off won't hurt; it’s just a little less fuel, but the fire will still burn bright."

The only problem was the original plan: he had intended to wait seven days before provoking Boss Zheng into lighting this fire himself. He had already laid the groundwork. Once Boss Zheng’s deadline arrived, he would go to "plead guilty," claiming he couldn't find the killer but had narrowed it down to a list of fifty people. He would then play the victim, shifting the blame onto Li Shang, the deputy captain of the police, claiming constant obstruction and warnings from him.

Then, with a bit of embellishment, Boss Zheng—stimulated by alcohol—would inevitably lose control and frantically order his men to round up everyone on the list for interrogation, using the most primitive methods to drag out the killer of his son.

At that point, Boss Zheng would be digging his own grave, and Ma Bin could incite the humiliated and equally furious Li Shang into a dog-eat-dog struggle with the gang leader. The outcome would be Boss Zheng’s miserable death, forcing Ma Bin to step up, clean up the mess, take power, and use Zheng’s death to build a deeper "friendship" with Li Shang.

While he might suffer some physical pain on the day he "pleaded guilty," the rewards far outweighed the cost. Ma Bin felt his plan was airtight, with every major player dancing to his script.

He never expected the killer—an outsider—to barge in uninvited and completely disrupt his layout. In his scheme, the killer was supposed to be a minor background prop, a pretext to set the stage. How did he suddenly decide to act like a main character and jump onto the stage to perform?

Ma Bin grew angrier the more he thought about it. Being forced to rewrite a script mid-performance was a massive headache; the entire pace of the play had to be accelerated.

Could he move the entire plan forward by seven days? Ma Bin wasn't that stupid. If you serve a stew before the ingredients have simmered long enough, it won't taste right. It was like the difference between needing the toilet and rushing to it prematurely; based on his understanding of Boss Zheng, the man was still rational despite his outward rage. He wasn't at the point of true, uncontrollable madness—not yet.

"It will likely take another week of simmering," he thought. Unfortunately, the killer’s intrusion meant he couldn't wait for the situation to ferment further. He had to serve the soup early. Otherwise, he feared someone else might just lift the lid off the pot for him.

"Well, so be it. No use dwelling on it. Once the arrow is loosed, there's no turning back. I'll just have to use someone else’s mouth to issue the order to kidnap those fifty people to Boss Zheng and the gang."

Ma Bin suppressed his irritability and calmly devised a solution. Though he had failed the entrance exams and his martial arts aptitude was abysmal, his academic grades were good, and he had always loved to read. He knew his intended action was what the ancients called "forging an imperial decree."

"And the person to forge that decree has long been placed by Boss Zheng’s side, hasn't he?" he muttered to himself, letting out a cold, vicious laugh.

Of course, not today. Today was too rushed. He needed at least two days for final preparations.

*Knock, knock, knock.*

"Brother Bin, that deputy captain from the police station, Li Shang, is here again." His trusted subordinate, Qian Hao, walked in with a dark expression.

Ma Bin’s face darkened as well. His suppressed emotions flared up again. He sneered, "They all want to eat the flesh and drink the blood of the Green Wolf Gang. One is a one-time deal, hacking away at us, while the other is a daily bleed, treating us like a long-term meal ticket."

Qian Hao shared his indignation but was confused. "What do you mean? Why is there another one?"

"So, my plotting to rise to the top is just to feed two jackals, and I’m just here for the empty title?" Ma Bin’s heart was bleeding, but for the sake of the future, he forced a smile.

Greed was good. Only when they were all greedy could he tempt them to tear each other apart, allowing him to be the one holding the knife to carve the meat.

Ma Bin smiled as he went to meet Li Shang. Before leaving, he instructed Qian Hao, "Go to the black market and find me a merchant who deals in black cores. If you find one..."

Ma Bin stuffed a bank card into Qian Hao’s hand, patted the short blade hidden at the man’s waist, and whispered a few instructions in his ear.