Chapter 39: Look at These Nine Flying Daggers!

Before arriving in Hong Kong, Liu Haizhu truly held the so-called local gangsters and thugs in contempt. He believed he was second to none, and that if there was something to be done, he would simply do it.

However, ever since that encounter in the Dongsheng Hall where he crossed paths with A-Gang, he stopped thinking that way.

Among those present that day, at least two individuals possessed an aura that left him feeling uneasy: Air Force Hua, whose muscles looked as if they were cast from steel, and Situ Sang, who radiated a chilling, gloomy presence.

But the one he found most inscrutable was the young man in black named A-Nan, who had saved him in Portland Street that day. Not only was the fellow’s appearance no less impressive than his own, but his combat skills were something that even he found baffling.

In the warehouse, Ding Zhiwei enthusiastically presented one piece after another of his favorite collection, spraying saliva as he introduced them:

"Look at this blade, forged from Tianshan cold iron; it was used by the former hall master, Crow. It cuts through iron without a sound!"

"Look at this spiked mace, refined from solid steel plates; it’s unstoppable, capable of splitting mountains and shattering stone!"

"Look at these nine throwing knives—oh, never mind, you probably wouldn't know how to use them..."

"Look at this Tang dao, weighing over eighty pounds. A normal person couldn't even lift it with both hands, yet this edge is menacingly sharp!"

"Look at this..."

Every time Ding Zhiwei recommended a weapon, Liu Haizhu would take it in hand and give it a serious swing, yet not a single one satisfied him. The man’s brows furrowed deeper and deeper. As he picked his way along the path, he finally found the most massive, heavy-duty nine-ring broadsword. He reached out and picked it up, but it clattered and jingled in his grip; he tried it out and set it down again.

"What's wrong?" Ding Zhiwei asked, feeling reluctant. He stepped forward and grabbed the nine-ring broadsword himself... damn, it was too heavy to even wield.

The guy shot him a sideways glance: "This thing is too light. It doesn't feel right."

Ding Zhiwei’s mouth twitched. At that moment, he wanted to curse. *You bastard, can you be any more pretentious?*

Liu Haizhu grinned: "Do you have anything else?"

Ding Zhiwei gritted his teeth and shook his head: "No!"

"Heh," the man gave him a smile with a teasing expression. Having spent so many years in the underworld, Ding Zhiwei could see right through what this guy was thinking. Rolling his eyes, he suddenly brightened and pointed ahead. He gestured toward the Green Dragon Crescent Blade held by the three-meter-tall statue of Guan Gong and shouted, his voice cracking: "That thing is heavy, go try that."

"Heh."

Liu Haizhu was instantly amused. Without wasting any more words, he strode forward and pulled it straight out of the statue's hands.

*Clang!*

With a crisp ring of steel, Liu Haizhu swung the nearly two-meter-long Guan blade, his expression calm yet fierce! The wind from the blade was so strong that even Ding Zhiwei, standing five meters away, felt a painful sting on his face.

"Fuck, is this guy even human?!"

A few minutes later, as Ding Zhiwei stood there questioning reality, the man performed a full sequence of chopping, slashing, and thrusting. As the blade edge sliced through the air, it actually emitted a piercing sound! Once the sequence was finished, a light sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"Refreshing!"

Liu Haizhu let out a shout, held the blade with one hand, and looked at Zhiwei with a smile, saying nothing.

"...What is it?" Ding Zhiwei frowned and stepped forward, his tone slightly impatient. "Is this still not good enough?!"

Actually, that wasn't it. Since coming to Hong Kong, this man had already claimed several lives. Yet, for some reason, he still felt a deep resistance in his heart.

*Heh.* Such a heavy blade, just holding it in his hand felt bone-chilling. If he were to really use this to kill, how many people would die? And there was no grudge or hatred between them—was it really necessary?

Liu Haizhu looked at the giant blade and grinned: "It’s not that it's bad; it’s just that I’m not used to it."

Ding Zhiwei: "…!"

He remained silent for a full ten seconds, his tone turning somewhat deflated: "That’s all I have here. Do what you will."

"How about this," Liu Haizhu hooked his arm around his shoulder and said with a laugh, "let’s talk shop. Do you have a blacksmith shop here?"

Ding Zhiwei struggled but couldn't break free, becoming a bit agitated: "What are you trying to do?"

Liu Haizhu squinted and smiled: "It’s like this..."

After listening, Ding Zhiwei was shocked: "Will that work?"

The man raised his eyebrows: "It’ll definitely work!"

"Fine," Ding Zhiwei felt that if he had to deal with this wild card, he should be thanking his ancestors for eight generations!

"Right," Liu Haizhu suddenly asked, "who is the best fighter among you?"

Ding Zhiwei didn't hesitate: "Uncle Luo!"

"What, Luo Bingrun?!" Liu Haizhu blinked in disbelief: "That can't be right, can it?!"

Ding Zhiwei took out a cigarette and fell into deep thought. Gradually, the cigarette burned down to the filter, scorching his lip, until he let out an "Ow!" and flicked the butt away. Regarding this kid in front of him—who showed no respect for seniority and repeatedly addressed the boss by his full name—Zhiwei indicated that he was already used to it.

After recovering, Ding Zhiwei said, sounding troubled: "Let’s not talk about that. By five o'clock this afternoon at the latest, I will have the men ready for you!"

"Also, Broken-Finger Song and Old Dog Ming will be mixed in with the fighters to join you tonight."

Liu Haizhu nodded: "I appreciate the effort."

Ding Zhiwei glanced at him: "Just make sure you survive to tell the tale."

Liu Haizhu thought for a moment: "That..."

Ding Zhiwei suddenly snapped, jumped into his car, and started the engine. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, nearly burying it in the fuel tank, terrified that if he stayed a moment longer, he would have a heart attack. Watching the tires kick up white smoke, Liu Haizhu chased after him for two steps: "You bastard, you should at least give me a ride back! Do you have any idea how expensive taxis are?"

Night, 23:00.

Dark clouds obscured the sky. Faint starlight filtered through the gaps in the clouds, leaving everything in deep darkness.

Tuen Mun, in the plaza in front of the Queen’s Bar.

Opposite this place was a large shopping mall, adjacent to the HSBC Bank. During the day, it was bustling with noise and constant traffic. Usually, once night fell, the square was packed with lion dance troupes, square dancers, and couples on dates.

Knowing that Dongsheng was conducting business today, members of the organization had arrived early to clear the area. At almost every intersection, Dongsheng’s foot soldiers and enforcers were stationed, forbidding unauthorized individuals from entering.

Even so, it couldn't stop the people of Hong Kong from wanting to watch the spectacle. The residents in the surrounding high-rises had stopped watching TV tonight; one by one, they stretched their necks out of their windows to peer down at the scene.

On the steps, several tables and chairs were set up in prominent positions. Sitting there were the overlords of Hong Kong: Dragon Wind and Xin Yi from the Kowloon Walled City, the heads of the Dongsheng Society, Luo Bingrun and Uncle Ben, the boss of Hong Le, Jiang Tiansheng and Chen Yao, Ye Jihuan and "Bat-Mouse" Hu Jishu from the Big Circle Gang, and finally, Uncle Deng, Fatty Hua, and Old Ghost En from Wo Lingsheng.

As the time approached twelve, all the major figures had arrived.

On the left side was the group from the big bosses of the Kowloon Walled City, who were currently setting up a betting pool for the odds of tonight's outcome.