Chapter 134 Two Faces
"I..." Unsettling thoughts crept into my mind, and for a moment, I found myself doubting Boss Rong.
"How could you possibly get a hold of a knife right after being released?" Boss Tong took the knife from my hand, scrutinizing it. "This blade has been meticulously sharpened, it’s sharp enough to kill. But that lan-joeng never imagined you’d be so foolish as to actually use this knife to take your own life."
I didn’t understand what Boss Tong was implying, but I knew he wasn’t saying anything good. He was wrongfully accusing Boss Rong.
"A'Jin, there is a way to settle everything with that gambling addict Rong and wipe the slate clean." He waved his hand, signaling for the men who were holding me down to disperse.
I straightened my back, stretched my limbs, and asked, "What is it?"
"You do the work for me, I’ll keep your belly full."
When he saw I didn’t respond, Boss Tong continued, "I can also have you learn boxing. You’ve got a criminal record, so you can’t go pro, but I can get you into an underground fight club. Everything that gambling addict Rong could offer, I can offer too. Stay with me, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of."
I paused for a moment, taken aback. "Boss Tong, I’m just a useless man. Can I really be worth two million?"
That was when I finally thought I understood. So the plane ticket earlier really was Boss Tong’s idea—not only did he not want me dead, he actually wanted to recruit me.
"You’ve been in prison for four years, and I’ve made sure everything’s taken care of for you," Boss Tong said, his voice as deep as the smoke curling from his cigarette. "Over all these years, no one’s ever made things difficult for you, right?"
That was true, no one had bothered me in the past four years.
"Boss Tong..." I bowed deeply. "I’m honored by your favor, but my godfather is Boss Rong. As long as he’s still around, I can’t serve anyone else."
Boss Tong fell silent, and this silence dragged on for what felt like an eternity.
Slowly, he rose to his feet—his height barely reaching my shoulder, yet his presence was so overpowering that I couldn’t help but feel the weight of it.
"A'Jin, I think I’ve given you enough face."
"Yes," I nodded. "I’ll never forget the great kindness you’ve shown me, Boss Tong. But I’ve always considered Boss Rong like a father. With something this big happening to him, I can’t just turn my back on him."
"Punk, you’ve got guts." Boss Tong raised his hand and struck my face twice, the impact sharp and painful.
Between him and me stood Boss Rong, so how could I ever consider him my godfather?
Boss Tong lingered for a moment by my side before turning and walking toward the window, gazing out at the view.
I could never quite figure out this man’s thoughts. "Boss Tong... what’s the whole story with that two million?"
At the sound of my question, Boss Tong let out a bitter laugh. "Hehhei... People nowadays are really funny. They’ll agree to anything when borrowing money, but when it's time to pay back, they start crying miserably."
Boss Tong took a drag from his cigarette, glancing out at the traffic and bustling streets below. Then, in his usual low voice, he continued, "That gambling addict Rong cursed at me, calling me a cold-blooded devil. But that lan-joeng should think about it from another perspective. When he was most helpless and needed money the most, it was me who lent him a helping hand. When no other agencies would lend him money, it was me who did. To him, I shouldn’t be seen as a devil, but a savior."
I still couldn’t quite understand. Boss Rong actually borrowed money from Boss Tong? Why didn’t A'Nine stop him?
"But how did he return his savior’s favor? He cried miserably everywhere, saying how hard it was for him and how the two million he had borrowed was cheated out of his hands. He also scolded me, A’Tong, for being cold-blooded; he actually wanted to use the sympathy of his family in the gang to solve his problem.
"But when he borrowed the money, we signed a contract that clearly stated all the interests. How is it our fault if he still can't pay it back?"
The more Boss Tong spoke, the more furious he became, his body trembling with barely contained rage. "Does he think I’m that gullible? If he had truly been swindled out of two million, I would have known!"
As those words reached my ears, I lowered my head, unsure of the facts and unwilling to rush to conclusions. So instead, I asked, "Boss Tong… I heard that Nine zai left with Boss Rong. Is that true?"
"Yes," Boss Tong nodded. "I’ve heard that gambling addict Rong wants to turn A'Nine into the next White Paper Fan. He really has some nerve, doesn’t he? To have a Red Pole and a Paper Fan under his wing—he really thinks of himself as the Dragon Head[1] now."
"A'Nine is my brother," I said to Boss Tong. "I want to see them, and if possible, I’ll make Boss Rong return the money to you."
Boss Tong’s expression darkened immediately upon hearing this. "Very well," he said with a smirk, "If you want to leave, then go ahead and try." He nodded to himself and then waved his hand.
Two men stepped forward, standing directly in front of me.
"A'Jin," Boss Tong said with a hint of amusement in his voice, "You like to call yourself a 426 Red Pole, but I think you’re being modest." He took a few steps back and sat down on the sofa, looking at me with a cold, calculating gaze.
"Boss Tong, I don’t understand…"
"These two are my Double Flower Red Poles [2]." Boss Tong lit up another cigarette, inhaling deeply. "I’m not sure which one of you is the toughest one."
I smiled slightly, then swiftly lifted my left foot and kicked one of them in the knee. The man let out a cry of pain and collapsed to the ground. Without missing a beat, I flew forward, driving my right knee into his chin.
In the blink of an eye, I whipped out my right hand and struck the other man square in the stomach. While he bent over in pain, I grabbed his hair and slammed his head into the wall with a violent crash.
A dull thud rang out, and blood splattered across the wall.
Seeing the first man about to rise, I released my grip and mounted him, launching a flurry of punches to his face. He raised his arms to protect his face, but it was useless; the range of his defense was limited while my strikes had no bounds. When he guarded his chin, I struck his temples. When he blocked his sides, I aimed for his nose.
He kept blocking, and I kept pounding, each punch landing with brutal force.
I pushed myself harder than usual, as if trying to release all the pent-up emotions from the past four years.
The Red Pole I had slammed into the wall earlier regained his senses and quickly wrapped his arms around me from behind. But he didn’t manage to position himself properly right away. If he had locked my throat at that very moment, he might still have had a chance of winning.
I reached out and grabbed his elbow, twisting it in the opposite direction. At this point, he had only two choices: either let go or risk dislocating his arm.
But he was a Red Pole, after all, if he would submit to force, he would be unworthy of that title. Even though I had wrenched his joints apart, he bared through it while using his other hand to clutch my throat.
I knew I couldn’t continue to apply pressure or his hand would be completely useless. So, I released the man who had fallen to the ground and drove my elbow into the ribs of the one behind me. Taking advantage of his brief lapse in focus, I then slammed the back of my head into his nose with a sharp, punishing blow.
His nose, already slammed against the wall, was now struck by the back of my head, and the pain was unbearable. Finally, he let go.
I spun around and swept my leg, knocking him to the ground. Now both of them were down. Taking advantage of their inability to move, I dragged them together, stacking them like a pair of human towers. Their faces were exposed, one on each side. I then lunged forward, pressing my weight down on them.
Then, a flurry of punches.
Left hand, aimed to the left-side face. Right hand, aimed to the right-side face.
Why do people insist on wearing two faces in this world? One for the world to see, and another hidden away. Can someone tell me... which one is your real face?!
Boss Rong, did you lie to me?
Nine zai, did you lie to me as well?
"Enough." Boss Tong’s cold voice rang out.
But I didn't stop. The frustration inside me was too much to bear.
I had lost track of time, consumed by the relentless barrage of blows, until a sudden intervention broke my focus. Turning around, I saw it was Chong ge. I didn’t know when he had entered the room, but now he, along with several of his underlings, was holding me back.
I lowered my head and saw that the two Red Poles were unrecognizable, their faces swollen beyond recognition. Fortunately, I hadn’t gone for the kill, or they wouldn’t have a single tooth left.
"Punk, you truly are ruthless," Boss Tong said as he stood up, his face cold as he approached. "To single-handedly take down two Double Flower Red Poles, and you still call yourself a 426?"
"I’m sorry, Boss Tong." I muttered, lowering my head in sincere regret, my face flushed with shame.
Boss Tong gazed at me, his eyes inscrutable, as if shrouded in a depth I could not fathom. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
In the end, he waved his hand dismissively and turned his back. "A’Chong, see him out."
"Understood, Boss Tong."