Chapter Fifty-Four: Demons of the Inferno

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"Brother Nan, how could you agree to Ghost Man Chao’s terms? Underground death matches are a game of life and death…" As soon as they walked out of Ghost Man Chao’s villa, Long Kun couldn’t help but voice his worries.

Zhuo Nan kept his head down, leafing through the dossier Ghost Man Chao had handed him. His opponent was a black man, a former professional boxer from America, who had fought in underground matches throughout Southeast Asia before coming to this country—never once defeated. Out of fifty-two matches, he’d killed fifty-one opponents; the only survivor was now an imbecile, unable to care for himself…

Hearing Long Kun’s words, Zhuo Nan closed the file and replied with a cheerful smile, “Think about it—if I hadn’t agreed, do you really think Ghost Man Chao would have let us walk away?”

Long Kun was taken aback. It was true, but he had his own ideas. "Brother Nan, what is there to be afraid of? If Ghost Man Chao comes after us, we’ll just fight back—"

Zhuo Nan arched an eyebrow and looked at Long Kun. "And what, exactly, would you fight him with? How many people do we have? How many does he?"

Faced with these questions, Long Kun was at a loss, mumbling without being able to answer.

Seizing the opportunity, Zhuo Nan gave Long Kun a little lesson. "We have fewer than thirty men. They have over three hundred. How do you expect to win? Long Kun, whatever you do, use your head—think more, observe more. In the future, you’ll be in charge of Deqing’s underworld. If you act rashly and impulsively, how can I entrust everything to you?"

Long Kun felt muddled, puzzled inside. Was Brother Nan hinting that he wanted him to be the boss? But what about Ghost Man Chao? Suddenly, realization dawned—could Brother Nan be planning to take out Ghost Man Chao himself? He looked at Zhuo Nan in astonishment, and, catching a slight nod, his heart pounded. Was Brother Nan really bold enough to try this? But thinking further, perhaps Brother Nan had already calculated everything…

After Zhuo Nan and his group left, Pig Biao and Black Bear sidled up to Ghost Man Chao. Black Bear asked, "Chao, do you really think that highly of that young man?"

Pig Biao had wanted to ask the same question, but since Black Bear had spoken, he just stood quietly by Ghost Man Chao’s side and listened.

"This young man is remarkable," Ghost Man Chao said indifferently. "Any one of you four, the so-called Four Vajra, could dominate Deqing on your own. Yet this kid took all four of you on and didn’t even need a minute. Isn’t that terrifying? I also have a feeling that Sang Qiang and his men probably fell at his hands as well."

For the two men, these words carried a different weight. When Sang Qiang had his accident, he’d brought twenty-six men, making twenty-seven in total, each armed. If Zhuo Nan really took them down alone, just how fearsome was his strength?

Pig Biao pondered for a moment. "Chao, what if the kid loses?"

Ghost Man Chao chuckled, "If he loses, so be it. I’m out a few million at most, but Long Kun’s bar will be mine. That bar’s future potential far exceeds a few million… But if the kid wins, it’ll be the upset of the century. Imagine how much money I’ll make then—have you done the math?" He laughed heartily, as if everything was under his control.

Night fell. Zhuo Nan sat alone at his desk, the fight scheduled for Saturday night. Once midnight passed, it would already be Friday—barely a day left. As for Johnson, the black boxer, Zhuo Nan didn’t spare him a thought. So what if he was a former professional? The emphasis was on "former." If Zhuo Nan wished, he could end it in seconds.

He glanced at the time—past midnight. His sister was deep in sleep, his mother had retired, and Zhuo Wengang had gone out for his usual night shift. Zhuo Nan sent his mind into the brains of his sister and mother, ensuring they remained in deep slumber and wouldn’t awaken in the night—thus, they’d never realize he was gone.

After changing into black clothes, Zhuo Nan slipped out. His destination: Ghost Man Chao’s villa. Now that he knew where Chao was, the rest was easy. The Super Brain was right—killing him would be simple, but seizing control of Deqing’s underworld would be far more difficult. Since that was the case, he’d just control Ghost Man Chao instead.

Chao was notorious for his nightly escapades, always playing the bridegroom. Tonight, he’d bedded another virgin, exhausting himself in his indulgence until he slept like the dead. In his dreams, Chao vaguely sensed the television in his room flicker on. He assumed it was the girl beside him, unable to sleep, watching TV. Rolling over, he felt her still sleeping soundly. Then who was watching TV? He sat bolt upright—the girl was out cold, while the television played a lewd scene. On the sofa by the window sat a man, grinning at him. "Chao, you’re awake? Not a bad film, eh?"

It was Zhuo Nan. Ghost Man Chao immediately sensed danger. But he was a man seasoned by countless brushes with death; his composure was not easily shaken. "What do you want?" he asked, not wasting time on pointless questions. He understood that his men outside were likely fast asleep.

Clap, clap, clap—Zhuo Nan stood and applauded three times, then walked up to Chao, smiling. "Chao, what do you think I want?"

Chao glanced at the woman beside him. "Don’t bother. She’s dead to the world. It’s just you and me—let’s have a talk," Zhuo Nan said.

"What do you want to discuss?" Chao calmed himself. The situation was clear: he was at the mercy of the man before him. Better to be straightforward.

Zhuo Nan played with the thing in his hand, which made Chao’s heart pound. It was none other than his own set of ledgers, chronicling every illicit deal, every bribe, every sum.

With a sudden burst, Chao lunged to snatch it back. As Zhuo Nan expected, the fat man—who looked more like a neighborhood official—was anything but simple. In one fluid motion, he whipped the bedsheet around his waist, a move that only someone with real training could execute so naturally.

But Zhuo Nan dodged easily, stepping back with a grin. "Chao, you want to fight?"

Chao’s failed attempt had exposed his abilities; any further attack was now impossible. "Kid, I’ll give you five million. Hand over the files and I’ll pretend we never met," he said coldly.

Zhuo Nan laughed. "Come on, Chao, no need to be so formal. We’ve met, after all. I’m still helping you with the fight this Saturday… Let’s keep things friendly, shall we?"

Chao found Zhuo Nan’s attitude both infuriating and bizarre. The young man acted as if they were old friends, always leading the conversation, pulling Chao along in his wake.

But Chao was no rookie. Though he knew the situation was dangerous, he felt no fear.

"Brother, I see you’re a capable man. How about this: come work for me. The five million I mentioned is yours, and I’ll give you another two hundred thousand each month after that. What do you think?" Chao tried to buy him off with a generous offer.

"Fuck off…" Zhuo Nan snarled. Was this man’s brain kicked in by a mule? Just a moment ago he’d been polite, now he turned hostile faster than flipping a page. With a sudden kick, Zhuo Nan launched himself into the air and drove his foot into Chao’s chest. The fat man, weighing over one hundred and seventy pounds, was sent tumbling across the floor.

Zhuo Nan didn’t give him a chance to recover. In a flash, he was upon Chao, his hands like iron clamps choking Chao’s neck, lifting him clean off the ground. Chao, still reeling from the blow, thrashed his legs desperately, trying to shake Zhuo Nan off, but couldn’t even make a sound. His face turned beet-red as he clawed at Zhuo Nan’s hands, but his strength was no match. The effort only drained him further.

Sensing Chao’s life ebbing away, Zhuo Nan flung him to the floor. In his hands, Chao’s massive body was as helpless as a chick.

Chao lay gasping in agony, but Zhuo Nan stepped forward and kicked him hard in the stomach, flipping him over.

"Fatso, let me make this clear. Killing you would be as easy as squashing an ant. Don’t try to show off before me. Whatever I say, you do," Zhuo Nan said coldly, pointing at Chao.

He paused, then continued, "And don’t even think about the gun by your bedside." With that, he walked over, opened the nightstand, and pulled out a Type 54 pistol, weighing it in his hand.

Chao was stunned—how did he know what I was thinking? How did he know there was a gun there? But none of that mattered now—Zhuo Nan was aiming the gun right at him.

With a click, the gun was loaded and safety off, the cold barrel pressed to Chao’s forehead.

Chao turned pale with terror. "Brother Nan… please, don’t kill me. I’ll do anything you say!"

Zhuo Nan grinned, put the gun away, and spoke slowly, "Now that’s more like it. Your life is in my hands. From now on, you do as I say."

Chao nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, Brother Nan, I’ll do whatever you say. You’re my boss—from now on, I listen to you." He agreed energetically, but—

A blood-curdling scream tore through the room as Zhuo Nan grabbed four fingers of Chao’s right hand and snapped them back, breaking them. Chao rolled on the ground in agony, but Zhuo Nan looked on coldly, devoid of emotion. "Fatso, don’t think you can get rid of me and then go after my family behind my back." As he spoke, he stomped on Chao’s broken fingers, grinding his heel down.

"Ah—Brother Nan, I was wrong, I was wrong… please, let go… let go!" Chao was drenched in sweat from the pain, unable to fathom how Zhuo Nan seemed to read his every thought.

Zhuo Nan finally lifted his foot. Chao sat up, clutching his wrist, the swagger he’d displayed during the day utterly gone.

"Fatso, if you listen to me, there will be plenty of rewards. Try to play games, and I’ll make you wish you were dead," Zhuo Nan said coldly.

At that moment, Ghost Man Chao felt that the man before him was no human, but a demon—a fiend sent from hell to claim his soul.