Chapter 125: The Trump Card in Hand

In an instant, dozens of men drew their machetes and surged forward without a shred of hesitation. The other three top-tier young masters frowned; they had not come here intending to fight the Yi Sect to the death, but the situation had spiraled beyond their control.

Li Chen, true to his reputation as a top-tier young talent, floored several men in quick succession with effortless ease. His fists moved like the wind, striking with powerful, tiger-like force. After dropping two men blocking his path with a pair of straight punches, he leaped forward, morphing his fist into a claw as he lunged toward Huang Mao.

The ten members of the Blood-Red Guard, who had remained stationary until now, underwent a sudden shift in aura. Cold, menacing light glinted as they drew their triangular bayonets. Two of them instantly intercepted Li Chen, closing in from both sides.

"Hmph," Li Chen muttered, though he did not slow his assault. His footwork shifted fluidly, dodging the bayonets before he launched a kick aimed directly at Huang Mao’s throat—a lethal strike.

One guard quickly parried with his bayonet, while the other moved in perfect coordination to strike at his lower body. Forced to retract his leg, Li Chen instantly changed his technique. In mid-air, he hooked one man’s arm, pulled himself forward with a powerful shove, and pivoted, lashing out with his other leg to whip across the second guard’s shoulder.

In this brief skirmish, Li Chen had fought two men at once and managed a slight advantage, yet he realized that gaining any ground here would be impossible. With two members of the Blood-Red Guard and ten others as support, victory was an arduous, near-impossible task.

The other three—Chen Shu, Zhao Wuji, and Sun Dong—also ceased their fighting. Although they had not been at a disadvantage during the scuffle, they understood that if they pushed this to a life-or-death struggle, they would pay a heavy price.

"You have three days to think it over. Don't blame us for what happens then. Let's go," Zhao Wuji snorted, then retreated with his men.

When Chen Erpao arrived and learned of the situation, he was fuming. Even a clay figurine has a temper, and he would not tolerate such blatant provocation on his own doorstep. With the Heng Hall in front and numerous mainland alliance factions closing in from behind, even the brothers in his sect were growing uneasy. After all, dealing with the Heng Hall alone had already required mobilizing nearly half their strength; now, they faced even stronger forces.

Chen Erpao furrowed his brow. According to the intel Huang Mao had gathered, the four mainland alliances had sent elite fighters. Though their total numbers were under a hundred, even the weakest among them could take on three men at once, to say nothing of the top-tier young masters and the elders leading them.

Three days. He had only three days. Ideas flashed through Chen Erpao's mind. The most viable one was to use heavy weaponry and an overwhelming force—ten times their number—to wipe them out in one fell swoop. That would severely cripple those factions regardless of their power. But that was impractical; the four alliances were backed by numerous mainland powers. Slaughtering so many of their men would surely ignite an endless feud. Yet, he could not allow them to harm Wang Xuemei. It was a headache-inducing problem. After long contemplation, Chen Erpao suddenly stood up.

"It seems I have no choice but to play this trump card in three days. I hope it makes them realize that neither I, Chen Erpao, nor those around me are to be trifled with, and that they should retreat while they still can."

Wang Xing, Huang Mao, and the others gathered around him, their expressions heavy. The difficulty of this challenge was undeniable.

"Brother Pao," Wang Xing murmured after a long silence, "what shall we do in three days? Have you found a solution?"

"Brother Pao," Huang Mao added, "why not gather a thousand of our outer-circle members and use all our firepower? To hell with the mainland alliances and their experts; we'll wipe them all out."

Chen Erpao smiled faintly. "Huang Mao, I thought you were going to rush in alone, slaughtering everyone in your path, your clothes stained red with blood. If we mobilize a thousand men, and subtract those needed to guard against the Heng Hall, we’ll have nothing left. If other rival factions launch a surprise attack, we’ll suffer massive losses. If most of our businesses are destroyed, how do we answer to our backers? How do we make money? Besides, the consequences of such a move are far too great."

"Then what do we do? We cannot let them lay a finger on Sister-in-law. We brothers would rather die than see her harmed."

Chen Erpao looked at them with profound gratitude. Having a few brothers you can truly trust, who share in both adversity and fortune, is the greatest wealth—far more valuable than mountains of gold. Gold can hire men, but it can just as easily turn those same men into enemies.

"Don't worry," Chen Erpao said. "I have a plan for three days from now. We won't need to fire a single shot, or even lift a finger."

"What!" Wang Xing and Huang Mao exclaimed in shock, their mouths agape as if the sky had collapsed. Were ten thousand heavenly soldiers going to descend from the clouds to help them?

Chen Erpao did not reveal his plan, telling them only to wait patiently and prepare to watch the show. Leaving the Yi Sect headquarters, he took his stretched Bentley out of Tuen Mun and headed straight for Central.

In Central stood a famous building, its exterior shaped like an inverted bottle, with a unique, funnel-like design that tilted inward—a structure rumored to be designed to prevent unauthorized entry. Before the handover of Hong Kong, this was the headquarters of the British forces in Hong Kong, known as the Prince of Wales Building. After the People's Liberation Army garrison arrived, it was renamed the "Building of the People's Liberation Army Hong Kong Garrison."

As Chen Erpao’s Bentley reached Central, he noticed the traffic increase significantly. The streets were vibrant, filled with endless shops and bustling crowds—a stark contrast to the burgeoning, developing Tuen Mun. If Central was the heart of the city, Tuen Mun was merely the suburbs.

"One day, I, Chen Erpao, will step out of Tuen Mun. Whether it’s Central or the Wan Chai pier, this prosperous land of Hong Kong will be under the control of the underground empire I build. I will rewrite the order."

Looking at the passing scenery, a voice roared within his heart. Before long, he reached the center of Central, where a skyscraper rose like a giant mountain, a titan reaching for the heavens.