After hearing this, the bandit king chuckled a few times, his laughter echoing in the room with a hint of amusement. "Since the three Chang'an brothers are feeling so uneasy, then don't leave yet. I'll host a banquet for you to calm your nerves. As the saying goes, there's no deal without a fight. Whether it's us Northeast Tigers or you Northwest Wolves, we're all in the underworld together, aren't we all family?"
Hearing this, the three Chang'an Wolves' originally tense nerves relaxed slightly. Sitting in this seemingly dangerous "tiger's den", they felt a faint warmth in their hearts. They quickly turned their heads and repeatedly apologized to Ye Dongfang, as if the atrocity had never happened.
Soon, the news spread, and members of the Northeast Tiger Gang and the Northwest Wolves flocked to the hotel. The atmosphere, once tense, suddenly became lively due to this sudden reconciliation, and everyone was busy celebrating this "joint friendship." In the grand restaurant, a feast was being prepared.
The bandit king Song Zhijun had his own plans in mind. It is better to resolve a feud than to create one. It is naturally a good thing to be able to reconcile with the Northwest Wolf.
Now that the Four Wolves of Chang'an have surrendered, they should be warmly welcomed, their hostility resolved, and perhaps even look after each other in the future. So, Song Zhijun excitedly began ordering his favorite dishes, his voice dripping with pride: "Cocktail shrimp, hairy crab, grouper, fresh shrimp, a Jiangnan Yipin pot, and stir-fried walnuts are a must, too. Also, grilled chicken, roast goose, suckling pig, and some imported beef tripe. For soup, corn and millet soup or fish head soup..."
As each exquisite dish was served, the rich aroma instantly filled the entire restaurant.
Seeing that these people were so easy to deal with, Song Zhijun used his own psychological tactics to confuse them, and finally took out several thousand yuan to appease his brothers.
The impoverished four wolves of Chang'an looked at each other when they saw the money.
Finally took the money.
Several people expressed that they wanted to follow the boss to make a lot of money, get rich, and do great things.
From then on, Song Zhijun had an additional small team, the Four Wolves of Chang'an.
After resolving the small crisis at hand, Song Zhijun did not delay any longer and boarded a smuggling ship to Hong Kong.
The night was as dark as ink, pressing heavily on the sea. The waves beat rhythmically against the side of the ship, making a dull sound.
However, fate did not seem to let Song Zhijun go.
Just as he stepped onto the deck and hadn't had time to gain a firm footing, he felt a cold metal touch on the back of his head. Immediately afterwards, a deep and fierce voice rang in his ears: "Don't move! I'll blow your head off if you make a sound!"
Song Zhijun's heart suddenly sank, a chill running from his feet to his forehead. He subconsciously wanted to resist, but he felt that at least several pairs of eyes were staring at him closely. If he moved even slightly, he would be killed on the spot.
"Who are you?" Song Zhijun pretended to be calm and tried to find some clues from the other party's response.
"Stop talking nonsense! Behave!" The other party ignored his question. Then, a hood with a stale smell swooped over his head, and his vision was suddenly plunged into darkness. Song Zhijun felt dizzy, his body was pushed and pulled uncontrollably, and he stumbled in a certain direction.
He could hear the whistling of the sea breeze, feel the slight rocking of the boat, and the heavy breathing of those around him. With every step he took, the fear and doubt in his heart increased.
After an unknown amount of time, Song Zhijun was escorted off the boat. His feet touched solid ground, yet he still felt as if he were in a nightmare. Then, he was roughly shoved into another room. The door slammed shut with a clang, the sound echoing in the empty space for a long time.
The air was filled with a damp, decayed smell, like a warehouse that hadn't been ventilated for a long time. Song Zhijun tried to move, but found that his hands had been tightly bound and he couldn't move at all.
"What do you want?" Song Zhijun shouted, his voice particularly abrupt in the dark space. However, he was only met with endless silence, as if those people had disappeared without a trace, leaving him alone in this dark warehouse, facing the fear of the unknown.
At this moment, Song Zhijun was filled with regret and resentment. He had thought he could escape safely aboard the smuggling ship, but he hadn't expected such a misfortune upon boarding. He didn't know what awaited him: death, or even more brutal torture? In this darkness, he could only struggle in vain, his thoughts a tangled mess.
In the dark, decaying warehouse, the passage of time felt like a cruel torture. Song Zhijun had been trapped in this darkness for three days and three nights, his limbs numb from the long restraints, and his consciousness was becoming hazy from the dual blows of exhaustion and hunger.
Just as he was about to lose consciousness, the warehouse's iron door creaked open, and a blinding beam of light shot into the darkness like an arrow, followed by another, striking Song Zhijun directly in the face. The sudden burst of light burned his eyes, which had been in darkness for so long, as if they were on fire. He instinctively closed them, tears welling uncontrollably.
"Name!" A hoarse voice broke the silence like a hammer.
Song Zhijun struggled to adjust to the bright light, his mind racing. Despite being exhausted, having not slept for three days and nights, he forced himself to think straight and decided to invent a story to deal with the crisis.
"I... my name is Li San," his voice was hoarse and dry, like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing against each other. "I'm... I'm twenty-eight years old this year."
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