"Whatever you did before, I don't care," Lin Yao said coldly.
"But from now on, you follow my rules."
"No dealing drugs. Absolutely forbidden."
"My rules aren't for show. Whoever dares to break them—
I'll be the first to take a knife to them."
The warm, genial smile on Lin Yao's face vanished in an instant. His voice dropped, heavy and oppressive.
Every one of them felt a chill run down their spines.
"If I catch anyone," he said flatly, "I'll cut off a hand."
Lin Yao had always had zero tolerance for drugs.
Not because of some explosive sense of justice, but because he understood one thing very clearly:
once you touch that stuff, there's no turning back.
He wanted to be a financial tycoon—not a drug dealer.
Besides, this wasn't the old days anymore. There were plenty of ways to earn the first bucket of gold.
White paths, gray paths—both were open, and the profits weren't any less than black-market trades.
In this golden era, the return on drug money was simply too low for the risk.
After finishing the personnel reshuffles and discipline announcements, Lin Yao dismissed the meeting.
Wu was assigned to Kowloon Walled City, responsible for the street he'd worked on before.
However, Lin Yao kept him back, telling him to head over later.
As for the Night归人 bar, on the surface Lin Yao personally sat in charge, but in reality it was handled by A-Bu.
It was only about a hundred meters away—easy to manage.
After everyone else left, Lin Yao asked Wu:
"If I remember right, you used to have a partner named Ah Wah?"
"Brother Yao… you knew me and Ah Wah before?"
Wu's face filled with shock.
Three years ago, he and Ah Wah had joined Wo Shing together. Back then, both worked under Hun Jianglong as low-level underlings.
Later, Ah Wah took the fall for Hun Jianglong and went to Stanley Prison.
Wu then told Lin Yao that Ah Wah would be released this month.
For street-level guys, serving time in Stanley wasn't a disgrace—it was almost like being plated with gold.
Lin Yao knew very well that Ah Wah was far smarter than Wu, and far more dangerous in a fight.
He took a drag from his cigarette and said:
"Tomorrow, go pick him up for me. Give him some money and cigarettes."
"When he gets out, I'll put him to good use. I won't treat him the way Hun Jianglong did—using him as a scapegoat."
"That's incredible!" Wu blurted out emotionally.
"Boss, you're really a good boss!"
He was so excited his hands clenched without him realizing it.
Lin Yao shifted topics.
"One more thing. That small pier near the sea on this street—whose territory is it now?"
Wu thought for a moment.
"That pier? Cargo stopped there a long time ago. It's mostly abandoned. Sometimes people from the mainland come ashore there."
"As for who controls it—it's Yiqun's. That washed-up Sunset Society."
Lin Yao nodded.
"Check how many people Yiqun still has on this street."
"Who can fight. Report back to me before ten tomorrow morning."
Wu's eyes lit up.
"Brother Yao… are you planning to—"
"A dying Sunset Society," Lin Yao said calmly.
"What right do they have to sit on Tsim Sha Tsui turf?"
He tossed Wu a cigarette and added:
"Before we move, keep your mouth shut. Don't stir trouble early."
"Got it, Brother Yao!"
The moment Wu realized Lin Yao was targeting Yiqun, he was so excited he nearly jumped.
Watching Wu's fiery retreating figure, Lin Yao shook his head helplessly.
"Still too rash… In the end, I'm short on people."
He didn't assign A-Bu to this because A-Bu wasn't familiar with Tsim Sha Tsui.
Wu was unreliable—but trustworthy.
As for the other small bosses, Lin Yao didn't trust a single one of them yet.
These old foxes might turn around and leak information the moment they finished a task—or even sell it outright.
Hong Kong's underworld intelligence network was dense, and informants made a living off it.
A full blood replacement was necessary.
He could have A-Bu recruit his old comrades.
A-Bu had fought in the '84 riots.
By his own account, at least eighteen men had died by his hands. He'd even infiltrated enemy lines to capture prisoners.
Those old comrades of his were mostly back in the countryside now, farming.
The migrant-worker wave hadn't started yet.
In this era, rural laborers made less than 2,000 yuan a year.
Bring them over to guard night venues—just standing there would terrify most street punks.
But to recruit them, money had to be right.
At least ten times what they earned back home—only then would they come.
No matter what, Hong Kong still paid far more than the mainland in this era.
Money. Territory.
Lin Yao wanted both—desperately.
Though he had taken over a hall, compared to other Wo Shing halls, Kowloon Walled City was pitiful.
Fat Wah had expanded into Tsim Sha Tsui before his death—but only held half a street.
Constant fights. Constant killing. Every day lived on edge.
Why did Fat Wah want to emigrate?
Because he was old. He couldn't fight anymore.
When people age, they fear death.
It showed clearly in how he'd managed the hall in recent years.
He simply didn't care anymore.
Things had already reached the point where drug users ran rampant—and he hadn't cleaned them out.
Drug users weren't just useless fighters—they ruined everything.
Once they were hooked, what wouldn't they do?
According to A-Bu, even Hun Jianglong himself used drugs.
Nearly half his men did too.
None of them could be kept.
Just then—
Ring ring ring—
Lin Yao's brick phone rang.
It was Lu Qichang.
He waved his hand, signaling the bar manager, guards, and thugs to leave.
After confirming no one was nearby, he answered.
"Ah Yao, congratulations on taking the seat," Lu Qichang said, his voice carrying familiar street roughness.
"Fat Wah's death—did you arrange it?" Lin Yao asked directly, lowering his voice.
"No. Absolutely not," Lu denied immediately.
"If it were me, at most I'd cripple him. I wouldn't take his life."
Lin Yao believed about sixty percent of that—no more.
"What do you want from me today?" he asked.
"Say it plainly. I don't want to be an informant anymore."
"What the hell—are you trying to burn the bridge after crossing it?" Lu snapped, wind roaring in the background, like he was on a rooftop.
"What bridge?" Lin Yao replied calmly.
"My rise has nothing to do with you."
"Officer Lu, right now I just want to make money."
He chuckled and added teasingly:
"You wouldn't be thinking of exposing my old identity, would you?"
"Hey—who do you think I am?" Lu said indignantly.
"Then what is it?" Lin Yao asked.
"You're the boss now. Help me check how many people inside Wo Shing are dealing drugs. Informant fees—"
Before he could finish, Lin Yao cut him off.
"No informant fees.
We can share intel."
"I don't deal drugs. Anyone dealing on my turf—I'll make sure you get credit for it."
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