Chapter 83: Is It Really Necessary?

“Damn it, are you all deaf? I’m talking to you—who’s Fan Wencheng?” As he spoke, the man shoved Xue Yishou aside and began wandering around the house at his leisure.

Xue Yishou was deeply irritated. He could accept playing the underling in front of Ye Qiu, but now even these nobodies dared treat him like he was nothing. Yet after a moment’s thought, a hint of a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. He pointed toward the room where Fan Wencheng’s corpse lay. “Boss, neither of us is Fan Wencheng. He’s in there.”

“Why the hell didn’t you say so earlier? Wasting our time.” The man shot Xue Yishou a vicious glare and swaggered inside, walking with Yao Bo’s characteristic gait.

The next second—

“Holy shit!” The street boss bolted out of the room, hand clamped over his mouth, moving with the speed of a cheetah and paying no heed to what was underfoot.

“Ow!” Yao Bo, the street punk, went sprawling face-first, but he didn’t care about the pain or his scraped knees. Shaking off his underling’s support, he mumbled frantically, “Let’s get out of here.”

Ye Qiu and Xue Yishou exchanged glances, unable to suppress their laughter.

But before long, the group returned. Yao Bo’s face was ashen, lips unnaturally red, obviously still badly shaken but trying to put on a brave front.

“Who are you two? Did you kill him?”

If they were ordinary people, they’d have called the police by now. But Yao Bo and his lot were streetwise; calling the cops wasn’t their first move.

“Hey now, let’s not make wild accusations. We’re here looking for Fan Wencheng, just like you. Right after we found the body, you guys showed up.”

“Oh? So you’re saying you’re friends of Fan Wencheng,” Yao Bo said, a glint of excitement flickering in his eyes, his expression betraying his scheming thoughts.

“No,” Xue Yishou answered directly. “We’re his creditors. Couldn’t find him to collect, so we came to his place to look for him.”

“Really?”

Yao Bo was half-convinced, half-skeptical, sizing them up warily. He’d been in the game long enough, but even he’d been scared out of his wits by the sight of that mangled corpse. Meanwhile, these two were calm as anything—a suspicious fact.

A bold idea formed in his mind.

“You two, you’re the ones who killed Fan Wencheng, aren’t you?”

Ye Qiu and Xue Yishou stared, baffled by his logic.

“Listen, I saw what’s in there. You must have killed Fan Wencheng to tie up loose ends. If you don’t want your little secret getting out, you’d better cough up some hush money.” The greed in his eyes was undisguised as he sidled closer. “One price: ten million.”

So there really was something to Fan Wencheng. Ye Qiu decided to find out exactly what Fan Wencheng had brought back.

“Let me see the thing first.”

“No way. What if you run off?” Yao Bo was suddenly on guard, emboldened by the presence of the corpse. He was now convinced Ye Qiu and Xue Yishou were the killers, and figured as long as he held onto the evidence, they wouldn’t dare make any moves.

“How about this: I’ll go with you. My friend and your men stay here?”

Yao Bo considered it. That might actually work.

“Don’t try to play games. Go ahead and look, but don’t think you can separate us and make a move. Our boss is there too, and he’s not as easygoing as me.”

“Oh? Sounds like your boss is quite something.”

“That’s right. Ask around—no one in the city dares disrespect our boss.”

After boasting about his boss, Yao Bo brought two of his men and went with Ye Qiu to the car. He didn’t bother blindfolding Ye Qiu, strutting about as if nothing could happen to him. After all, in this city, his boss was respected by both the underworld and the authorities.

He was already dreaming about extorting ten million for his boss. With his boss’s generosity, he’d get at least five million himself. With that kind of money, he’d be treated like a god at Shuiyun Tian, and those women would fawn over him. He was already fantasizing about an emperor’s harem.

The car left the city, then followed the coastal road for half an hour before stopping at a fishing port.

“Kid, when you meet the boss, keep your mouth shut. See those blue barrels over there?” Yao Bo pointed at the neatly stacked iron drums on the dock. “Piss him off and you’ll end up inside one of those.”

“Don’t think it’s just a threat. Last time someone annoyed the boss, he got stuffed in a barrel, filled with cement, and dumped in the sea.”

Ye Qiu nodded obediently.

Satisfied by Ye Qiu’s apparent compliance, Yao Bo led him onto a fishing boat.

Inside, three men were playing cards. Two of them had piles of cash in front of them, while the third had only a pack of cigarettes and an unhappy expression—he’d clearly lost all his money.

“Boss, Fan Wencheng is dead,” Yao Bo whispered in the man’s ear.

“You want to see the goods?” Sun Dahai slouched in his chair, glancing over, then tossed his cards onto the pile.

“Game’s over. We’ve got business.” With that, he swept the other two men’s money into his own pocket. The two glared, furious but powerless, forced to watch as their money vanished.

“Look at you two—no ambition. This is a big deal. You’ll get your cut,” Sun Dahai snapped, then barked at them, “Go bring the thing in for our guest to see.”

Soon, the two men returned, carrying in a large wooden crate over a meter tall, water dripping from it—it had clearly been kept submerged.

“Open it.”

At Sun Dahai’s order, they pried it open. As Ye Qiu leaned forward for a look, Sun Dahai slammed it shut again.

“You’ve seen it. Yao Bo says you’re willing to pay ten million.”

Willing? More like blackmailed.

But Ye Qiu had already glimpsed what was inside.

A locked briefcase.

In the center, a skull and crossbones, marked with an X.

It was obvious this thing had been smuggled in from abroad.

“I’ll make a call and have the money brought over.”

“No tricks, or you’ll be sleeping with the fishes.” Sun Dahai’s expression was menacing—this was a man who meant what he said.

Ye Qiu made a call, arranging for ten million to be delivered, then sat back down calmly. “The money’s on its way. Can I see what’s inside the case?”

“Wait till the money gets here,” Sun Dahai replied, hand firmly on the crate, eyes wary.

“Fine.” Ye Qiu nodded, then suddenly asked, “Has anyone tried to contact you these past couple of days?”

Sun Dahai’s expression changed. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Ye Qiu clapped his hands and stood. “Looks like you know more than you let on.”

Sun Dahai’s face darkened again. His hand drifted toward his waist, and at the same time, he signaled Yao Bo and the others with his eyes.

“There’s really no need for this,” Ye Qiu sighed, helpless.