Chapter Fourteen: The Final Glorious Moment of the Fat Dog

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Inside a cell at Stanley Prison. During the nighttime rest period, Qu Wan-gui was still trying to establish a connection with Qiu Gang-ao. He genuinely held high hopes for Qiu Gang-ao. Especially after learning that Qiu and his team were all former elite members of the Serious Crimes Unit, now collectively implicated in involuntary manslaughter, all sentenced and locked up in Stanley Prison. Moreover, their sentences were set to end around the same time as his own, making them potentially great allies once released. As they chatted, Qiu Gang-ao suddenly looked up and addressed Song Ren, who was on the upper bunk. “Brother Ren, how long is your sentence?” “A bit over three months,” Song Ren recalled. “That’s earlier than ours,” Qiu replied. Ghost then turned to ask, “Ah Ren, what do you plan to do once you’re out?” Song Ren answered, “Haven’t thought that far yet, just taking it step by step.” The current world mission was to punish those who had harmed ‘me.’ According to the original film’s storyline, the main targets were Wang Bao and his loyal Yi Xin gang. Chen Guozhong and the West District Serious Crimes Unit he led were also mentioned in the mission. This was likely because they had coerced Ah Ren into undercover work back then. Furthermore, when recruiting him, Chen Guozhong solemnly promised that none of his men would come to harm. Ah Ren believed him—and ended up devastated... Hence, his deep resentment against Chen Guozhong and the entire West District Serious Crimes Unit. Following the original plot, Song Ren would need to infiltrate Wang Bao’s circle and wait for the right moment. But Song Ren clearly lacked the heart for that. On one hand, he was unfamiliar with undercover tactics and would likely slip up. On the other, he believed punishment didn’t necessarily mean putting his targets behind bars. There were many ways... After all, the targets were powerful gang leaders and ruthless men—whatever he did would be just. “Ah Ren, Ah Ren?” Ghost’s voice pulled Song Ren out of his reverie. Song Ren turned toward the bed opposite. “Ghost, what’s up?” The nickname caught Ghost off guard, his breath faltered for a moment—why did it sound so pleasant today? He cleared his throat to hide his excitement. “I’ve called you several times already. What were you thinking about?”

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Song Ren replied, “Oh, nothing much, just contemplating some plans for the future.” Ghost’s excitement simmered down but remained restrained. “Honestly, Ah Ren, would you be interested in teaming up with me?” “Us brothers joining forces, starting a major enterprise once we’re out.” Song Ren smiled. “Let’s just focus on getting out of Stanley Prison in one piece first.” Ghost was stunned, his enthusiasm instantly doused with cold water. Indeed, Ah Ren’s current situation was more than just bad—it was a real question whether he’d walk out unharmed. Thinking about the loyal Yi Xin and Number Gang inside the prison, Ghost hesitated. These two gangs wielded great influence outside. Aligning with Ah Ren meant offending them as well. Ghost didn’t yet have the confidence or guts for that. Meanwhile, Qiu Gang-ao lay on his bunk, thoughtful and without much small talk, simply saying, “Brother Ren, if anything happens here, just call me.” “You’re the first one in this prison to offer help voluntarily. I won’t forget this favor.” Because the bathhouse incident had drawn blood, the prison guards had stepped up their patrols over the past few days, visibly increasing their numbers. This made the atmosphere inside the prison much more peaceful. Although a few restless troublemakers still stirred up issues occasionally, the guards quickly suppressed them. Fat Dog and his gang had also been unusually quiet these days, avoiding Song Ren whenever they saw him. Song Ren almost wondered if the loyal Yi Xin or Number Gang had forgotten him—or simply didn’t care. This fragile peace lasted until the eighth day of Song Ren’s imprisonment. During the designated outdoor time at Stanley Prison, after soaking up some sun in the yard, Song Ren got up to use the restroom. But as soon as he turned into the bathroom, a shadow suddenly dropped over him. His brow furrowed sharply as he tried to step back, but a prisoner forcefully shoved him from behind. Staggering, Song Ren found a dark shadow engulfing the upper half of his body. It was a coarse, deep brown burlap sack. His vision plunged into darkness, and his hands were momentarily bound inside the sack. The next instant, a heavy blow struck his head. Song Ren reeled, crashing into the bathroom wall. Then, fierce blows from a wooden club pounded relentlessly. The merciless strikes sent searing pain through his nerves. The intense agony snapped him out of the daze caused by the initial blow to his forehead.

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He had been ambushed! His expression instantly hardened, the pain ripping apart his composure. The Kui Bull tattoo on his back heated up fiercely. Struggling inside the sack, Song Ren bent his arms sharply, fingers pressed tightly together, scapulae thrust backward, shoulders and elbows exerting force. Like claws, his fingertips clawed at the seams of the burlap sack, violently tearing it apart in the most direct and brutal way. Just as the sack ripped open, another blow landed on the side of his face. Song Ren’s head twisted aside from the strike, blood trickling from his gums. He pressed his tongue to the wound and spat out a mouthful of blood. As his vision cleared, he surveyed the scene. Inside the bathroom were eight men, each holding a sturdy wooden table leg. On the floor lay the torn burlap sack. Shadows at the doorway hinted at lookouts outside. Among the eight, five were unmistakably familiar—Fat Dog and his four cohorts from the same cell. The other three included one who had once followed Hua Gu’s gang, and two unknown men. This was clearly a long-planned ambush. Judging from the thorough preparations, it seemed the patrolling guards outside had been bribed as well. For a brief moment, the bathroom fell silent. No one had expected Song Ren to rip the burlap sack apart with his bare hands—the sight shocked them all. Song Ren drew a deep breath. He had taken over a dozen blows in that sudden assault—arms, waist, right leg, back, left cheek—all parts of his body ached, many already swelling. The first hit to his forehead was the harshest, the pain still vivid. He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, the bright red stinging his eyes with a chill. Blood dripped down his cold brow and along the corner of his eye as his gaze swept across everyone present. At that moment, the calm he usually displayed was utterly shattered. Curse all of you, you miserable scum!