Electronic Nezha

Chapter 122 Sixth Master
When I woke up, I found myself lying on a mattress in a huge industrial-style loft with red brick walls and an impossibly high ceiling with two rows of LED lights hanging from it.

I was counting the light bulbs when suddenly my view above was blocked by the faces of several men.

"Wake up, wake up!"

I was so scared that I quickly closed my eyes again.

"We've all seen it, so there's no need to pretend anymore, right?" one of them complained.

I suddenly opened my eyes and asked, "Are you good people or bad people?"

The man who spoke to me was a short-haired guy with a scar on the back of his hand. Hearing my question, he said solemnly, "That's a good question. Good person? Bad person? How do you distinguish between the two? What are the criteria for judgment? You have your own answer—"

"Snapped!"

Before he could finish speaking, I saw his head suddenly drop, as if someone had slapped him on the back of the head.

"You talk too much! You're the only one who's educated! And you're even spouting dialectics!"

Then a greasy old face popped out from the crowd, grinning slyly at me, and said, "We're good people!"

I glanced at his face and blurted out, "I don't believe it."

"Don't you believe me?" The man squeezed his way into the crowd. He was an old man in his sixties, wearing a pilling wool coat. To say he was greasy wasn't to mean he was physically unclean. His face was covered in wrinkles, like a thousand ravines, each wrinkle seemingly able to see right into your head and into your thoughts. How to describe it? Have you ever seen a person who perfectly combined cunning and wisdom, sleazy and otherworldly charm? It felt like this person had possessed this complex temperament since birth and had maintained it for sixty years.

The old man said to me, "Don't you remember me?"

Have we met before?

"You've not only seen him, you've even called him 'Dad'," the old man said quickly, seeing my impatience. "At the hospital entrance, don't you remember?"

I remember now, my dad hadn't quit smoking yet, and when I went to his place to smoke, he did offer me a cigarette, and he also took advantage of me by saying something sarcastic.

It's that old guy!
I said, "You guys were already targeting me back then?" As I spoke, I groped myself all over. The whistle had been eaten by the strange man, my phone was gone, and my watch was gone too—then I saw that both of those things were in the hands of that chubby guy, and Yuan Yuan too!
The old man didn't answer my question. He took out a pack of soft-pack cigarettes, tapped the untorn side with two fingers, and deftly flicked out a cigarette, gesturing to me with it.

I waved my hand, the sharp pain in my lower abdomen still lingered, as if I had been forced to do 200 sit-ups.

The old man lit a cigarette and squinted at me through the swirling smoke, as if he had a lot of questions to ask.

"Do you have a lot of questions to ask? Are you going to continue talking while lying down, or do you think you can try to sit up?" the old man asked.

I braced myself against the mat with my arms and almost sat up—but the pain in my lower abdomen ruined everything.

Just as I was about to lie down again, two men with buzz cuts, one on each side, grabbed me under my ribs and lifted me to the ground. One of them was the one with the scar on the back of his hand; his scar was a round, small pit, but you could tell it was quite deep.

As soon as I stood up, I was surrounded by four burly men, and I immediately felt immense pressure. Even the chubby guy was taller than me. However, because I was standing up, I could finally see their clothes clearly. They were wearing matching khaki training T-shirts and had buzz cuts. For some reason, I suddenly didn't feel so scary anymore.

"Are you soldiers?"

The old man said, "Why are you being so direct right away? Let's start with the basics."

"Okay, where's the 'fish'?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the man with the scar on the back of his hand couldn't help but chuckle: "That's a good description." The other three also smiled. These four had all suffered injuries of varying degrees in their battle with the monster, and hearing me call the monster that gave them a sense of vindication.

Then a loud voice came from behind the crowd: "Sorry, Brother Feng, he got away."

It turned out that Hao Hao had been standing behind this group of people the whole time, alertly observing everyone's movements. I immediately felt much more at ease.

Hao Hao said, "That guy couldn't beat me, so he jumped off the building and ran away. I didn't chase after him."

The chubby boy said, "He didn't chase after us because he wanted to keep an eye on us. We told him we could help you, so he asked us to bring you here." The man with the scar on his hand handed me a deformed kitchen knife and said, "Luckily you didn't get caught because of this. You're supposed to be a good driver, so how come you're such a bad fighter?"

I suddenly realized, "Were you the ones who were following me that night?" At the time, Chen Bing called and threatened me. Xiao Wu noticed that two SUVs were following us. I thought they were Chen Bing's men. I thought to myself, how could Chen Bing, with his influence, hire men of this caliber?

Scarface said, "Not only that, think about it again."

"I can't remember."

"When you were chasing Chen Bing, a car cut him off; that was one of ours."

I asked nervously, "What's your purpose in following me for so long?"

The sleazy old man said, "Let's talk somewhere else."

Hao Hao said, "Brother Feng, you don't have to agree. We can leave now."

I asked the old man, "What if I leave now?"

The old man said, "I won't stop you from leaving, but didn't you want to know who we are? —" He pointed at the four crew-cut men, "Besides, you've all been beaten up together, and these days, it's not easy to be beaten up together."

The chubby boy said, "Director Liu, please stop disgusting us."

Scarface chuckled and said, "Sixth Master, it's not very kind of you to say that."

The old man looked at me and said, "It's your decision."

I said, "You can walk, right?"

"Yes!"

"Oh, then let's chat for a while."

The old man, known as Director Liu, pointed at the chubby boy and said, "You come with me. The rest of you can wait here."

Hao Hao followed closely behind me as if he hadn't heard me. The old man said, "You should stay too. If your brother Feng suffers a loss, he'll complain."

I solemnly said to Hao Hao, "Yes, as soon as you hear me shout, rush in to save me."

other people:"……"

The old man led me up a worn-out staircase, and I took the opportunity to tour this loft-style place. It looked like a converted factory, with a few machine tools in the open space and some modern sofas and tea tables in certain areas. It felt very abstract. This place seemed like it could operate as a bar or teahouse, and it could also be put back into operation at any time to contribute to my country's manufacturing industry...

Going up to the second floor felt like stepping back into the 1980s, with cement floors, waist-high green painted walls, and offices with uniform white wooden doors bearing signs such as "Accounting Office," "Workshop One," "Workshop Two," and "Security Department."

The room we entered was the "factory manager's office".

To highlight the factory director's special status, there was a desk made up of two ordinary tables pushed together by the window. The bookcase and chair were double sets from other offices. Against the wall were two old fabric armchairs with a small tea table in between, one of which had a dented seat.

A banner reading "Focus on production" hangs on the wall.

On the desk sits a stylish desktop computer.

I secretly breathed a sigh of relief. If I hadn't seen this thing, I would have thought I had traveled through time.

The sleazy old man stood in front of the desk, pointed to the two sofas, and said, "Please sit wherever you like."

Just as I was hesitating whether to sit on the collapsed or intact sofa, the old man suddenly said, "Chen Zihan's parents haven't thanked you yet, have they?"

(End of this chapter)