Hong Kong variety show: The mastermind behind the scenes is emerging.

Kowloon, another village.

Early spring morning mist lingered around the villa on the hillside, and the air carried a damp coolness.

Inside the study, Lu Chen, dressed in a loose bathrobe, held a receiver and listened to Ahua's somewhat ashamed voice on the other end of the phone.

"Boss, I've disgraced Hung Hing and you."

Ahua's voice was low and somber. "That Tony... I really can't beat him. My brothers have fought him several times, and some are injured, some are crippled. If we keep fighting like this, I'm afraid I'll lose everything I have."

"Don't blame yourself," Lu Chen said calmly, without a trace of reproach, but rather with a knowing indifference. "Ahua, you've done very well. Tony is a true fighting machine who crawled out of piles of corpses. He won the championship in Southeast Asia's first free fighting competition in 1974, and later in the underground boxing world of Southeast Asia, he even risked his life against top boxing champions. Although you and Airplane are skilled, there is indeed a considerable gap between you and him."

Lu Chen recalled the scene in "Flash Point" where Tony beat up Ma Jun. That was a boss who could go toe-to-toe with Donnie Yen. If Ahua could win a one-on-one fight, that would be a miracle.

"Relax, the support is on its way. I will create an opportunity to wipe out the Vietnam gang in one fell swoop. Just do as I say... As for Tony, a skilled person will take care of him."

"Yes, boss!"

……

At the same time.

Wan Chai, Sai Kung Night Bar.

This is the headquarters of the Vietnamese gangs, and also their most secure stronghold.

After a month of intense competition, the bar had lost its former hustle and bustle. The lobby was piled high with empty bottles and takeout boxes, and the air was thick with the smell of mildew and strong tobacco.

Dozens of Vietnamese men with minor injuries lay sprawled on the sofa, some groaning, others wiping their wounds.

Inside a private room on the second floor.

Looking at the heavily indebted ledger on the table, Brother Zha irritably scratched his hair, making his already fierce face even more grotesque.

"Out of money! Out of fucking money again!"

Brother Zha kicked over a trash can and roared, "This past month alone, we've spent over a million on medicine for our injured brothers! Then there's buying weapons, repairing cars, smoothing things over... that three million just disappeared like water!"

"The people below are all disgruntled. If we can't pay their resettlement allowances soon, we won't be able to lead this team!"

Sitting on the sofa, Ah Hu silently sharpened the military dagger. He knew he wasn't very bright, so he never interrupted, but his temper became even more volatile.

Tony, as always, maintained his suave villainous attire. Although his coat was slightly wrinkled, he remained calm, though his eyes were bloodshot.

"What about the goods?" Tony asked. "How much has been distributed?"

"Screw it!" Mentioning this scoundrel made him even angrier. "That bastard Ah Wah, even though he can't break in, he's got his men guarding the border. Our goods can't get into Mong Kok at all! And in Wan Chai, the police have been cracking down hard lately, so we can't get the goods out!"

Although Ahua didn't gain much advantage on the main battlefield this month, he cleverly changed his strategy: besiege the enemy's stronghold and cut off their supply lines.

Without cash flow, a gang is just a disorganized mess.

"call……"

Tony exhaled a breath of stale air, took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Looks like I'll have to go find those three old guys again."

"But..." Brother Zha hesitated upon hearing this, "We just received three million last month. If we ask for it again now, won't they turn on us?"

"Turn against them?" Tony wiped his glasses, a hint of disdain flashing in his eyes. "Do they even have the right to turn against us? We're all in this together now. If we fall, aren't they worried about whether Hung Hing will come after them? Besides..."

Tony touched the pistol at his waist: "In this world, might makes right."

……

That afternoon.

Wan Chai, Tsui Yuen Tea House.

It was still that luxurious private room called "Tingtao Pavilion".

"Again?!" The bespectacled man glared at the three Tony brothers as they swaggered in, his teacup trembling with anger. "Tony! Do you really think I run a bank? It's only been twenty-odd days!"

"Boss, you can't do it that way," Tony said, sitting down and pouring himself a cup of tea. "For the past month, we've held off Hung Hing's attack. If it weren't for our brothers risking their lives, that Ah Wah would have already torn your teahouse down. Now is the crucial moment. Give me another three million, and I guarantee we can counterattack Mong Kok!"

"Counterattack my ass!" The skinny man finally snapped, slamming his fist on the table and yelling, "I think you've been beaten like dogs by Hung Hing! What have you done in the past month besides causing trouble? We have no money! We have no life..."

"bass--!"

A soft sound.

Ah Hu's military dagger was instantly drawn and stuck into the table in front of the skinny man, only one centimeter away from his finger.

The skinny man's words were abruptly cut off, and cold sweat instantly soaked his back.

"Damn it?" Tony laughed, a very gentle laugh. "What the Third Boss said is so hurtful."

He stood up, walked behind the bespectacled man, braced his hands on the back of the chair, and whispered like a devil, "Boss, we're all in the same boat. If the boat capsizes, nobody survives. I know you guys are rich; you still have a lot of money from the smuggling you've made over the years, don't you?"

"I know you're not flush with cash. Two weeks," Tony held up one finger, "I need to see three million in my account in two weeks. If you don't..."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the three trembling middle-aged men.

"Then I can't guarantee that your ledgers won't end up on the police station's desk."

After saying that, Tony patted the bespectacled guy on the shoulder and left with Brother Zha and Tiger.

Even long after those three plagues left, the private room remained deathly silent.

"Big brother..." Four-Eyes stammered, "What do we do? These lunatics... they really will fight to the death."

"Will you pay?" the skinny man asked.

"Give me a damn thing!!" The bespectacled man slammed his teacup to the ground, shattering it. His face was no longer filled with fear, but with a ferocious rage born of desperation. "These three wolves have gone mad! Three million today, thirty million tomorrow. They want to suck us dry!"

"Since you can't tame them, then... kill them!"

The bespectacled man took a deep breath, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed the number that had called a month ago.

He had kept this number in his savings account, but he dared not call it. He knew that making that call would mean handing his life and fortune to another ferocious tiger.

But now, he has no choice.

"Beep...beep..."

The call was connected.

"Feed." A refined voice came from the other side.

"Mr. Jiang," the bespectacled man's voice was a little hoarse, but it was resolute, "I am Four-Eyes. I accepted your suggestion last time."

"Oh?" Jiang Tiansheng on the other end of the phone didn't seem surprised. "You've figured it out?"

"I've thought it through," the bespectacled man said through gritted teeth. "I can't control those three mad dogs anymore. We're willing to cooperate with you from the inside out. After it's done, all the Vietnamese gang's territory in Wan Chai will belong to Hung Hing. There's only one condition: from now on, the three of us brothers just want to do honest business in peace."

"Deal!" Jiang Tiansheng smiled. "A wise choice. Four-Eyes, you'll find that Hung Hing is much more disciplined than your Vietnamese cronies. I'll give you a satisfactory result within a week."

……

Saigon Night Bar.

The three Tony brothers had no idea that their sugar daddy had sold them out completely.

"Second Brother, will those three old guys pay?" Ah Hu asked with some concern.

"They wouldn't dare refuse," Tony sneered, wiping his glasses. "They have families, money, and power. What they fear most is those who have nothing to lose, and we're those who have nothing to lose right now."

"However..." Tony changed the subject, his brow furrowing, "Two weeks is too long; the guys down below can't wait. We need to make some money first to reassure them."

"What's going on? The goods can't be shipped out again." Zha Ge scratched his head in frustration.

Tony was silent for a moment, a resolute glint in his eyes.

"I eat and drink in Wan Chai, without leaving Mong Kok."

"Wan Chai?" Brother Zha was taken aback. "But the cops have been cracking down hard lately, and we can't find any clients at all."

"Looking for Wang Bao."

Tony uttered a name.

Wang Bao, a powerful figure entrenched in Tsim Sha Tsui and the Western District, was the head of the "Bao" group within the Number Gang. He was a truly ruthless character, vicious and wielding immense power. It was said he had an extremely bad temper and was incredibly greedy; doing business with him was like dealing with a tiger.

"Looking for Wang Bao? That guy's a ruthless bastard!" Brother Zha said. "Besides, he's the biggest demolition expert in this area. If we give him all our goods, the price will definitely be driven down a lot."

"A lower price is fine," Tony said coldly. "What we need right now is cash flow. Even if it's half price, as long as we get a few million in cash to get through these two weeks, we can earn back all the money we need once we take Mong Kok."

"Brother, go contact Wang Bao," Tony instructed. "Tell him we have a large quantity of top-quality 'Number Four,' urgently needing to sell, and only accept cash. This must be kept absolutely secret! Besides the few of us, only notify Ah Qiang, who manages the 'warehouse.' Even the men in charge of the transaction should only know on the day of the deal."

Tony was wary not only of outsiders but also of his own people. Although he didn't know if there were any spies around him, his gut feeling told him that there was something shady going on around him.

"Alright! To turn things around, we'll give it our all!" Zha Ge gritted his teeth and agreed.

……

It's late at night, 11 p.m.

Wan Chai, a dilapidated tenement building rental house.

Watson dragged his tired body up the stairs.

As an undercover agent, this past month has been nothing short of hell for him.

He had to fight alongside the Vietnamese gang against Hung Hing—and was nearly killed by Ah Wah's men several times—while constantly being wary of Tony's suspicious gaze. He felt like his nerves were about to snap.

"Damn it...when will this ever end?"

Watson grumbled as he pulled out his key and opened the rusty security door.

The room was pitch black.

Watson habitually reached out to touch the light switch on the wall.

"Don't turn on the light."

A deep voice suddenly rang out in the darkness.

Watson's hair stood on end instantly!

Almost instinctively, he reached for his lower back, where a .38 police pistol was hidden.

"Who?!"

Watson quickly took a step back, leaned against the wall, and put his hands behind his waist.

"Click".

The lighter's flame lit up, igniting a cigarette.

The faint firelight illuminated a young, stern face, tinged with a hint of masculinity.

The man sat on the worn-out sofa, legs crossed, looking at Watson by the firelight with a calm expression, as if he were looking at an old friend.

"Ahua?!!"