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

Wong Chuk Hang was once one of the light industrial areas on Hong Kong Island.

In the 1950s, as Hong Kong Island's industry took off, textile, electronics, plastics, and toy factories sprang up along Wong Chuk Hang Road.

Back then, Wong Chuk Hang was a place where factories lined up one after another, chimneys side by side, machines hummed from morning till night, workers worked in three shifts, and the streets were always crowded with young people in overalls. Getting a job in a factory in Wong Chuk Hang was considered a secure job by many Hong Kong Island residents, and it was the first step for countless new immigrants to settle down and make a living.

However, in the 1980s, the tide began to turn.

Labor costs on Hong Kong Island have been rising year by year, and land prices have skyrocketed. In addition, Lu Chen's large-scale northward shift of manufacturing has moved production lines to the north, causing factories in Wong Chuk Hang to begin an irreversible decline.

One factory after another went bankrupt, one industrial building after another was deserted, machines were dismantled, signs were taken down, workers scattered, creditors came and went, leaving only empty shells, dust, and rusty locks on iron gates.

Nanfeng Yarn Factory is one of them.

The yarn factory closed down in a hurry, without even having time to remove the signboard. The rusty iron gate was half open, and the paint on the four characters "Nanfeng Yarn Factory" on the lintel had peeled off, leaving only half of the character "yarn" barely legible.

The yard was overgrown with weeds, and wild vines climbed up the walls. Inside the factory, the spinning machines had long been removed, leaving only a few cement pillars, black oil stains all over the floor, and piles of unwanted scrap metal.

The roof leaked in several places, and sunlight slanted down through the holes, casting beams of light on the floor. Dust floated slowly in the beams of light, like countless tiny flying insects.

There was a musty smell, a rusty smell, mixed with a lingering smell of engine oil that hadn't dissipated for years.

At 10:00 AM on November 10th, a black van pulled up in front of the yarn factory.

The car door opened, and Victor Roman got out with four of his men.

Calvi carried a heavy black briefcase, switching hands every few steps; Musa—the burly black man who was the first to stand up and shout "Kill them!" in the villa—carried a canvas bag, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily; the two Slavic brothers, Ivan and Nov, brought up the rear, their hands in their pockets, fingers on their shirts, ready to draw their guns at any moment.

Five people, five faces, all with expressions of desperation.

Inside the largest workshop of the yarn factory, the members of the Death Squad had been waiting for a long time.

Yukio Tetsuki, the leader of the Shinigami Group stationed on Hong Kong Island.

He looked to be in his early thirties, with a slender build, but he was dressed in an extremely well-tailored suit, his leather shoes were polished so much that they reflected his image, his hair was slicked back, and he wore an old gold ring on his right thumb.

Behind him stood five henchmen, each with bulging pockets, their eyes scanning each person who entered from head to toe as if inspecting merchandise.

"Mr. Tetsuki," Roman stopped in front of a beam of light and spoke in Japanese with a stiff accent, "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."

Yukio Tetsuki sized him up for a moment, then spoke slowly and deliberately, his English, delivered with a Japanese accent, sounding stiff: "Victor Roman, a very famous figure in Europe, I've heard so much about you."

"It's just an empty reputation," Roman said.

"Hehe, I didn't expect Mr. Roman to be so modest," Yukio Tetsuki chuckled, his gaze falling on the suitcase in Calvi's hand. "Did you bring the things?"

Roman tilted his head in a gesture, and Calvi stepped forward, placed the box on the ground, and opened it. Stacks of US dollars were neatly stacked, gleaming alluringly in the sunlight.

Yukio Tetsuki's subordinate came over, grabbed a stack of papers, rubbed his thumb together, pulled out a single paper, examined it against the light for a long time, and then nodded to Yukio Tetsuki.

"Money's no problem," Roman said coldly. "Where are my goods?"

Yukio Tetsuki clapped his hands, and two of his men behind him slammed two long wooden crates onto the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Fifteen AKs, six Uzis, and four 1911s as a bonus. One hundred grenades and one thousand rounds of ammunition." Yukio Tetsuki kicked the wooden crate. "Considering my past relationship with Victor, this is definitely a clearance sale."

Roman stepped forward, squatted down, and opened the wooden crate. Inside were rows of brand-new AK rifles, their barrels still coated with grease. He randomly pulled one out, the bolt making a crisp, clean click as it was pulled back.

"Good gun," Roman nodded. "Then, shall we cooperate?"

"Don't be so quick to say 'pleasant,'" Yukio Tetsuki stubbed out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe. "I heard you've caused quite a stir in Europe."

That's our private matter.

"I know, but this is Hong Kong Island," Yukio Tetsuki looked down at him. "The waters of Hong Kong Island run much deeper than you imagine. I can't control what you do if you want to cause trouble, but you'd better do it cleanly and not cut off our source of income in Hong Kong Island."

"Don't worry, we'll leave after we finish this order," Roman replied in a deep voice, barely suppressing his annoyance at being scolded.

"That's for the best," Yukio Tetsuki said, turning to his men. "Take a proper count and call it a day."

Roman waved behind him, and just as they were about to pick up the boxes and leave, a loud shout came from outside.

"Action! Action!"

The air inside the factory froze instantly!

Yukio Tetsuki's expression changed instantly. Without the slightest hesitation, he grabbed the suitcase full of US dollars from the ground and sprinted towards the back door!

"Zhemu! What are you doing?!" Roman shouted in shock and anger.

"The deal is done, and I'll take the money, of course! As for the gun, we'll see if Mr. Roman and his men can get it out of here alive!" Yukio Tetsuki sneered without turning his head, and led his men away like nimble wild dogs, disappearing into the ruins of the back door.

Only Roman and the others, their faces ashen, were left trapped in place.

……

Let's rewind fifteen minutes.

At the street corner outside the yarn factory, five plainclothes officers from the Southern District Major Crimes Unit were crammed into an inconspicuous, dilapidated gray sedan.

Team leader Inspector Cao Dahua was sitting in the passenger seat, holding a paper bag and taking big bites of an egg tart, his mouth full of crumbs, smacking his lips.

"Uncle Da," the young agent in the back seat couldn't stand it any longer and whispered, "This is a joint Interpol operation, can't we be a little more serious?"

"Are you questioning me?" Cao Dahua swallowed the last bite of egg tart, licked his fingers, and said, "Get this straight, I was a key contributor to the infamous 'Fight Back to School' operation. I was even personally commended by Inspector Li afterward. I've seen more of the world than you have. You should learn from me."

"But..." The agent looked him over with disbelief, his eyes wide. "I heard you used your body to get ahead—"

"Hey, stop!" Cao Dahua stuffed the paper bag under his seat, straightened his tie, and said, "Those are all fabrications by busybodies. I, Cao Dahua, naturally have real skills. If you don't believe me, I'll show you right now."

Feeling provoked, Cao Dahua pushed open the car door and got out, sneaking towards the yarn factory.

The reason they were lying in ambush here was to arrest the Shinigami Group members, led by Yukio Tetsuki.

As the head of the Grim Reaper Group, who specializes in arms dealing, Yukio Tetsuki had long been under the watchful eyes of Interpol. They bribed one of his subordinates, learned about today's transaction, and laid a trap, waiting for the money to be exchanged for the goods, so they could wipe them all out in one fell swoop.

Cao Dahua's group's task was to hold the alleyway at the back gate of the cotton mill and block the Japanese retreat.

As for how Cao Dahua ended up at the Southern District Police Station—it was purely because he was blinded by lust.

He was doing well as an inspector in the logistics department of headquarters, but in order to pursue that police superintendent Yu Suqiu, he made a rash decision and took the initiative to be transferred to the Southern District Police Station with Yu Suqiu, and specifically asked to join the most dangerous Major Crimes Unit.

So, naturally, he was assigned to this critical position.

However, what Cao Dahua didn't know was that, two hundred meters behind him, on the third floor of an old building, another pair of eyes were watching him.

They were dressed in drab, gray civilian clothes, without badges or epaulets—they were agents belonging to the political department.

However, the Political Department's target was not the Death Squad, but the group of escaped members of the ZZ Liberation Front.

Ever since Roman and his gang were discovered to be on Hong Kong Island, the Special Branch has been painstakingly investigating and has finally found some clues today, and is now preparing to close the net.

Since the Hong Kong Island Police Force is now completely controlled by Chinese, it naturally has nothing in common with the Special Branch, which is directly under the Western government. Therefore, neither side knew that they were also carrying out a mission here today.

So, when Cao Dahua, toothpick in mouth and belly jiggling, tiptoed to the alleyway behind the yarn factory and peeked inside cautiously—

Upstairs, the middle-aged special agent in charge of the political department identified him at a glance, even through the curtains.

"A hidden sentry," he lowered his voice, "this is the hidden sentry for the group inside."

"After keeping watch for half a month, we found someone to be there to meet us."

"Do it, but don't alert those inside."

Three agents were ordered to quietly go downstairs and flank the alley entrance from three directions.

Cao Dahua was still there, his backside sticking out, eyes squinting, peeking through the crack in the back door of the textile factory, plotting how to rush in and steal the credit later—

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

His instincts, honed over twenty years in the police force, made him roll to the side without a second thought.

boom!

A fist slammed into the spot where he had just been standing, but missed.

"Hey!" Cao Dahua scrambled to his feet, still shaken, and stared at the three men in black before him. "What are you doing?!"

"What do you do?" the lead agent sneered. "Don't you know your place in this line of work?"

"What do I do?" Cao Dahua asked innocently. "I'm—cough cough, I'm a law-abiding citizen!"

"A law-abiding citizen?" The agent's gaze fell on his large belly. "What law-abiding citizen would be sneaking around in an abandoned factory like this?"

"Misunderstanding! Misunderstanding!" He waved his hands as he backed away. "Hey, hey, hey, gentlemen, let's talk this out. I am—"

"Stop talking nonsense and surrender obediently!"

Before he could finish speaking, three agents pounced on him at the same time.

Then they learned what it means to "not judge a book by its cover".

Despite his bulky appearance, Cao Dahua moved with absurd agility. The first agent's fist was only halfway through its swing when Cao Dahua leaned back, executing a "bridge" maneuver, and the fist grazed Cao Dahua's nose.

Then, he rolled over to the second agent's feet, grabbed the other's ankle, and forcefully flipped him over—the agent cried out "Ah!" and fell flat on his back.

"I'll hit! I'll hit!" Cao Dahua yelled, imitating Bruce Lee's strange roar. His fat body bounced on the ground, and he actually sprang up, crashing headfirst into the arms of the third agent.

The agent was knocked backward, his back slamming against the wall with a thud. He saw stars, and the gun in his hand flew out of his grasp and flew a long way.

"Fxxk!"

At this moment, the first agent got up and, enraged, grabbed Cao Dahua's collar. Cao Dahua jerked his neck back, and the taut button popped off with a "bang," hitting the agent right in the eyelid.

The agent covered his eyes and screamed in pain. He then slipped on a banana peel that someone had thrown at him, and slid two meters before falling flat on his back in the garbage heap.

"Hahaha!" Cao Dahua laughed, his fat jiggling. "Hey, my old friends, is there a need for such enthusiasm?"

"Chase him!" The lead agent crawled out of the garbage heap, his face still covered in half an eggshell, gritting his teeth. "If we don't get this fish out today, I'll change my surname to yours!"

Cao Dahua jumped in surprise, turned and ran. His large figure weaved left and right through the alley, managing to escape being caught. As he ran, he kept turning back and shouting, "Hey! Don't chase me, I have no interest in taking you as my son!"

He ran for several hundred meters in one breath, until he completely shook off his pursuers by taking advantage of the complex terrain of the yarn factory. Only then did he stop, leaning against the wall, panting heavily.

"That scared me to death...that scared me to death..." Cao Dahua patted his chest, glanced back, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that no one was chasing after him. Then his expression changed.

Something's not right!

The three men moved swiftly and cleanly, clearly not ordinary people or thugs. They had already informed the police that no one would interfere with the operation, unless—

He slapped his thigh suddenly: "Damn it, those guys are Death Squad ambushes!"

"Attention all units! Attention all units!" He grabbed the walkie-talkie and shouted into it, "Attention all units! The Death Squad is lying in ambush at the back door, planning to double-cross us! Move out! Move out!"

However, Cao Dahua didn't realize that because he had run too far, he was now in a rather unfavorable position—separated from Roman and the others by only a wall.

So, the Major Crimes Unit on the other end of the walkie-talkie heard it, Yukio Tetsuki in the textile factory heard it, and Victor Roman, who was inspecting a gun, also heard it.

……

The deafening sound of police sirens rang out outside the textile factory.

Police cars from the Major Crimes Unit simultaneously surrounded the factory from three directions, their screeching brakes echoing through the factory. Footsteps and shouts could be heard from both the front and back doors at the same time.

"Listen up, you inside! You are surrounded! Drop your weapons!"

Yukio Tetsuki had already slipped away through the back door with the money. Taking advantage of their familiarity with the terrain, they quickly disappeared into the alley without leaving a trace.

The officers from the Major Crimes Unit only had time to catch a glimpse of their backs, cursed, and then blocked the front door.

Musa, the burly black man, reacted the fastest, grabbing a wooden crate and rushing towards the front door. Ivan and the Nov brothers followed closely behind. Calvi was a beat slower, but he also quickly grabbed an AK from the crate and cocked it with a click.

Five men, armed with guns, rushed out of the front gate of the textile factory, only to find that the alleyway outside the gate had been blocked by Interpol agents.

"Drop your weapons!" the voice boomed from the loudspeaker. "You are surrounded!"

Musa, of course, would not surrender obediently. He raised his AK and fired a burst at the police car.

Da da da da! ——

A hail of bullets struck the hood of the police car, sending sparks flying. The officers behind the car ducked for cover, then peered out of the windows and returned fire!

As soon as the gunshot rang out, the entire street descended into chaos.

Bullets flew through the narrow alley, hitting the walls and the ground, and spent casings clattered and fell to the ground.

Musa was firing and retreating when, after firing a magazine, he was about to change it when suddenly—

boom!

A stray bullet struck him in the chest.

He looked down at the bleeding hole in his chest, then looked up at Roman in the distance. His lips moved, but he couldn't utter a single word before falling heavily backward.

The fanatical, burly man who was the first to stand up in the villa and shout "Kill them!" fell pathetically in an unknown alley on Hong Kong Island, his blood slowly seeping out and staining the dust a dark red.

"Moussa!" Calvi roared, his eyes red, and raised his gun to charge back.

"Never mind that!" Roman grabbed him. "Let's go!"

Ivan and Nov provided cover while holding their guns, and the four of them fought and retreated.

They walked through an alley and climbed over two low walls, but the gunshots behind them grew closer and closer, like maggots clinging to their bones.

Bullets whizzed past their heels, striking the wall and sending shards of stone flying. They leaped over a stinking ditch, desperately scrambled up a slope, and then, suddenly, the view opened up before them—

A paradise built against the mountainside appeared before them.

Ocean Park, Hong Kong Island.

Roman and his group decisively climbed over the iron railing at the side gate of the park and landed in the Lowland Ocean area.

The weather was nice today, and the park was bustling with people, mostly families with children. Laughter and balloons filled the air.

However, the laughter turned into screams the moment the gunshot rang out.

"ah--!"

Tourists scattered and fled. Some squatted down with their children in their arms, some ran desperately pushing strollers, some dropped balloons, and some knocked over cotton candy stalls. There were cries, shouts, and the sound of footsteps falling everywhere.

Four blood-covered foreigners, holding AKs, looked like madmen.

The police chased the crowd to the park entrance, but were blocked by the chaotic flow of people.

Roman glanced at the chaotic crowd and knew he had nowhere to escape.

He gritted his teeth, snatched the wooden crate containing grenades from Calvi, kicked it open, grabbed two grenades, and then pulled out the Uzi submachine gun he had taken from the crate, snapping the bolt shut with a click.

Then, he reached out, grabbed a young mother who was holding her child and staring blankly, and pulled her in front of him, pressing the muzzle of the gun against her temple.

"Don't come any closer!" Roman roared hysterically in English. "If anyone takes a single step near, I'll shoot!"

The police finally approached, but dared not take another step forward. The crowd formed a semicircle, countless gun barrels pointed at him, but no one dared to pull the trigger.

Roman, holding the hostage, retreated step by step until he reached a flagpole. Suddenly, he fired several shots in the direction of the police.

Da da da da da—

Gunshots rang out over Ocean Park, startling a flock of seagulls that fluttered and took flight.

The sea breeze carried the gunshots far, across the mountain ridge, all the way to the other side of the park.