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

The warm afternoon sun slanted down through the gaps in the tree canopy, casting dappled golden light on the pile of fallen leaves.

Chen Jiaju sat slumped in the driver's seat of the patrol car, grinning as he applied medicine to his wounds. He had taken off his jacket, revealing crisscrossing bruises on his upper body.

"Hiss—" He grimaced, pressing the gauze soaked in ointment onto the wound, muttering under his breath, "These bastards... they're fucking ruthless."

In the distance, several fully armed Jiahe security personnel were escorting the men in black who had previously fled out of the woods one by one.

Just then, the car door was pulled open from the outside. Tian Yangsheng stood outside the car, glanced at the stick wound on his back, and a look of helplessness flashed in his eyes.

"You're really something," Tian Yangsheng said, "how do you always manage to get yourself into these situations?"

Chen Jiaju looked up and glared at him, then said with a wry smile, "As a policeman, isn't it only natural that thieves would target me? But... this time, I'm really grateful that you arrived in time, otherwise I would have been in grave danger."

"Good to know," Tian Yangsheng said, taking out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one out and lighting it with a "snap." "Remember to carry the alarm with you next time too, don't forget to leave it in the car one day for convenience."

"Don't worry, ouch—" Chen Jiaju grinned, but accidentally aggravated the crack at the corner of his mouth, and immediately gasped in pain. "I put all of those dozen or so alarms you gave me in the pockets of my usual clothes, not a single one was left behind."

Tian Yangsheng gave him a deep look, but said nothing more.

He understood his friend's personality—being a policeman and catching bad guys was an obsession and dream etched into his bones, something he could never give up in this lifetime, and all he could do was try his best to protect him.

"...But then again, you actually did a great job today by accident." Tian Yangsheng took a deep drag of his cigarette, changed the subject, and pointed to the other side of the road.

"Hmm?" Chen Jiaju raised an eyebrow and looked over in the direction Tian Yangsheng was pointing. He saw two people from Jiahe Security escorting Nightingale toward a black armored vehicle.

His right hand had been urgently bandaged, and large patches of dark red blood had seeped into the white gauze. His face was deathly pale, and he was no longer the composed man he had been just moments before.

"The person who personally led the team to intercept you this time is the last mastermind behind the Baishi Camp riots," Tian Yangsheng said calmly.

"Wait—" Upon hearing this, Chen Jiaju, ignoring his pain, sat bolt upright. "The last one? You mean there are other masterminds behind this?"

Tian Yangsheng nodded: "Of course, he couldn't have done so much by himself as the team leader. But don't worry, everyone else has been caught. We were worried about not being able to find the last person, but he actually came to find you on his own initiative."

Chen Jiaju's eyes lit up instantly, and he quickly asked, "What exactly happened?! Tell me the details!"

"That won't do," Tian Yangsheng said mischievously, waving his hand. "This is classified information. If you want to know the details, wait for the later police report."

"Hey!" Chan Ka-kui exclaimed anxiously, standing up while bracing himself against the car door. "I'm the police officer! How could you keep it from me too?"

"You are a police officer, that's true, but you're on leave right now," Tian Yangsheng said, walking towards the armored vehicle without looking back. "Take good care of your injuries, Super Cop."

After saying that, Tian Yangsheng climbed into the armored vehicle, the door slammed shut, and the convoy slowly turned around and sped away along the winding mountain road they had come from.

Chen Jiaju stood there, staring in the direction the convoy had disappeared, stamping his feet in anger: "Hey! Hey! You son of a bitch, Tian Yangsheng—"

The wind blew across the fields, scattering the rest of his insult into the air.

……

Let's go back to the previous night, at 9 p.m.

Inside the Senior Office of the Political Department in Central.

After seeing Nightingale and Sha Tin Police Chief Zhou Yi off, Howard sat back down at his desk, picked up the black phone on the corner of the desk, and dialed a special number.

The phone rang for a long time before being answered. A rough, deep male voice came from the other end: "Feed?"

"Mr. Lian," Howard said in broken Cantonese, "it's me."

"...Mr. Howard, what brings you here so late?" Lian Haolong's voice was noticeably more wary when he heard that it was Howard calling.

"You must have heard about the White Stone Camp riots."

"Of course, after all, this matter has caused a great stir in Hong Kong, so it's hard not to know about it."

"Very well, then I'll get straight to the point," Howard leaned back in his chair and said, "I'd like to ask you to help me hide a few South Vietnamese refugees who escaped from White Stone Camp. It won't take long, just make sure no one can find them before the day after tomorrow."

In fact, it would have been more appropriate for Howard to send agents from the Political Department to do this job—after all, they were professionally trained, knew how to track and counter-surveillance, and had a lower risk of being exposed.

But Howard didn't dare.

The previous "Return to the Tower" incident taught him a valuable lesson, and he was well aware that in these turbulent times, the Political Department was being closely watched. If they were to get involved directly again and their activities were uncovered, everything would be over.

Therefore, he wanted to find an "outsider" to do this.

On the other end of the phone, Lian Haolong remained silent for a long time after hearing Howard's "small request".

"...Mr. Howard, I, Lian Haolong, am just a short-statured gangster. I don't have the ability to hide people under the intense search by the police and Red Star. You should find someone else to handle this matter."

To put it bluntly, this incident is of no benefit to Lian Haolong and could easily offend the powerful figures in the Red Alliance. If they later find out that he was the one who did it, he will definitely be in deep trouble.

"Mr. Lian," Howard's voice remained calm upon hearing Lian Haolong's refusal, but a chill had crept into it, "Do I need to kindly remind you? Whose help has allowed your Zhongxinyi to continue smuggling drugs right under the noses of the police and the liquor company? If MI5 stops providing protection, will your Zhongxinyi still have any value?"

"You—" Upon hearing the other party's undisguised threat, a hint of anger flashed across Lian Haolong's face.

Yes, Zhong Xinyi's drug smuggling did receive help from MI5, but he also gave Howard a large sum of money every quarter! Unexpectedly, this greedy and insatiable foreigner turned his back on him and used this as a bargaining chip.

"If I remember correctly," Howard continued slowly, seeing that Lian Haolong didn't respond, "your recent shipment is still sitting in your Yau Ma Tei warehouse, right? If someone anonymously reports it to customs or the Narcotics Bureau right now... how much time do you think you have left to clean it up?"

"...Where is he/she?"

Howard's lips curled into a satisfied smile: "Same place as always, I'll contact you about the time later."

"it is good."

The receiver picked up a busy signal indicating a disconnection.

"Snapped!"

Unable to contain his rage any longer, Lian Haolong smashed the microphone in his hand to pieces.

His face was ashen as he pulled out a cigar and took several deep drags before forcibly swallowing back his murderous intent.

He then dialed another number using his personal cell phone.

"Brother." A younger voice came from the other end.

"Ah Dong, take two trustworthy men to the Yau Ma Tei pier, to the entrance of Warehouse No. 7. Someone will be delivering some 'goods' in a little while. Take them to that safe house in the New Territories, hide them well, and don't let anyone know."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone: "...Brother, what happened?"

"Don't ask," Lian Haolong said, "Just do as I say."

"……clear."

After hanging up the phone, Lian Haolong sat alone in the dimly lit office for a long time, until the cigar between his fingers was completely burned out, before he got up and left the office with a gloomy expression.

"Brother Long, shall we go home?" the driver asked, turning his head in the Mercedes-Benz.

Lian Haolong waved his hand: "No, let's go to Huadong Apartment."

He's furious and plans to vent his anger on his concubine, Triss.

The driver nodded and steadily drove the car out of the underground parking lot, heading towards Tsim Sha Tsui.

About half an hour later, the car stopped in front of a high-end apartment building in Tsim Sha Tsui.

This was bought by him last year at a high price specifically to house Tsui-si. Her only job every day was to dress up in a flamboyant manner and wait for Lian Haolong's "favor".

After getting out of the car, Lian Haolong refused his underlings' request to follow him and went upstairs alone. He took out his key and skillfully turned the door of the apartment.

The lights were off, the curtains were drawn, and only a faint light shone from the direction of the bedroom.

Lian Haolong frowned, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he fumbled for the main light switch on the wall.

"Snapped!"

The instant the lights came on—

Lian Haolong's hand froze.

There was a person sitting quietly on the sofa in the living room.

The man was young, with a chiseled face and hair that flowed like a lion's mane. He was looking at him with a half-smile.

Lian Haolong's heart sank. He instinctively wanted to retreat, but two towering men, each holding a submachine gun, stood at the door, signaling him not to move.

Helpless, Lian Haolong obediently raised his hands: "Who are you?"

The foreigner didn't answer Lian Haolong's question, but instead looked him up and down before speaking in a mocking tone:

"Mr. Lian, you really are a good dog of MI5."