Hong Kong film: Rise of Prison Break

Boom!

A muffled thud, as if striking a drumhead, seemed to shake the entire prison cell.

The wall, which was already somewhat dented, was now cracked by falling rubble, and spiderweb-like cracks suddenly spread out from the center of the fist!

Tiny stone fragments flew everywhere as the explosion occurred. One of them grazed Ma Zhixiong's forehead, leaving a red mark from which blood slowly seeped out.

Ma Zhixiong stared at Zhang Wenjie in disbelief!

His half-fist was deeply embedded in the hard granite wall!

Zhang Wenjie slowly withdrew his hand, shook off the stone dust, turned to look at Ma Zhixiong, and still had that ambiguous smile on his face.

"Remember," his voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable air of authority, "if you want to climb up, stop whining. When you were young, the rule of the world was—whoever is bigger, whoever is more evil, is right."

Ma Zhixiong shuddered and nodded repeatedly, almost instinctively: "Understood! Brother Jie, I understand! I will definitely do as you say!"

He was still a little dazed about how he got out of the cell.

Her legs seemed to have a mind of their own, walking straight towards Chung Chu-hsiung's office.

The corridor lights were a stark white, making his face appear even paler.

Chung Chu-hsiung was making tea in his office when he saw him come in and raised his eyes.

"Brother Xiong..." Ma Zhixiong swallowed and recounted Zhang Wenjie's plan in detail.

Chung Chu-hsiung listened quietly, his hands never stopping as he washed the tea.

Only after Ma Zhixiong finished speaking did he pick up the small teacup, take a sip, and slowly put it down.

"Hmm..." Chung Chu-hsiung leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly tapping the table. "You're a smart man, you know what to do, right?"

Of course he's not stupid.

Recalling Zhang Wenjie's ruthless and cunning ways when he was a child, I'm at least 70% sure about this.

Moreover, even if it's only 30%, the potential profits would be enough to tempt him.

"Brother Xiong, don't worry," Ma Zhixiong straightened his back, his eyes gradually becoming firm, "I know what to do."

Stepping out of the office, he leaned against the cold wall, took out the pack of Marlboros from his pocket, his fingers trembling slightly.

It took several tries to light it. I took a deep drag, and the smoke filled my lungs, bringing a brief numbing sensation.

None of the people in prison are just freeloaders.

Zhang Wenjie is setting a trap to disrupt the entire cigarette finance chain in Stanley.

The initial stake needed to be paid by Chung Chu-hsiung.

Chung Chu-hsiung, however, instructed him to use the director's name to "collect bribes" from all the prison guards in charge—ostensibly to "rectify discipline," but in reality to extort gambling money.

The gunman who charged into battle was Ma Zhixiong.

No one dared to disrespect the security chief.

In this way, the amount of cash and cigarettes collected will be quite staggering.

Those who manipulate the market are no pushovers either; they have complex backgrounds, set large betting volumes, and dare to buy from anyone.

If he places a large bet in Chung Chu-hsiung's name, the bookmaker will definitely accept it.

There are only two possible outcomes: if he wins, he will be Zhong Chuxiong's right-hand man and one of Zhang Wenjie's men; if he loses... no, he can't lose.

Ma Zhixiong threw the cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out.

He took off his hat, wiped his face, and then put it back on properly.

The man in the mirror gradually developed a fierce look in his eyes.

Opportunity is only given to those who dare to risk their lives.

He absolutely refused to spend his life as a lowly prison guard wasting his time.

Take a deep breath, push open the door, and step into the dimly lit corridor.

The first target was Old Liu, who managed the warehouse.

Meanwhile, on the second basement level.

Zhang Wenjie was squatting in a toilet stall, holding an old cell phone in his hand.

The light from the screen illuminated half of his face.

"Don't worry, once a boss, always a boss," he said softly into the microphone, his voice calm and even. "I will definitely protect your spirit."

A mumbled reply came from the other end of the phone, and then the call was disconnected.

Zhang Wenjie pried open the back cover of the phone, removed the SIM card, broke it in half, and then threw the phone into the latrine.

Watching the murky water swirl and swallow the small black cube, he pressed the flush button expressionlessly.

wow-

Everything vanished without a trace.

He pulled a photograph out of his pocket.

The man in the photo is wearing gold-rimmed glasses and has a refined smile—a smiling tiger.

Zhang Wenjie picked up a box of matches and struck one.

The leaping flames licked the edges of the photograph, gradually spreading and burning the smiling face into a curled, charred mess.

He used the dying embers to light the cigarette dangling from his lips.

"A smiling tiger... if there's food, then eat more." Smoke slowly escaped from his nostrils, blurring the fleeting fierce glint in his eyes. "Heh..."

If he doesn't provoke these self-righteous old foxes in Stanley, and generate enough "interest" and malice towards him, how can he reap the massive amount of... moral points he's about to harvest?

---

Exactly one month.

On the day the betting market closed, Stanley Prison appeared calm on the surface, but undercurrents were surging beneath.

Many prison guards were "persuaded" to donate a lot of money for cigarettes by Ma Zhixiong using Zhong Chuxiong's name.

As for Director Zhong, he happened to be publicly reprimanding a law-breaking offender on the playground today, looking upright and incorruptible. Whether he was rectifying discipline or taking the opportunity to cover something up, no one dared to ask.

The highly anticipated gambling game officially opened in Warehouse No. 1.

Having received word of the situation, the prison guards tacitly turned a blind eye, deliberately avoiding that area during their patrols.

Deep inside Warehouse Number One, Da Mi sat on a worn-out sofa, twirling two shiny walnuts in her hands.

Standing before him was a lean man, none other than his trusted confidant, Daliqi.

"Boss," Daliqi looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping before bending down and whispering in Da Mi's ear, "I think... this time the odds are a bit beyond our control."

"Rumors are circulating outside that this is a showdown between Tung Sing and Hung Hing in Stanley. Several of the older uncles have heard the news and have sent messages in through intermediaries..."

Big Mi scoffed, spinning the walnuts in his hand with a crackling sound: "Tch! Sending someone to say hello? If you've got the guts, come to Stanley and tell me yourself! You're so old, you should just die or get out of here, still thinking you're something special?"

He was imprisoned in a prison cell because he took the blame for Jiang Zhen. In terms of seniority and ruthlessness, he was no less capable than those old guys outside who only knew how to talk.

"Hehe...they wouldn't dare come in," Daliqi chuckled obsequiously. "Once they're in Stanley, they're at your mercy, boss..."

"Enough nonsense!" Big Mimi interrupted him, her eyes sharpening. "Have you prepared the manpower I asked for?"

"This time, we're not just going to cripple that scumbag Dongxing gang member, but also give that idiot Sha Biao a good thrashing! Let him know who's in charge in Warehouse Number One!"

"Boss, you can rest assured!" Daliqi grinned lewdly and patted his chest to assure him.

"Everything's ready! We've picked the best fighters, and the weapons are all prepared. We guarantee that this Zhang guy will come in standing up and leave lying down!"

Dami nodded in satisfaction, looked out at the dimly lit corridor outside the warehouse door, and a cruel smile spread across her face.

The show is about to begin.

The chips next to the gambling table had already piled up into a small mountain.

It wasn't just cigarettes or money; it was dignity, territory, and life and death under the watchful eyes of countless people in Stanley.