Hong Kong film: Rise of Prison Break

Zhang Wenjie looked down at the needle in his arm, then looked up at Zhong Chuxiong.

Then, to everyone's disbelief, he reached out his right hand, pinched the end of the needle, and slowly pulled it out, one by one.

Tiny beads of blood were drawn from the needle tip.

He casually tossed the anesthetic needle on the ground; the metal tip struck the concrete, making a crisp "clink" sound.

"A mere trifle of skill, yet you dare to show off your amateurish abilities before an expert?"

Zhang Wenjie's lips curled into a mocking smile. He slammed his right foot into the ground and pounced on Zhong Chuxiong like a cheetah!

"Stop him!" a prison guard exclaimed.

But Chung Chu-hsiung did not retreat but advanced.

He threw the wooden stick and tranquilizer gun on the ground, met Zhang Wenjie's charge, lowered his waist and sat down, and threw out his right fist like a cannonball!

"Bang!"

The dull thud of fists colliding, muscles colliding, was enough to make your teeth ache.

The two instantly became entangled in combat.

Chung Chu-hsiung used standard military and police combat techniques, clean and efficient, with each move aimed at vital joints; Cheung Man-kit's moves were more varied, including boxing jabs and hooks, Thai-style knee strikes and elbow strikes, and even grappling techniques.

The two dodged and weaved through the narrow passageway, their fists and kicks flashing and dazzling to behold.

But this duel ended faster than anyone expected.

Within a minute, Zhong Chuxiong seized upon a tiny flaw in Zhang Wenjie's movements—perhaps the anesthetic was taking effect, causing Zhang Wenjie to slow down slightly.

Chung Chu-hsiung swiftly cut into the center line, grabbed Cheung Man-chieh's right wrist with his left hand, passed his right hand through his armpit, and twisted his waist sharply, executing a clean and beautiful over-the-shoulder throw!

"boom!"

Zhang Wenjie was swung up and slammed heavily onto the terrazzo floor.

The fall was extremely hard, so much so that even the metal frame of the bed next to it vibrated and hummed.

Zhong Chuxiong took the opportunity to press Zhang Wenjie's back with one knee, twisted his arms behind his back, and handcuffed him with a "click".

"This is what happens when you break the rules!"

Zhong Chuxiong's voice was icy. He grabbed Zhang Wenjie's hair, lifted his face, and then—

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

He slammed his head against the cement floor three times in a row!

Each strike landed solidly, the muffled thuds echoing through the warehouse.

Zhang Wenjie's forehead was instantly cut open, and blood gushed out, flowing down his brow bone into his eyes and staining half of his face red.

"Chicken Xiong, you're just a coward, are you taking revenge for someone else?"

Zhang Wenjie's voice was very low, and only Zhong Chuxiong, who was on top of him, could hear it.

Although he was being held down, his tone was not flustered, but rather carried a hint of mockery.

Zhong Chuxiong's hands didn't stop; he grabbed the hair and smacked it again with a "thud," while his mouth replied quickly in the same low voice, "Brother Jie, just like you said, if you're going to put on an act, go all the way. Play along, and I'll treat you to pork kidney congee for a late-night snack later."

After saying that, he put more effort into his hands.

Zhang Wenjie let out a timely "uh," his body went limp, and his hands and feet began to twitch slightly—the combination of the anesthetic and the head impact made this reaction perfectly reasonable.

He closed his eyes and stopped moving; only the faint rise and fall of his chest proved that he was still alive.

Zhong Chuxiong stood up, kicked Zhang Wenjie's shin, and when there was no reaction, he raised his head and glanced at every prisoner in the cell.

"Look carefully, all of you!" His voice boomed, carrying an undeniable authority. "No one's rules apply! In Stanley, you must abide by Stanley's rules! Those who break the rules will end up like him!"

He raised his hand and pointed at Zhang Wenjie, who lay on the ground like a dead dog.

"Ma Zhixiong!"

"Yes, Sir!" Ma Zhixiong immediately stood at attention and saluted, his voice loud and clear.

"Take him away and lock him in a dark room." Chung Chu-hsiung paused, then added, "Three months."

"Yes, Sir!"

Ma Zhixiong saluted again, his movements precise and powerful.

The other prison guards who followed them in looked on with envy; this was a rare opportunity to impress the director.

In prison, the warden is the highest-ranking official in name, but often acts more like a civilian administrator.

The one who truly holds real power and is responsible for daily safety and discipline is the correctional officer.

This position is a crucial stepping stone for promotion. If you do well, your superiors will recognize your abilities, your subordinates will be convinced of your worth, and your future will be bright.

What counts as doing it well?

stable.

Stability is paramount.

Handling emergencies cleanly and efficiently, maintaining order in the situation, making prisoners fear you, your subordinates respect you, and your superiors feel comfortable entrusting you with more important positions.

What happened tonight will be all over Stanley tomorrow.

The Tung Sing Red Sticks swept through Hung Hing territory, only to be single-handedly subdued by Stanley's "Killer Hung"—a feat they could boast about for three years.

The prisoners huddled in the corners were already thinking at lightning speed.

Zhang Wenjie is fierce enough to subdue Warehouse No. 1 in one night.

But Chung Chu-hsiung was even more formidable, single-handedly taking down the newly crowned god-like Zhang Wen-chieh.

Does that mean... Killer Xiong is the most hidden BOSS in Stanley?

Thinking hard.

Countless versions of the story have already taken shape in their minds, just waiting to be embellished and spread during tomorrow's exercise break.

"Robinson Crusoe!" Ma Zhixiong pointed at the old man squatting by the wall. "Come here and give me a hand!"

Robinson paused for a moment, then quickly stood up and jogged over: "Ahem...yes...yes, sir!"

He ran to Zhang Wenjie's side and looked at his blood-soaked face. The wound on his forehead was open, and blood was still gushing out.

The old man's white eyebrows furrowed, and a hint of reluctance flashed in his cloudy eyes.

He crouched down, sighed softly, his voice so low it was almost a soliloquy: "Alas... if I had that skill, I would definitely crush that bastard Liu Yaozu to death... my poor daughter..."

He reached out and tried to press on Zhang Wenjie's forehead wound to stop the bleeding.

The moment his palm touched the warm blood, those tightly closed eyes suddenly opened a crack.

Then, she winked at him.

Swift and stealthy.

Robinson froze, his hand hanging in mid-air, his eyes wide with shock, almost letting out a cry.

He suppressed the shock in his heart, quickly lowered his head, and pretended to cough to cover up his loss of composure.

He shakily supported Zhang Wenjie's head, helped him straighten his posture, and then tore a piece of gauze from the makeshift stretcher brought by the prison guard next to him and covered Zhang Wenjie's head.

The blood quickly soaked through the gauze, staining it a dark red.

But Robinson's heart was pounding.

A bold, almost insane idea sprouted in his mind and took root and spread at an astonishing speed...

"Um, Officer Ma..." Robinson stood up, his back hunched, and asked cautiously, "Are you taking me back to my cell?"

Ma Zhixiong glanced at him sideways, cleared his throat deliberately, and said impatiently, "Are you trying to teach the police how to do things?"

"No, no..." Robinson hurriedly waved his hand, lowering his posture even further.

"I'm going to have a smoke and then I'll be back." Ma Zhixiong pointed to Zhang Wenjie on the ground. "You keep an eye on him. If he wakes up or makes any noise, call me immediately. Understand?"

"Don't worry, Sir, I understand, I understand..." Robinson nodded vigorously.

"very good."

Ma Zhixiong turned around, opened the iron door of the ward, and walked out. The door wasn't closed tightly, leaving a crack.

A moment later, two "click, click" sounds came from the corridor—the sound of a lighter, followed by a faint smell of smoke.