Hong Kong film: Rise of Prison Break

"You damn bastard, your mouth has eaten shit!" A cold voice rang out from very close range, filled with undisguised disgust.

The old man struggled to move his eyes, and his pupils suddenly contracted!

Where is the Zhang Wenjie who was just over 1.7 meters tall, thin and obedient?

Standing in front of him was a colossal giant, a full two meters tall!

His clothes, which had originally fit well, were stretched into taut strips by his bulging muscles. On his bare arms and neck, lumps of muscle bulged out menacingly, and veins snaked like earthworms!

Under the dim yellow light, the shadow cast by that body completely enveloped the old man!

Zhang Wenjie, or rather, the muscular giant at this moment, sneered as he slowly retracted his right hand.

In his hand, which was twice the size of an average person's, the old man's head looked as ridiculous as a basketball.

A strange, violent emotion surged in Zhang Wenjie's chest like magma. A strong urge to destroy overwhelmed his reason, giving him an impulse to crush the head in his hand.

"Huff... Huff..." Zhang Wenjie, in his giant form, breathed heavily, his breath hot.

His bloodshot eyes swept across the room, finally settling on the squat toilet separated by a curtain.

"Since you can't speak," Zhang Wenjie grinned, revealing a chilling smile, "then go where you're supposed to go."

He dragged the semi-conscious old man like a chick towards the toilet.

The curtain was roughly torn off, revealing a dirty squat toilet and rusted water pipes inside.

Over the next few minutes, dull, teeth-grinding sounds, along with the sound of running water, came from the toilet.

A short while later, Zhang Wenjie, looking like a rough and unruly man, emerged from the restroom.

He casually picked up the tattered cloth that had originally been used as a rag from the ground and slowly wiped his hands.

He glanced casually at the broken tiles on the ground, and the dent and extending crack in the wooden door, and spat out a mouthful of spittle in disdain.

As for where that old man went...

Perhaps he really did go to Southeast Asia to sell salted duck eggs.

A tingling, numb sensation began to flow from my spine to my limbs and bones.

Zhang Wenjie, in his burly state, began to slowly shrink his exaggerated muscles, and his bones made a slight "crackling" sound.

His height gradually decreased from two meters to his original slender build of just over 1.7 meters.

However, his original clothes and pants had already been torn into strips during the transformation, and now they were hanging on his body, making him look like a savage.

Zhang Wenjie, shirtless, walked to the broken sofa, bent down and picked up the cigarette box and lighter that the old man had dropped from the ground.

I lit a cigarette and took a deep drag.

The thick, low-quality smoke, when inhaled into the lungs, brought a strange sense of clarity, as if it were gliding down the throat with a texture.

After one cycle, the pale yellow smoke turned into gray mist, which he slowly exhaled.

He slumped onto the tattered sofa, the springs almost piercing the fabric, his middle and index fingers pinching the cigarette holder, his eyes vacant.

In my mind, the "ding-ding-ding" notification sound has been ringing non-stop since I transformed, and it continues now, like a naughty child constantly ringing a bell.

"Start," Zhang Wenjie silently commanded in his mind.

The "ding-ding" sound stopped abruptly.

Immediately afterwards, a long string of flashing patterns and symbols outlined by strange lights appeared on my retina.

They rotate and combine rapidly, eventually settling into a simple interface with a somewhat rustic (and rudimentary) style.

"Ding!"

"The system of winning people over with virtue has been successfully launched."

A line of clear text appears at the top of the interface. Below it are several lines of smaller text explaining:

Using improper means and impolite behavior to treat or retaliate against others. Conquering others without winning their hearts and minds is not enough; true respect and admiration come from genuine submission.

Current morality points: 100

[Note: Morality points can be used to temporarily enhance physical functions, acquire specific skills, and exchange for survival time. Morality points are obtained through acts of "winning people over with virtue." (System evaluation criteria: effectively deterring/subduing/eliminating immoral targets, and safeguarding the host's rights and dignity)]

[New Player Tip: Initial morality points of 20 have been consumed in the first "Emergency Self-Defense". Current morality point source: Effectively handling "Targets who verbally abuse and attempt to imprison the host" x1.]

Zhang Wenjie's lips twitched as he looked at these lines of text.

Winning people over with virtue? Is there some misunderstanding regarding the system's name and actual function?

"However," he muttered to himself, a strange, almost gratified expression on his face, "a civilized person like me should, of course, 'win people over with virtue'."

Feeling the number jump from 0 to 100 on his retina, he took a satisfied drag on his cigarette. It seemed his "efforts" last night hadn't been in vain.

Outside the window, the sky changed from pitch black to deep blue, and then revealed a hint of dawn.

In the dilapidated room, Zhang Wenjie hadn't slept all night, yet he was full of energy.

He studied the rudimentary system interface and tried to invoke it with his mind. He found that apart from displaying morality points, an empty "Exchange List (Not Yet Unlocked)", and a gray "Task Bar (No Tasks)", there were no other functions.

"It really is... a slacking-off system."

Zhang Wenjie drew a conclusion.

There are no mandatory tasks, no tedious instructions, only the most basic functions.

Whether it's a blessing or a curse remains to be seen.

When it was fully light, he even found half a box of expired instant noodles and a dirty rooster bowl in the dilapidated house.

He made a bowl of noodles using the tap water that smelled strongly of bleach coming from the rusty faucet.

At this moment, Zhang Wenjie held the rooster bowl in his right hand and picked up a pair of chopsticks that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere with his left hand, shoveling food into his instant noodles.

Occasionally, he would take a puff of the cigarette he was holding between his left middle and ring fingers.

"Bang--!!"

The already damaged wooden door was kicked open from the outside!

The door hinges groaned under the strain, and the entire door sprang open, slamming against the wall before bouncing back.

Zhang Wenjie slightly raised his head, his eyes calm.

He slowly put down the rooster-shaped bowl in his hand, took the last puff of his cigarette, and then stubbed it out on the broken table.

A burly man stood at the entrance, backlit by the corridor light.

He was at least 1.9 meters tall, wearing a tight black vest, with a menacing blue dragon tattooed on his bare arms, a fleshy face, and fierce eyes.

He was followed by two equally thuggish-looking henchmen.

"Zhang Wenjie, right?" The burly man asked knowingly, swaggering in as his shoes crunched on the broken tiles.

He glanced at the messy room—broken floor tiles, a broken wooden door, and strips of cloth scattered all over the floor—and curled his lip indifferently.

As long as the mission objective remains, nothing else matters.

"Where's Fen Youming?" The big man seemed to remember something, raised his arm and rummaged under his armpits twice, then put his fingers in front of his nose and sniffed them, even closing his eyes in ecstasy before asking in a gruff voice.

He was asking about the dark-skinned, thin old man who had been guarding them last night, nicknamed "Fenyouming," a heavy smoker and addict.

"He's probably dead."