Hong Kong film: Rise of Prison Break

This is why Zhang Wenjie repeatedly harassed Da Mi in prison, even going so far as to create conflict and give the two of them the opportunity to be put in solitary confinement.

He needs to thoroughly understand this "pawn's" past, weaknesses, and exploitable value.

As for Qian Wendi, that self-proclaimed clever little guy... Zhang Wenjie sneered inwardly.

Why don't those con artists think about why they were chosen by Liu Yaozu?

Why was the "prison break" plan so "smooth"?

Why was it him who "just happened" to gain Robinson's trust and was "just happened" to be led to safety by "Big Meow"?

Behind everything going too smoothly, there is often a deeper web hidden.

"What are you looking at, you old geezer! You think I won't gouge your eyes out?!"

A drunken, insulting shout pulled Zhang Wenjie back to reality from his brief reverie.

Perhaps with some kind of system assistance, his senses instantly perceived a clear, malicious gaze coming from a certain direction to the side and front.

He instinctively and slowly turned his head away.

The one who swore was one of the Hung Hing thugs at the next table, a blond-haired guy with an earring, whose face was flushed from drinking.

He might have thought Zhang Wenjie's dazed look towards them was "impolite," or perhaps he was simply drunk and wanted to show off in front of his brother and the waitress.

Zhang Wenjie's previously absent-minded expression instantly changed when he saw the provocative look in the blond thug's eyes.

It was an almost frenzied sense of excitement, like a sleeping beast being awakened.

His mouth stretched into a long, eerie line of flesh, as if he were smiling, yet it was utterly cold.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, revealing his gleaming white teeth that reflected a cold light under the neon lights.

His eyes, like those of a hawk eyeing its prey, were fixed precisely and unblinkingly on the thug who harbored ill intentions towards him.

His voice wasn't loud, but it had a metallic, scraping quality that clearly pierced through the surrounding noise and reached the blond thug's ears: "You...are you talking to me?"

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

The diners at the next few tables seemed to sense something was wrong, and they all lowered their voices.

Holding the menu, Wu Tingting looked over here somewhat uneasily.

"You old bastard! How dare you dine and dash? Don't you know whose territory this is?!"

The three thugs suddenly stood up, their chair legs scraping against the concrete floor with a screeching sound.

The leader had dyed blond hair, and his lean body was wrapped in a tight vest. The blue dragon and white tiger tattoos on his arms looked menacing under the dim light.

The alcohol made their eyes red, and the three of them staggered and surrounded the man sitting alone at the table, forming a pincer movement.

In the center of the table, the man known as "Old Dead Ghost" remained completely still.

Zhang Wenjie—who at this moment had a face full of flesh and a scar at the corner of his eye—slowly shook a cigarette out of the crumpled cigarette box and gently tapped it on the edge of the table.

With a "click," the lighter produced a flame that illuminated the fleeting mockery in his eyes.

He had a cigarette dangling from his lips, and out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the container full of bamboo chopsticks on the corner of the table, a cold smile curving his lips.

"Whose territory?" He exhaled a puff of smoke, his voice hoarse like sandpaper rubbing against sheet metal.

This face belonging to "Big Mimi" already had a fierce look, and coupled with that nonchalant and arrogant tone, the effect was simply ferocious.

"Still playing dumb?!"

The blond-haired thug slammed his hand heavily on the table, sending bowls and plates flying with a crash, and soup splashing everywhere.

His other hand was outstretched, his index finger almost poking Zhang Wenjie's nose.

"You want to dine and dash and then cause trouble, huh? You dare to cause trouble on Hung Hing's turf! What gang are you from?!"

A strong, pungent odor of bad breath mixed with the sour smell of minced garlic and cheap beer hit me.

The nonchalant smile on Zhang Wenjie's face froze instantly.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a cold glint flashed, seemingly crimson in the afterglow of the neon lights.

"court death."

His left hand shot out like lightning, its five fingers gripping the wrist of the blond man's hand that was slamming on the table like iron clamps. With a swift downward press, he slammed the man's palm firmly onto the greasy tabletop.

At the same time, reach into the chopstick holder with your right hand, and precisely pick out two bamboo chopsticks with your middle and index fingers, then grip them with your other hand, with the tips pointing downwards.

Without the slightest hesitation.

His arm left a blur as it slammed down with tremendous force!

"Pfft—Thump!"

The dull thuds of bamboo chopsticks piercing flesh, punching through metacarpal bones, and chiseling into the wooden tabletop exploded almost simultaneously.

Blood droplets splattered along the grain of the bamboo chopsticks, blooming into dazzling red plum blossoms on the yellow and white tabletop.

Just as the scream was about to escape his throat, Zhang Wenjie's left hand, which was gripping his neck, suddenly tightened, veins bulging, forcefully choking the wail into silence.

The blond-haired man's face turned a deep liver color, his eyes bulged out, and he made a strange "clucking" sound from his throat.

"Hahaha..." Zhang Wenjie suddenly laughed, his voice carrying a chilling lightness. "Sorry, I'm a novice, I didn't control my strength well."

He tilted his head, examining his work like a meticulous craftsman, and asked, "Shall we...do it again?"

Before he finished speaking, his right hand loosened and swiftly pulled a new chopstick from the tube.

"laugh!"

The second chopstick, close to the first, pierced through the palm again and embedded itself deeply into the table.

"Ah—!! Help me!!" The excruciating pain finally broke through the blockage in his throat, and the blond-haired man screamed in agony, tears and snot streaming down his face.

"Save you?" Zhang Wenjie released his left hand from the throat, then grabbed the blond-haired man's hair at the back of his head and slammed it down!

"Bang!"

His face collided solidly with the wooden table, and the crisp sound of his nose bone cracking could be clearly heard.

Blood mixed with snot and tears splattered everywhere, covering the ground around them.

The blond-haired man collapsed limply, slumped over the edge of the table, and could only twitch.

The crowd of onlookers all took two steps back in unison, gasping in astonishment.

Only the food stall owner, the bald middle-aged man with a dirty apron, was still leaning against the stove, smoking slowly, squinting at "Big Mimi's" face, seemingly lost in thought.

"Damn it! Let's fight him!" The remaining two thugs, their blood boiling and eyes bloodshot, grabbed the folding stools at their feet and charged forward, howling.

The stool was swung around with a whooshing sound, but without any rhyme or reason.

Zhang Wenjie sidestepped the first stool that came crashing down, then lashed out with his left hand like a whip, the back of his hand and knuckles striking the first person's temple with deadly force.

The man collapsed to the ground without uttering a sound.

Then, with a clean over-the-shoulder throw, he slammed another charging guy to the ground, sending dust flying.

Before the other man could get up, Zhang Wenjie kicked him hard, sending him sliding more than three meters away like a broken sack, crashing into two empty tables before finally stopping.