Hong Kong film: Rise of Prison Break

"Alas, why must we have known each other before we met..."

Zhang Wenjie's voice sounded remarkably calm in the blood-soaked room.

He grabbed Qian Wendi's mangled body by the collar and, like throwing a bag of trash, flung the still convulsing body out the window.

The body snapped through several tree branches with a sickening cracking sound, eventually becoming stuck and swaying between the branches.

He turned around and slowly brushed non-existent dust off his hands, the bloodstains on his white shirt cuff resembling blooming plum blossoms.

When Zhang Wenjie's gaze fell on Liu Yaozu, who was slumped in the corner, a half-smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"Don't you think so, Mr. Liu Yaozu?"

Liu Yaozu leaned against the mottled wall, his expensive suit stained with dust and blood.

The muscles in his face twitched, and his eyes, which had once been powerful in the business world, now held only the most primal fear.

It made a "hoarse" sound from its throat, like an old bellows.

"Who...who are you?" Liu Yaozu's voice trembled uncontrollably.

Zhang Wenjie didn't answer, but simply walked closer.

The leather shoes made a "tap, tap" sound on the wooden floor, each sound like a blow to Liu Yaozu's heart.

Several of Liu Yaozu's henchmen were huddled in the corner of the room, their faces pale and barely daring to breathe.

"Oh, right," Zhang Wenjie suddenly remembered something, squatted down in front of Liu Yaozu so their eyes were level, "your cheap father-in-law asked me to pass on a message to you."

He paused, staring at Liu Yaozu's suddenly contracting pupils, and said, word by word, "Splash your mother."

Before he could finish speaking, Zhang Wenjie's fist had already slammed into Liu Yaozu's abdomen.

The force was as heavy as an iron hammer. Liu Yaozu curled up like a shrimp, as if his internal organs had shifted.

He coughed up a mouthful of sour water and his legs went weak, causing him to kneel on the ground.

Zhang Wenjie reached out and grabbed Liu Yaozu's messy hair, forcing him to raise his head.

That face, contorted with pain, was right before my eyes, snot and tears mingling together.

"Don't worry," Zhang Wenjie's voice was as soft as if he were whispering sweet nothings, "you still have a great use for me, how could I bear to kill you now?"

His gaze swept to the other side of the room.

The crocodile man stood against the wall, his dark face clouded with gloom, his right hand unconsciously reaching for his waist—where a Black Star pistol was tucked.

The six or seven henchmen behind him were also on edge, and the room was filled with the smell of gunpowder that could explode at any moment.

"However," Zhang Wenjie released Liu Yaozu, letting him lie on the ground like a rag doll, and turned to look at Crocodile Man and his gang, "whether they live or die depends on your choices."

He raised his hand in a "please" gesture, his smile chillingly cold: "A wise man submits to circumstances. Crocodile, you're a smart guy, you know how to walk the path, don't I?"

The room was eerily quiet.

The sound of the wind outside the window, the meowing of stray cats in the distant alley, and even the heavy breathing of the crowd could be clearly heard.

The crocodile man's Adam's apple bobbed up and down, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

His gaze lingered on Zhang Wenjie's face for three seconds, then glanced at the swaying corpse in the tree outside the window, before finally settling on Zhang Wenjie's right hand—a hand casually tucked into his pocket, but the bulge in the pocket was clearly the butt of a gun.

To gamble, or not to gamble?

The images of the past few months flashed through Crocodile Man's mind: Liu Yaozu's imperious manner, the news of Qian Wendi being "specially treated" in prison, and the overwhelming force with which Zhang Wenjie stormed in alone tonight...

Most importantly, there was something in the eyes of the person in front of me—a calmness that only someone who has truly seen blood could possess.

"Bang!"

Suddenly, Crocodile Man kicked over a wooden stool beside him. To everyone's astonishment, he stepped forward and bowed ninety degrees to Zhang Wenjie: "Boss! Please guide me in the future!"

His underlings paused for a second, then reacted, bowing eagerly: "Boss! Please take care of us in the future!"

"Boss!"

The sounds were uneven, but they were exceptionally loud in the quiet night.

Liu Yaozu, who was lying on the ground, struggled to raise his head and looked at his subordinates who had been bowing and scraping to him just yesterday. His eyes were practically spitting fire.

"You...you traitors!" he roared, but his voice was as weak as a mosquito's buzz.

Zhang Wenjie nodded in satisfaction and casually dragged over a reasonably intact wooden stool to sit down.

He pulled a cigarette case from his shirt pocket, shook out a Marlboro, put it in his mouth, and lit it with a lighter with a "click." The orange-red flame illuminated half of his face, and smoke slowly rose.

"Just beat him half to death," he said casually, exhaling a smoke ring. "Leave him alive so we can question him."

As soon as he finished speaking, Crocodile Guy and his gang pounced on Liu Yaozu like hungry wolves who had received a royal decree.

The dull thuds of fists, kicks, and knees striking flesh instantly filled the entire room.

Liu Yaozu's screams were loud at first, but they were quickly reduced to whimpers as he was beaten.

Zhang Wenjie crossed his legs and leisurely became a spectator in the room filled with blood and screams.

The red glow of the cigarette butt flickered in the dim light, reflecting in his unfathomable eyes.

"Don't move! Prison guard!"

When the dilapidated wooden door was kicked open for the third time, the hinges finally gave way and collapsed with a loud crash.

Chung Cho-hung rushed in first, followed by Ma Chi-hung and four or five correctional officers from Stanley Prison.

Everyone was dressed in riot gear and holding batons, looking as if they were facing a formidable enemy.

However, the scene before them stunned them for a moment.

Crocodile Guy and his gang knelt on the ground in unison, hands behind their heads, their movements so synchronized it was as if they had rehearsed.

When the prison guards rushed in, instead of resisting, they shouted all at once, "Sir! We surrender!"

"Don't shoot! We're willing to cooperate!"

"It was all Liu Yaozu's fault that we were forced into this!"

Chung Chu-hsiung raised an eyebrow—he was very familiar with this scene.

He winked at Ma Zhixiong, who understood and led his men forward to handcuff the group of "well-behaved" suspects.

"Brother Xiong," a young correctional officer squatted down next to Liu Yaozu, whose face was swollen and almost unrecognizable, and shone a flashlight on it, whispering, "This person... doesn't he look like Liu Yaozu, the one who was featured in a financial magazine?"

"Oh?" Chung Cho-hung leaned closer for a look, his lips twitching. "It really is. Notify Stanley Ho to prepare a prison van, and also call a white van over. Don't let him die."

He stood up, looked around at the chaotic scene, his gaze lingered for a moment on the corpse outside the window, then swept over the still-dry bloodstain in the corner.

Then, Zhong Chuxiong did something that stunned his men—he squatted down, dipped his hand in the pool of blood on the floor, and then smeared it evenly on his face, neck, and uniform.

The movements were as practiced as applying skin cream.

"What are you all standing there for?" Zhong Chuxiong glared at the dumbfounded Ma Zhixiong and the others. "We went through a heart-stopping battle to subdue this group of premeditated and organized thugs! Do you understand?"