Did he trick the young marshal into becoming sworn brothers and then go south to Huangpu Military Ac

The dungeon door of the Longhua Garrison Command was wide open, and a musty, bloody smell mingled with the cold wind of early winter wafted out.

Two soldiers in gray uniforms dragged a heavy sack-like object to the mud pit outside the gate and casually tossed it aside.

Mud splashed high into the air, and several men dressed in short jackets immediately pounced on a dilapidated rickshaw that had been parked by the roadside.

The sack contained Boss Huang's money.

This former Green Gang godfather, who had wielded immense power in the French Concession for over a decade and had tens of thousands of followers, was now less than a stray dog.

The fine silk jacket was whipped into strips, dark red blood scabs mixed with mud, and his face was so swollen that it was unrecognizable. Four of his ten fingers were strangely twisted.

Several men hurriedly lifted him onto a rickshaw, pulled up the windproof curtain, and sped off towards the French Concession.

Huage Road, Du Mansion.

A very strong charcoal fire was burning in the inner room on the second floor.

Several familiar surgeons, their brows beaded with sweat, were treating the wound, cutting open the necrotic tissue, applying medicine, and bandaging it. The room was filled with the strong smell of medicine.

Du Yisheng, dressed in a light blue long robe, leaned against the shadows by the window, holding a string of small sandalwood prayer beads in his hand, his thumb unconsciously fiddling with them.

Gu Jiatang stood guard outside the door, while the courtyard downstairs was filled with Green Gang leaders whose faces were ashen.

Two full hours passed before the doctors finally left.

On the bed, Boss Huang barely opened his eyes, which were swollen to slits, and gasped for breath like a broken bellows. He turned his eyes and found the thin figure by the window.

"Yuesheng..." The voice was hoarse, like sandpaper polishing a tabletop.

Du Yisheng stopped what he was doing, walked to the bedside, and bent down.

"Brother, you've suffered. The doctor said there was no internal damage, and you'll be able to get out of bed in about six months."

With great effort, Boss Huang raised his unbroken hand, trying to grab Du Yisheng's sleeve, but he couldn't reach it and it fell slumped down. Two murky tears squeezed from the corner of his eye.

"We're brothers, no need for formalities. You saved my life with your money. That ruthless Lu Xiaojia wouldn't even open the jail door without hundreds of thousands of silver dollars. Yuesheng, you gave everything you had to save me, I'll remember this kindness to the death."

Du Yisheng looked at the once arrogant boss on the bed, his eyes filled not with emotion, but with a chilling coldness.

"Brother, you've got one thing wrong."

He straightened up, his hands tucked into his sleeves: "I didn't save you. I took ten boxes of large yellow croakers to Longhua, but I didn't even get close to the garrison command, let alone see Lu Xiaojia."

Boss Huang was stunned, his eyes fixed on the spot, and he even stopped breathing for a moment.

Not Du Yisheng?

In the entire Shanghai, who else could snatch someone from the only son of the Zhejiang military governor?

Du Yisheng turned around and looked at the sparks jumping in the charcoal brazier.

"A big shot has checked into the top floor of the Astor House Hotel. He's a tycoon who's returned from overseas and has connections that reach the heavens. Yesterday, Lu Xiaojia went to pay his respects to him. In front of this man, Young Master Lu didn't even dare to sit properly and served him tea and water. This man casually mentioned that the Lin family owed the Green Gang a favor twenty years ago and asked him to release you."

Du Yisheng turned his head and stared into Boss Huang's eyes.

"With just that one sentence, Lu Xiaojia released the man overnight. He didn't even glance at my gold bars, leaving me only a silver dollar as a token."

A deathly silence fell over the bed.

Having been in the business world for decades, Boss Huang knows the weight of these words better than anyone.

No need to pull strings or offer huge sums of money; a simple, understated sentence is enough to make the second-generation warlord, who holds military power, obediently bow his head.

This isn't about personal relationships; it's an absolute crushing defeat.

A powerful, turbulent dragon has arrived in Shanghai.

After the initial fear subsided, what surged within Boss Huang was an extremely strong will to survive and a burning greed.

He's too old. The Green Gang may seem powerful now, but in reality, it's being kicked around like a chamber pot by various warlords.

If we can get close to this powerful figure, who in the Jiangzhe region will dare to lay a finger on Boss Huang?

"Yuesheng..."

Boss Huang struggled to sit up, which aggravated his wounds, causing him to gasp in pain, but he gritted his teeth and said, "Prepare the car. Prepare the car immediately."

"Brother, you can't even get down on the ground."

"You have to carry me there, even if you have to!"

Boss Huang's voice suddenly rose, tinged with madness: "If I dared to lie in bed and pretend to be dead to someone with such connections, I'd have nowhere to stand in Shanghai tomorrow! Go open my vault! Bring everything!"

As night fell, the wind on the Huangpu River was bitterly cold.

Two black Ford sedans quietly pulled up outside the Astor House Hotel.

He didn't bring a large number of bodyguards, only Gu Jiatang and a few close confidants.

Several people carried Mr. Huang off the car on a stretcher and then put him in a wheelchair.

Boss Huang had a thick white bandage wrapped around his head, was dressed in an expensive mink coat, and was clutching a sandalwood box tightly in his hands.

The box contained not gold bars, but 60% of the shares in the Great World amusement park, the land deeds for five prime shops on Avenue Joffre in the French Concession, and two pairs of blue-and-white porcelain bowls from the Xuande period of the Ming Dynasty.

This is most of his wealth that he can afford to contribute.

The elevator goes directly to the top floor.

The corridor was extremely quiet.

Zhao Sihai, dressed in a suit, stood outside the presidential suite with his hands behind his back. He frowned when he saw the wheelchair being pushed over.

Du Yisheng took two quick steps forward and whispered a few words.

Zhao Sihai gave the wheelchair-bound Boss Huang a cold glance, then turned and pushed open half of the door to go in and report.

I waited for a full half hour.

There was no brazier in the corridor, and a cold draft seeped in through the cracks in the windows.

Boss Huang had already been severely tortured, and now he was in so much pain that he was sweating profusely. His clothes inside his mink coat were completely soaked, but he didn't utter a sound or even a groan. He just gritted his teeth and endured it.

The door finally opened.

Du Yisheng pushed the wheelchair and tiptoed inside. The lighting in the reception room was dim.

Lin Qi, wearing a silk bathrobe, leaned back in a large leather sofa, holding a copy of the North China Daily News in his hand, with a cup of long-cold black tea on the coffee table next to him.

Hearing the sound of the wheelchair, Lin Qi didn't look up, his gaze remaining fixed on the English version of the newspaper; the only sound in the room was the rustling of the pages turning.

Du Yisheng stopped in her tracks, not daring to go any further.

Despite the excruciating pain, Boss Huang picked up the sandalwood box with both hands, his voice trembling and full of obsequiousness.

"Mr. Lin... I was blind and offended Young Master Lu. I am deeply grateful for your great kindness in pulling me back from the brink of death. I could never repay this debt of gratitude, even if I were to die. This is just a small token of my appreciation, but I beg you to accept it."

The newspaper obscured Lin Qi's face, and he didn't respond.

The air seemed to freeze.

Boss Huang's hand holding the box began to tremble uncontrollably. A piercing pain shot through his severed finger, rushing up his arm and straight to his head, but he dared not put it down, and he didn't even dare to breathe loudly.

This silent contempt was more despairing than Lu Xiaojia's whip.

It was telling Boss Huang in a clear and unambiguous way: your gang status and immense wealth, which you cherish as your lifeblood, are worthless in my eyes.

I turned another page of the newspaper.

Lin Qi finally spoke, his voice low and extremely calm.

"Put it there."