Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

The next day, news of the Black Tiger Gang's annihilation spread like a cold, blood-stained autumn wind throughout the streets and alleys of Linhe County.

In the streets and alleys, in teahouses and taverns, everyone was whispering to each other, their faces filled with surprise and uncertainty.

There were ordinary people who applauded, wealthy families who felt a sense of shared sorrow, and countless speculations that grew increasingly outlandish.

The police hastily cordoned off the streets where the Black Tiger Gang's headquarters was located, but the overwhelming stench of blood and the barely visible mess had already leaked out through the cracks in the doors and walls, becoming the perfect spice for the rumors.

When the sun was high in the sky, a gleaming black Ford car stopped outside the cordon.

The car door opened, and a middle-aged man dressed in a dark blue silk robe slowly stepped out of the car.

He was Song Li, not a county government official, but with a mysterious background. Even the county magistrate would bow and address him as Mr. Song.

By this time, the bloodstains covering the courtyard had begun to turn black and congeal.

Although the severed limbs and broken arms had been roughly gathered and covered, the shocking traces still lingered.

Mr. Song's gaze slowly swept across the entire room, his expression gradually darkening from its initial calm.

It wasn't out of fear or disgust, but out of anger and the gloom of something slipping out of control.

The Black Tiger Gang, that dog, had just been put in a secure collar by him using special methods, and in the blink of an eye, he was killed, and even his den was wiped out.

Moreover, he told Zhou Wenren last night that the Black Tiger Gang matter had been resolved, and this incident happened immediately. Isn't that a slap in the face?

"Tell me in detail." Song Li's voice was not loud, but it carried a chill.

The coroner and the head constable rushed forward and reported nervously: the dead were all killed with a single blow, and the wounds were extremely sharp and smooth, not caused by ordinary swords.

Lei Laohu was beheaded, Scarface was almost split in two, and the rest of the gang members were hit in vital areas such as the neck or abdomen.

The property losses were severe, especially since Lei Laohu's bedroom was completely empty.

Mr. Song walked to Lei Laohu's headless corpse, squatted down, and carefully examined the severed neck, ignoring the filth, and then checked the horrific wound on the scarred man next to him.

He made a wisp of his finger in the air, simulating the trajectory and angle that caused the wound, his brows furrowing more and more tightly.

"This isn't the way of the martial arts world," he muttered to himself, standing up and walking towards the bedroom.

Apart from a few empty boxes and scattered miscellaneous items, everything else had already been moved out.

"Mr. Song, what about the Inspection Department..." The police captain hesitated, as if he wanted to say something but then stopped.

"What did the Inspection Department say?" Mr. Song looked up.

"Captain Yue seemed to have made some discoveries in the south of the city last night. He had a brief exchange with someone, but the opponent's movements were unpredictable, and he was unable to intercept him."

"Even Yue Shan's personal intervention couldn't leave anything behind?" A cold smile curled at the corner of Mr. Song's lips. "Well, it seems a master who doesn't know the rules has truly arrived in our small county. He specifically targets the courtyard that I, Song, have just tended."

He turned around, his tone icy and unquestionable: "Investigate. First, all the strangers the Black Tiger Gang has recently come into contact with, especially those who don't seem to be involved in the underworld."

"Secondly, all pawnshops, jewelry stores, and antique shops in and around the county should keep a close eye on any large or suspicious transactions."

"Third, increase manpower at the docks, stations, and major exits from the city to keep an eye out for people with unusual behavior."

After saying that, he stopped looking at the mess in the room, turned around and walked straight to the black car outside the door.

"Pah! What's with the attitude?" A young police officer, whose face still looked somewhat boyish, spat in the direction of the car. "He's not even our chief, yet he acts more imposing than the chief when he's ordering people around! What does he take us for?"

"That's right, we brothers have been busy all morning without even having a sip of water, and he just drives over in his car, gesturing wildly, covering his nose and complaining about how dirty it is, then pats his butt and leaves!" Another slightly older police officer couldn't help but complain as well, kicking a nearby pebble hard.

Captain Wang, who was leading the team, had just seen Song Li off and was feeling extremely overwhelmed when he turned around and heard his subordinates complaining. His face immediately darkened: "Shut up, all of you! Don't you want to work here anymore? You dare to spout off whatever comes to mind!"

The officers were startled and shut up, but their resentment was still evident in their eyes.

Captain Wang glanced around and, seeing only his own men nearby, lowered his voice even further, "Do you know who that was just now? Mr. Song! Song Li!"

"I know, he's just someone with connections..." the young police officer muttered.

"He has connections?" Captain Wang sneered, pointing to the ceiling. "Don't even mention our bureau chief, even County Magistrate Zhou would have to treat him with respect and address him as Mr. Song."

"If I hear any more of those brainless things again, I'll slap you across the face."

Captain Wang gave everyone a warning before riding off on his worn-out bicycle, leaving several officers standing there looking at each other in bewilderment.

The young officer scratched the back of his head, still somewhat resentful, but his voice was much lower: "The captain is being far too cautious..."

Another seasoned officer, who hadn't said much until now, slowly lit a cheap cigarette, took a deep drag, and said, "Kid, you've only been in the station for two years, right? The waters in Linhe County run deep."

. . . . . .

Funeral Street, Du'e Zhai.

As usual, Chen Mozhao opened the door early and got up to clean the area in front of the door.

His face was even paler than yesterday, almost to the point of being bloodless.

After sweeping the two steps at the entrance, I was already panting heavily.

He steadied himself against the doorframe for a while before finally settling back into the old rattan chair in the shop. He pulled out a small celadon bottle from his pocket, his hand trembling so badly that he nearly dropped the pills.

This bottle of medicine was found in the Black Tiger Gang's secret chamber; it's a Qi-boosting pill to replenish essence and blood, and its market price is ten silver dollars a bottle.

After finally taking the medicine and closing my eyes to rest for a while, the noise outside surged in, growing louder and louder.

Across the street, the owner of Fushou Coffin Shop, Mr. Zhao, had the loudest voice, his tone laced with a boastful glee: "...Serves them right! They fucking deserve it! Heaven has eyes! They even spared a piece of golden nanmu? Bah! Letting them rot in the streets and feed to stray dogs is too lenient!"

Old Li, who was selling incense and paper money nearby, lowered his voice to lower his tone: "Brother Zhao, keep your voice down... But speaking of which, is it... that we don't need to pay the monthly sanitation management fee anymore?"

"Hand them over? Hand them over my ass!" Boss Zhao spat. "Everyone's dead. Are you going to hand them over to the King of Hell?"

"Are they all really dead?"

"The ones who could fight are all dead, and the few left who are just petty thieves won't amount to anything."

At this moment, the shopkeepers of several shops on the street gathered around, their sallow faces showing a rare lightness of relief after being relieved of their burdens.

Chen Mo sat in the dimly lit shop, listening to the discussions. His face was still pale, and his fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of the rattan chair, the rhythm a little erratic.

Suddenly, the chatter at the street corner subsided eerily.