Just when I thought everything was ready, that only the east wind was lacking, I never imagined that the very moment my Black God Gang’s strength was sufficient to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the major factions of Huaxia, a massive variable would enter my life. This variable nearly caused my death, entirely due to this Black Dragon Society. Yet, I harbor both love and hate for them: hate, because they harmed me; love, because had their strength not been so formidable, I would never have truly awakened, and the Black God Gang would never have become an unbreakable legend under my leadership. — Recollections of Yang Yi

“Young Master, must we really agree to his terms?” Feng Shi asked Yang Yi, who sat deep in thought in his office.

“Yanran, do you find this matter a bit strange?” Yang Yi asked, his eyes gently closed.

“Yes, according to what Zhou Hu said, it is indeed a good thing for us, but I just feel like this might not be so simple,” Feng Shi replied, puffing out her lovely cheeks in contemplation.

Yang Yi glanced at her, stood up, and walked over to her side. Before she could react, he enveloped her tightly from behind.

“Ah—Young Master!” Feng Shi’s face flushed crimson, and she let out a soft moan.

“Hmm?” Yang Yi encircled the body—a physique that could drive the world mad—with his arms, but for now, she was enough to drive him mad.

Kissing the lobe of her ear, stirring her desires, his hands moved like an advancing general, relentlessly attacking. Feng Shi felt the burgeoning desire beneath his clothes, causing her face to grow even more radiant. Yet, Yang Yi’s touch left her drained of strength, her breath catching rapidly as she exhaled delicate floral scents, murmuring with great effort, “Young... Young Master, don’t... don’t... Mmm... not here, please don’t...”

Hearing her, the wicked curve of Yang Yi’s mouth intensified. His erection was already standing tall enough to pierce the sky. If Li Qian was a seductive enchantress, and Xia Shiyun a poetic beauty, then Feng Shi was a sensual goddess. Whether perceived emanating from her or felt up close, this intoxicating essence was the most fatal lure for any rogue like him. Feng Shi was already brimming with passion, subtly shifting her hips, her face flushed, panting heavily. She turned, wrapping her arms around Yang Yi’s neck, offering him her fiery red lips, and the two lovers became deeply entangled.

####################

At this moment, Zhou Hu had returned to the headquarters of the Black Society.

“Gang Leader, where were you just now? Should we strike now or wait?” Zhao Qing asked Zhou Hu.

A chill swept through Zhou Hu’s heart as he replied, “No, none of us will make a move today. Send the order down: whether low-ranking members or core personnel, everyone must assemble before dawn.”

Hearing this, Zhao Qing was very puzzled, unsure what trick Zhou Hu was planning. He couldn’t help but ask, “Gang Leader, what exactly are you planning by doing this...?”

“You don’t need to ask questions; just get it done immediately~~~!” Zhou Hu commanded with a sweep of his hand.

“Yes!” Zhao Qing acknowledged and walked out. But the moment he turned away, a cold glint flashed in his eyes. He thought to himself, Where exactly did he go? Why the sudden change of heart? Could it be... With another thought taking shape, Zhao Qing strode out.

“Alas—Old Zhao, I never thought that after accompanying me for so many years, you would still be a traitor. And—alas, should I keep you, or should I not?” Zhou Hu’s expression was one of deep bewilderment, his heart clearly aching.

Indeed, a brother who had stood by him for years, who had poured sweat and blood into building this empire, had turned out to be someone else’s lapdog. There was no doubt about it; it was heartbreaking.

“It seems my actions are correct. Black God Gang—Black God Gang, I leave this matter to you. I hope you have the strength to stand against them,” Zhou Hu said, his tone somber, his eyes filled with resentment.

It turned out that Zhou Hu was fully aware of the current situation within the Black Society. Zhao Qing had connections to the Japanese Black Dragon Society organization, and what Zhou Hu knew was that Zhao Qing was colluding with them. The Black Dragon Society was a small force based in Southeast Asia, and due to their Japanese origin, developing in Huaxia was difficult. However, with their assassination skills and the backing of a powerful ninja family, their strength could not be underestimated. What Zhou Hu did not know was that Zhao Qing was, in fact, Japanese, and years spent by his side had been nothing but a conspiracy, the consequences of which Zhou Hu could never have anticipated.

Zhou Hu's purpose in visiting Yang Yi tonight was to ask him for a favor: to leverage the combined power of the Black Society and the Black God Gang to jointly attack, or even eliminate, the Black Dragon Society. While this was selfish and difficult—since Zhou Hu couldn't gauge the true might of the Black Dragon Society—he had offered Yang Yi an irresistible condition: handing over the Black Society entirely.

To make such a decision, it was certain that Zhou Hu believed his own son had been killed by the Japanese. After all, he had been deceiving himself for half a year. In truth, six months ago, Zhou Hu had already sensed that his son was different from the Zhou Ming of the past. Perhaps it was the bond of blood, but after meeting the imposter Zhou Ming one last time tonight, Zhou Hu finally made his final resolution: to bring utter chaos to the Black Dragon Society.

Zhao Qing quickly dispatched the order as instructed by Zhou Hu: ‘A decree to all members of the Black Society: everyone must assemble within Jiangsu by dawn to await further arrangements!’

This order immediately sent ripples of unrest throughout the entire Black Society. Although many members murmured amongst themselves—Has something happened to the Black Society? Are they preparing to declare war on another faction?—the constant discussion spread beyond the rank-and-file members, tightening everyone’s nerves. This was no joke; war meant bloodshed, and only with tightly strung nerves could one maintain the composure necessary to fight or even kill—a thought process ingrained in those who survived in the underworld. Anyone timid, prone to fear, or outright cowardly, wouldn't last long in the gang.

“I guess I need to call the Black Master,” Zhao Qing thought to himself while sitting in his office.

Just as he reached for the phone, a figure materialized inside his office. “Lord Yamamoto?”

“Oh, it’s you.” A cold smirk flashed across Zhao Qing’s face upon seeing the visitor. “You’ve arrived at the perfect moment.”

“Sir?” The visitor was a masked ninja, his face entirely obscured, though his voice identified him as a man deeply familiar with Yang Yi.

“Go immediately and inform the Black Master that... I suspect Zhou Hu is about to betray me. Ever since he returned from the Black Master’s presence, his entire demeanor has shifted!” Zhao Qing instructed.

“Yes, I understand,” the ninja replied respectfully before vanishing.

After the ninja disappeared, Zhao Qing muttered to himself, “Zhou Hu, whatever scheme you’re hatching now, it’s likely too late. Hmph, if persuasion fails, I’ll resort to force.” With that, he stood up and walked out, where he went only he knew.

After an interval of serpentine, lingering intimacy, the two were now dressed. Feng Shi gave Yang Yi a deeply resentful look, thinking to herself, The Young Master is too much... he’s so... strong!

Sensing her thoughts, Yang Yi offered a gentle smile and said, “Darling, why don’t you go clean up first?”

“Mmm...” Feng Shi replied, blushing deeply, and walked out.

Yang Yi adjusted his clothes, a distinctly sinister smile playing on his lips. Sitting back in his chair, he slowly reviewed documents. Time ticked by, his brow furrowed deeper than three times its usual pattern.

It was then that Han Zhong entered from outside and called out to Yang Yi, “Dragon Lord, everything is arranged.”

“Good. Have we received word from the Thirty-Six Heavenly Spirits and the Seventy-Two Earthly Fiends?” Yang Yi asked.

“Yes. Zhou Hu has issued the decree; all Black Society personnel must assemble by tomorrow morning,” Han Zhong reported.

“Excellent. Tomorrow, bring all our forces. We’re heading to Jiangsu,” Yang Yi said, his face wreathed in smiles.

“Yes!” Han Zhong acknowledged.

“Tomorrow will bring a change of the heavens, ha ha! For my Black God Gang to stand among the major factions of Huaxia—that will be no small feat,” Yang Yi declared, his smile radiating an almost malevolent energy.

In Yang Yi’s mind, he knew perfectly well. Tomorrow would be a shocking day, not only because the Black Society would merge under the banner of the Black God Gang but also because it meant declaring war on that organization from R Country—the Black Dragon Society. None of this could be contained. Every action the Black God Gang took tomorrow would cause national upheaval, and only then could Yang Yi clearly see how many enemies he truly possessed.

As the saying goes, one must look far ahead, and the stage will expand in accordance with one’s vision. Only from the highest perch can one truly see how many enemies exist—and how many one can eliminate, perhaps even unifying the nation and ascending to an even greater peak.