Chapter 121: Screw Them All

"Damn, I didn't realize you police and criminals were in bed together! But I like it!"

Lin Dapao, who had been using a police uniform to dry his hair, chimed in. Song Nianqiang, however, did not share his leisure. Frowning, he stared at the Chief and said, word for word, "Take me there now, and it might still be in time. If we’re any later, I’m afraid your career as Chief will truly be over."

The Chief was overjoyed; with Song Nianqiang’s help, his position could at least be saved. Do not blame Song Nianqiang for aiding the Chief—the current system was just like that. Good officials were hard to find across the country, and corruption had become a prerequisite for holding office. Of course, good officials still existed, but they were buried in the masses, unknown to the public.

"Alright! I’ll take you right now!" The Chief jumped up, grabbed his car keys from the desk, and hurried toward the door. Song Nianqiang had intended to change clothes first, but it seemed there was no time for that now.

Lin Dapao looked reluctant. He had wanted to stay and warm up, but Song Nianqiang dragged him into the car. He sat in the back of the police cruiser, his hair still damp, wearing a miserable expression.

The Chief was in a desperate rush, driving at breakneck speed. A thirty-minute journey took only ten. By the time they arrived, many officers were already surrounding the hospital entrance. Inside, beyond the white-clad medical staff, the area was dominated by tattooed thugs with fierce, menacing faces, ready to brawl at the slightest provocation.

"Move! Everyone move!" The Chief cleared a path, shoving aside the officers and reporters blocking his way, and pushed through, followed closely by Song Nianqiang, the Big Fatty, and Lin Dapao.

"Call Bozi out here! Tell him the Chief of Police wants to see him!" The Chief was truly desperate now, resorting to his official title. But the thugs blocking the way showed no respect. They were no longer the small-time hoodlums they once were; they had found an organization and, under the leadership of Cang Ying, were growing stronger by the day.

"Get lost, old man! Don't put on those official airs in front of me. I’m not buying it!" A bald man stepped forward, brandishing a machete. One look at the material told you it was a cheap piece of junk, nothing compared to the blade held by that man in white.

The bald man sneered, his tone filled with disdain. The Chief was so infuriated he nearly ascended to heaven in a rage, tempted to draw his service pistol and end it, but he ultimately restrained himself.

"Let me handle this. I'll take care of it, but I won't do it for free," Song Nianqiang said calmly. His implication was clear: having been Chief for so many years, he must have some savings. If I help you keep your job, you should be willing to bleed a little.

The Chief was a veteran at this game and understood perfectly. Still, he felt a strange bitterness; usually, he was the one saying such things to others. Now that the roles were reversed, it left a sour taste in his mouth.

"One hundred thousand!" The Chief lowered his head, thought for a few seconds, and quickly gave his answer. Song Nianqiang laughed, and quite heartily at that. "I’m helping you overcome this crisis, which will at least give you another ten years before retirement, perhaps even a promotion. Do you really think one hundred thousand is enough to buy ten years of smooth sailing?"

"Fine, I'll pay one million, but I want you to help me become the Town Mayor!" Seeming to have made a grave decision, the Chief blurted out a number that even surprised Song Nianqiang. However, Song Nianqiang couldn't accept. He was just an ordinary student; even if he had many acquaintances in the county, he couldn't interfere in the political arena. He refused firmly.

"A million is indeed a large sum, but I cannot help you with that, nor am I able to. How about this: I’ll resolve this matter for you, and you pay me three hundred thousand. I think that price is quite reasonable for you!" Song Nianqiang glanced at the Chief, seeing the agonizing expression on his face.

Three hundred thousand gone just like that—it would be a lie to say he wasn't heartbroken. But without Song Nianqiang’s help, he could never resolve this situation cleanly. The Chief nodded, and with a deflated tone, said to Song Nianqiang, "Alright, I agree. But you must handle this beautifully!"

Hearing the confirmation, Song Nianqiang smiled and brushed past the Chief. "Bozi, let me in!" Song Nianqiang stood before the gang and shouted toward the hospital building. No sooner had he finished than Bozi appeared at a second-story window, yelling down, "Let him in! Quickly!" One could tell from Bozi's voice that his son was in critical condition.

"Let's go. Remember, you owe me three hundred thousand. I’m a man who values money more than life, haha!" With that, he led the Big Fatty and Lin Dapao through the line of thugs.

On the way, Lin Dapao was curious about what Song Nianqiang had done. "Is this how you make money, kid? I heard you're already a millionaire!" Lin Dapao had no concept of money. He had lived in the countryside since he was small, and after growing up, his master kept him close to prevent him from causing trouble. He often heard people talk about millionaires, and since they were called "millionaires," they must be very rich.

He lacked a concept of money because his master had no children. His first disciple had supposedly attained ascension, leaving only Lin Dapao. When his master had made his name, he had acquired so much wealth he couldn't even count it. Once, on a whim, he checked his bank balance and got dizzy looking at the string of zeros. He gave up trying to count them after a while.

His master lived a frugal life, with no hobbies other than buying good wine. Thus, this eye-watering fortune fell to Lin Dapao. But Lin Dapao wasn't good at managing money either; whenever he needed cash, he just went to the bank and withdrew a suitcase full. As for how much was in a suitcase, he truly had no idea.

"What millionaire? We usually make money catching ghosts, and occasionally sell some talismans for extra cash. This is the first time I've done something like this, but it feels pretty good!" Song Nianqiang walked in the lead, grinning, with the Big Fatty and Lin Dapao flanking him.

"You make money catching ghosts? Isn't that exciting? My life is boring as hell. Have you considered letting me join you? Think about it!" Lin Dapao’s desire to join was purely a whim to find some excitement. Song Nianqiang naturally wouldn't agree, but he wouldn't refuse outright either, so he wore a mischievous grin. "You want excitement, huh? I know a place that will definitely be exciting for you!"

"Oh? Where? Tell me!" Lin Dapao’s eyes lit up at the word 'excitement,' and he grabbed Song Nianqiang’s arm. "Hehe, if you have plenty of money, there's Las Vegas. If your hands are itching, go to Japan. Once you're there, go to a place called the Yasukuni Shrine. If you see anyone paying respects there, just take them out. That’ll guarantee you constant excitement!"

"Pfft! Do you think I'm an idiot? If I went there, with my dashing, heartthrob good looks, I’d be mobbed by the women there and never be able to get up! When I'm bored at home, I watch their adult films. The protagonists are so monotonous—sometimes one man and one woman, sometimes a group of men and one woman. A group of women and one man is rare."

He changed his tone abruptly. "But that suggestion of yours is great; I really like it. I'm almost thirty, but I'm still a standard patriotic firebrand! Fuck their mothers!!!" The final sentence highlighted what Lin Dapao intended to do once he was finished with this current matter. Given Lin Dapao's prowess, Song Nianqiang could only offer a moment of silence for that island nation.