‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Keung bowed to the nurse as she handed him his gear. Holding his armour, coat, cap, and pants in a pile, he walked to the nearest elevators. Echoes of last night’s news from Ho Man Ting haunted his memory. The tower was abuzz — Kingmakers rushing in every direction, concern on their faces. Many headed to the King Rail docks, presumably towards Ho Man Ting. Keung felt out of the loop and yearned for an update.
I wonder what the others are up to, he wondered.
He limped back to his quarters in the royal palace of Yu Tower. His muscles ached, and every breath hurt his ribs. His left knee, the one that broke, gave him a strange sensation whenever he bent it. Nested on the highest floors of the tower, the palace was a birthright to his noble lineage, the Yaozhi Dynasty. Nearby were the bedrooms of General Denzhen, his cousins Prince Tsai and Princess Aisin, and the Emperor and Empress. These upper floors were the Yaozhi home for generations, with empty rooms in between reserved for future Yaozhi’s — potential children of Keung, Aisin, and Tsai.
Keung knocked on his father’s bedroom door, but it was locked — he was out on duty. Keung entered his own room, the sight of his bed tempting him, though he had been lying down since yesterday. Despite his fatigue, what Keung craved was a shower. Moving caused his shirt to stick to his skin from half-dried sweat, and his hair was matted with bodily greases.
Keung dropped his clothes on his study chair and walked to the bathroom. The cool tiles under his feet echoed his journey as he stripped down, discarding his clothes into the laundry chute. Approaching the sink, Keung glanced at the rectangular mirror above it to see if he had any scars from his injuries, remembering that the new EM machines were supposedly able to remove them all. Seeing the truth right before his eyes, Keung acknowledged that it was a testament to the miracles of his uncle’s Zhaisheng. Technology was starting to resemble reality out of fiction.
But this momentary marvel was dashed by the apparent reality of his declining physique. The separation between each muscle was fading. His abs, once sharply defined, now blurred into his tummy. His chest drooped subtly, and faint hints of a softer waistline replaced the once pronounced ‘V’ shape. It was still a body many in Kowloon would envy, yet it was a reminder of Keung’s departure from the rigorous physical standards of a Kingmaker. Ever since he was assigned the task of hunting down Yang leaders, Keung could hardly get time to train at the dojo. The only chance to do physical exercise was on the field, and unfortunately for Keung, the Yang were good at staying away from it.
His beard was stubbly, not too sparse, not too dense — just the way he liked it. He abhorred a clean-shaven look as much as the itchiness of a full beard. Rotating his face and inspecting his jaw, he found the length still acceptable. With a final glance at his reflection, he retreated to the shower.
Minutes passed as Keung relaxed amongst the blanketing mist of the shower. In the soothing rhythm of falling water, he nearly missed the faint vibrations echoing from the sink.
Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.
It was his holo buzzing. The tech adornment on the forearm of all Yu district Kingmakers, a priceless tool that elevated the Kings above every other gang member. This multipurpose gadget — a communicator, encrypter, digital pad, and super processor rolled into one - was the epitome of cutting-edge engineering. Its open-source software, exclusive to the Kings, allowed them to harness its superior architecture to craft their own programs. Once designed, it could be shared on the cloud for all Kingmakers to download, use, or alter.
Emerging from the shower, water droplets cascading off his skin, Keung moved towards the sink and answered his holocommunicator.
‘Lieutenant Keung!’ It was Shen, captain of the 2nd cohort. Some members of his detachment hailed from his tutelage.
‘Captain, it’s good to hear from you. How are you?’
‘Lieutenant,’ Shen said. ‘As I’ve mentioned numerous times, you can address me as Shen. Your rank has outstripped mine for quite some time now.’
‘Age, Captain, lends a wisdom that can’t be outranked,’ Keung replied respectfully. ‘Your years and experience will always outstrip mine.’
‘Your humility is a mirror of your father’s, Lieutenant.’
Keung felt discomfort being addressed by his rank rather than his name by the captain. Captain Shen had been his superior all his life. It reminded him of the controversial topic of Keung’s nepotism, shooting past all his masters within the last few annui-cycles.
‘I heard you were discharged from the infirmary. Have your injuries been patched up? Are you holding up okay?’
‘I am, thank you, Captain. Was there something you needed?’ Keung queried.
‘Yes…a visitor is asking for you. Not by name, but he’s seeking the lead investigator on the Yang activity in Yau, which just happens to be you.’
‘And what’s the name of this visitor?’
‘I believe it is a ‘Shizhou Han’, sent by the Luen siblings. He refuses to give any more information beyond that.’
‘Han…’ Keung echoed, brows furrowed. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell, Captain.’
‘He says it will make more sense when he speaks to you privately.’
‘Could you direct him to Cheng?’
‘Cheng is still in the south. He’s with your father assisting the Tien Tao from last night.’
Keung’s eyes widened. ‘Cheng and Ba were in Ho Man Ting?’
‘The reports suggest that your entire team was present. If I remember right, they were the first to respond.’
The sting of regret bit Keung; he should have been there alongside his team.
‘I see. Thank you, captain. Are you currently in the ground floor lobby?’
‘Yes, sir. By the western elevators.’
Keung winced at the salutation by his former superior. Yet another reminder of the biting accusations of nepotism against him.
‘Understood. I’ll be there in ten minutes. In the meantime, offer Han some cha if he’s inclined.’
‘Already ahead of you, Lieutenant. He’s sipping on it as we speak. I’ll expect you in ten.’
The holo call ended, and Keung set the device on the sink. He stepped back into the shower and quickly finished rinsing off. Soon, he stood in the bathroom, water dripping down his legs. The warmth from the heaters relaxed him, but he saw on his holocommunicator that he had less than five minutes to meet the captain. He dried off, wrapped a towel around his waist, and returned to his bedroom. Opening his closet, he found his freshly laundered Kingmaker uniform hanging neatly inside, just as he had hoped.
He took it off the hanger, the whole set present, and laid it on his bed to wear. Beginning with the undergarments — a faded-blue button-up shirt and voluminous grey trousers — he meticulously clothed himself, tucking the shirt into his pants, which he hoisted to his navel. Next came the legendary Kingmaker body armour; a formidable shell of black bullet-proof material, lined with gold accents and outfitted with an energy-resistant weave. Fastened securely over his shoulders, its reflective centrepiece echoed the formidable reputation it carried – known to be the strongest armour around, save for the vest worn by the Luen siblings.
Beneath his coat, Keung found his red sash, a swath of silk that concealed the intersection of armour, shirt, and pants. His holster cradled his gun, cleverly designed to blend in and equipped with advanced anti-theft features, like a self-locking mechanism that activates if the pistol is lifted by the barrel instead of the handle. Rolling up his sleeves and slipping into black gloves and tall boots, he was nearly battle-ready. The boots, reaching halfway up his shins, were secured with three golden buckles.
Finally, he reached for his trench coat, sliding his arms through the gold-striped sleeves before giving his shoulders a sharp flick to settle the garment comfortably. With four button clicks, the coat was secure. Tightening the waist strap, his eyes landed on his peaked cap. He looked at it for a moment.
The cap was a crucial part of the Kingmaker uniform. When a Kingmaker graduated from the academy, they were given the cap, not the coat, contrary to popular belief. While the golden accents of the coat had become the recognized symbol of the Kingmakers, to the Kings, the cap held the true significance. The golden stitch work at the base of the visor symbolized the Kingmakers as the threads holding Kowloon together. It reminded them of their role in transforming Kowloon from a gang-ridden slum into a unified nation. Donning the cap, Keung retrieved his RS7 hand cannon from his armoury, holstered it, and shut the weapon cabinet. Leaving his rifle behind, he stepped out of his room and headed for the elevators.
Time to meet this Han.
Keung descended to the ground-floor lobby of the tower, passing a mural-covered wall featuring a striking spray-painted portrait of a young man. His head was tilted slightly upward, his eyes fixed on some unseen horizon, with an expression that radiated pride and defiance. Keung noticed Captain Shen waiting by a set of couches, accompanied by someone who was clearly not a Kingmaker.
He offered a deep, respectful bow to the Captain, who returned the gesture in kind. Following this formal greeting, they pulled each other into a warm embrace.
‘Lieutenant, you just keep growing, don’t you!’ Captain Shen exclaimed.
‘And you don’t seem to age, captain,’ Keung shot back.
Captain Shen laughed at Keung’s remark. It had been a full annui-cycle since their last face-to-face meeting, and six cycles since Keung’s academy days, where he’d interacted daily with Shen, even though Captain Aiguo had been Keung’s teacher.
Keung’s gaze moved past Shen, settling on a man standing near a sleek black sofa.
‘You must be Han?’ Keung ventured.
Shen stepped aside and gestured for Han to step forward. Han and Keung bowed to each other and shook hands. Keung noted the strength in Han’s grip — a firmness that spoke of military discipline, reminiscent of the handshakes shared among fellow Kingmakers, and rarely ever with anyone else.
‘A pleasure to finally meet you, sir,’ Han said, placing his other hand atop Keungs’. ‘My name is Han Shizhou; I am the commander of the Tai Li.’
Keung heard Sheng’s sharp intake of breath. He also couldn’t help but feel a sudden surge of unease.
Why is the commander of the Tai Li asking for me?
‘My my,’ Captain Shen added. ‘The Tai Li. Oh, have we heard about you! Your achievements are legendary, but I had no idea you guys were still active?’
Han nodded.
‘You flatter me, sir. Yes, we are indeed still active. But the Tai Li squad is an imitation of the Kingmakers at best. Our training and standards are modelled after the Kings themselves. Our founder, Ying Luen, idolises the legendary warriors of Yu.’
‘Ying, eh? Yeah, I know her alright.’ Captain Shen elbow-nudged Keung. ‘She’s a real piece of work, that one. It’s heartening to hear she holds the people I’ve helped train in such high regard.’
Keung still couldn’t shake his apprehension. ‘Han, pardon my directness, but why did you request to see the head of the team investigating the Yangs?’
Concern flashed across Han’s face. ‘Captain Shen, would it be possible to speak with Yaozhi Keung privately?’
‘Certainly. Perhaps you could take Han to your change rooms, Lieutenant. I believe your team is on their way back to the tower. I gave them each a buzz to return.’
‘Thank you, Captain. Do you have classes to run now?’
‘In about an hour, yes. But before that, I’ve got a Centurion to pay a visit to. You take care, Lieutenant.’
‘You, too, sir. Come, Han, let’s talk upstairs.’
Keung gave Shen one final bow, who returned the gesture.
Captain Shen turned to take his leave.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
****
‘Had a feeling I’d find you here,’ Captain Shen’s voice echoed through the quiet dojo.
Centurion Baoyan, seated on the floor and leaning over a low table, glanced up at the captain standing in the doorway. He immediately rose to his feet and bowed as Shen stepped inside, removing his boots and entering the dimly lit training room.
‘Just studying for an upcoming test, Captain.’
Shen’s eyes drifted over the scattered textbooks and a portable computer that wasn’t displaying Kingmaker material. Instead, it showed the front page of the Eastern Times news site.
‘Your mother never tell you reading in the dark is bad for your eyes? Let’s brighten this place up a bit.’ Shen strode over to the wall and turned the lights up, flooding the dojo with a warm glow.
Baoyan sighed. ‘Honestly, I finished revising a while ago. I’ve just been working on personal projects and following some news from home.’
‘Yeah, I noticed,’ Shen said, nodding toward the dormant computer. ‘By the way, that mural of yours — it’s been causing a bit of a stir around the tower.’
‘Really? Good or bad?’ Baoyan asked, genuinely surprised.
‘Oh, good. Some of my students have been asking who the figure is. At the very least, you’ve made sure a few more people know his name. How are things back in Pik? Has the famine eased up?’
Baoyan took a deep breath. ‘The former Lord had no plan to address it, but Mingchi does. Once he’s sworn in, it’ll mark the beginning of a long journey to rebuild Pik.’
‘Ah, so I’ve heard. It’s a rare sight to see a Kingmaker from the East here. I don’t think we’ve ever had more than five at any given time. A sad rarity.’
Baoyan fell silent, his expression thoughtful. He turned back to the table, picking up a thick but mostly empty notebook. He flipped open to the first page.
‘What’s that?’ Shen asked, eyeing the new-looking book.
‘I want to document Eastern history in a way it’s never been done before,’ Baoyan explained. ‘Illiteracy plagues the East, and most of the libraries that held Eastern knowledge were destroyed thousands of annui-cycles ago. Huge chunks of our history are missing. But I realised something — us Kingmakers, we’re the best record keepers in Kowloon, aren’t we? While we don’t have a comprehensive history of the East like we do for the West or South, there are puzzle pieces regarding Eastern history that I can put together. And what good is understanding something if it’s not written down? So I thought — why not create the first-ever history book of the East, using resources from our tower? An Eastern history book, written by an Easterner, for Easterners.’
Shen’s eyes lit up with approval as he nodded slowly. ‘I can’t think of a better idea, Baoyan! Come on, read something you’ve written. I’m eager to hear it.’
The young Centurion smiled, cleared his throat, and began reading aloud.
‘King in the East, by Wong Baoyan.’
Shen’s impressed smirk grew as he continued reading.
‘The Eastern region of Kowloon was not always a place defined by poverty, disease, overpopulation, and famine. Early legends tell of a smaller Kowloon that once thrived on the surface, long before the Great Sinking forced it underground. According to these stories, Eastern Kowloon was home to the original Kingmakers, once its capital, but this claim has become a topic of scholarly debate for over a millennium. Despite the uncertainty, many Easterners wonder why their region’s former prominence remains unacknowledged. Some believe it is for the same reasons Easterner’s are referred to as dongfa’shu; a racial slur comparing them to their local, oversized rodents. The East is an insulting place to be likened with. Whatever the truth may be, the once-glorious Eastern Kowloon has long since faded, leaving little trace of its past.’
Shen’s eyebrows arched up in an expression of sympathy.
‘During the rise of Kowloon’s subterranean world, the Unification Pact promised every district autonomy to rule, allowing Lords and Ladies to govern freely, so long as they stayed loyal to the Emperor. In the centuries that followed, the East saw a golden era of prosperity, where its citizens enjoyed a standard of living that rivalled the wealth of today’s Northern nobles. However, that success proved fleeting. As Eastern affluence grew, so too did the greed of the Western industrialists, the Central royals, and Northern bankers. Strings were pulled, and plans to systemically isolate the East were formed.’
The captain’s expression began to shift into a frown.
‘Regicide after regicide, the East was belted into submission, surrendering to a new generation of Eastern Lords manipulated into becoming puppets for their new political overlords. Stripped of its military strength, technological advancements, and the will to resist, the East plunged into over a millennium of suffering. The final blow came during the District Rebellions in 1458 A.T. 432, where the South, with their unrelenting culture of resilience, declared open war against the Yaozhi Dynasty. But the East could not muster the same resilience as they unwillingly became players of the war. Not even the central battleground, the East bore the heaviest deaths, its people enduring untold hardships that have left deep scars on its identity. This is the heartbreak of Eastern Kowloon.’
Shen stood in silence, lips pursed as if weighing his thoughts. Anticipation tightening in Baoyan’s chest, waiting for the captain to comment on the introduction to his history book. But all Shen could manage was an uneasy smile, the kind that hovered between approval and hesitation.
****
Keung and Han entered a room filled with rows of lockers and took a seat on a long bench in the centre. The lockers, some filled with weapons, explosives, gadgets, and spare uniforms, were assigned to Keung’s team members. Most others were empty. Keung always thought the room was overkill for his team; it could better accommodate an entire squad rather than his small six-man detachment.
Keung took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever news Han might bring. ‘So, what brings you here?’
‘General Denzhen, your father if I am not mistaken, has permitted us to take part in your investigations of Yang activities in the Yau district.’
Keung felt his tensed gut release in relief. So he’s not here because of what I did in Yau.
‘That’s impossible. The General would never. All high-level Kingmaker operations are strictly exclusive to Kingmakers.’
‘The decision came after a meeting with Lok and Ying Luen,’ Han explained calmly. ‘You’re welcome to confirm with General Denzhen, but I assure you, I’m not lying, sir.’
A wave of confusion hit Keung before he recalled Denzhen speaking of a meeting with the siblings while he was still in the infirmary.
Is ba serious about outsiders helping me? Does he think I’m incompetent for this decision to have been made? Have both my father and the Luen siblings labelled me a failure?
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. ‘I trust what you’re saying, Han. Regardless of General Denzhen’s reasons, I’ll honour his judgement.’ His mind echoed with unspoken qualms towards his father.
I must talk to that man and understand the logic behind his decision.
Han gave a satisfied grin. ‘Excellent. Where do we start then?’
The door slid open and Keung turned around to see Ushi and another man with long hair and a whisky moustache wearing plain clothes bickering about something.
Ushi looked relieved to see the lieutenant.
‘Get a load of this guy, sir! Says he’s joining our team!’
The stranger interjected, turning to Han. ‘I sure am! There he is. Han, sir, tell him!’
Han rose from his seat, addressing Keung. ‘Lieutenant, this is Kan Jin, my co-captain. Jin, this is Lieutenant Keung; the leader of the investigation into the Yangs, son of the Dragon, General Denzhen, and the nephew of the Emperor, 4th heir to the Yaozhi Dynasty. Starting today, we report to him.’
Keung hadn’t expected such a dramatic introduction for himself. Simultaneously, Jin’s jaw dropped at seeing Keung was the lead for the investigation, the same man who was at the centre of the recent Jian controversy.
‘No way, sir, what’s he on about?’ Ushi asked Keung with a raised brow.
Jin moved swiftly, bowing shallowly to Keung. Ushi watched the gesture with disgust on his face.
Still feeling a bit unsure, Keung returned the gesture with a snap.
‘I’ve heard a bit about you, Jin,’ Keung admitted, his mind racing as he tried to take command of the situation. ‘I take it you and Ushi got to know each other on the way here?’
Ushi cut in with a frustrated head shake. ‘Wait, no, what’s going on? Who are these people?’
The door once again slid open. This time it was Cheng and Tao, who had dark circles under their eyes. Cheng’s face was dusted with energy-residue, what one would expect after being around constant gunfire for long periods of time. Tao had his trench coat tied around his waist, his shirt’s top two buttons undone and untucked from his red sash, looking equally worn. It was clear the two were at whatever was happening last night in Ho Man Ting.
They both looked at the two strangers in the room and barely raised their eyebrows in surprise.
‘We could hear you rodents screaming from the bottom floor,’ Tao moaned.
‘Tao!’ Ushi called out, raising his shoulders in disbelief. ‘Get this, these two nobodies want to join our investigation into the Yangs!’
Tao, forever the picture of indifference, barely grunted in response. ‘Yeah cool.’ He flopped onto the bench with a nonchalant air.
Cheng’s eyes widened, and he jerked his head back, blinking rapidly. ‘Say that again,’ he sputtered.
‘You heard him,’ Jin snapped back. ‘We nobodies are in your team now. Like it or not.’
The room then exploded into a cacophony of voices. Jin, like a dusk-cat in a rodent farm, was trying to shout down Cheng and Ushi, defending his presence.
‘And who the hell are you again?’ Ushi demanded.
‘Go ask ya boss, jackass!’
‘Ushi!’ Keung shouted, ‘Let me explain —’
‘Yeah, let him explain,’ Jin mimicked provocatively.
‘Now, you listen here,’ Cheng thrust a finger at Jin.
‘You the boss? No?’ Jin squared his shoulders as he stared back at Cheng.
Meanwhile, Han was an island of silence in the sea of chaos. Keung could feel a throbbing headache building, grateful that Yutai and Shing were absent — they were two hurricanes he didn’t need right now.
The door slid open and Shing and Yutai stepped into the room, halting at the sight of the ongoing storm. Undeterred by their lack of context of the uproar, the two entered headfirst into the shouting match.
Keung sighed. They’ll find out right about…
‘W H A T?!’ two voices shouted in unison.
…Now.
Keung sighed and shook his head and watched the chaos unfold. Ushi was spotted thumping his chest, Tao and Shing somehow got into some other fight between themselves, Jin was wildly and angrily pointing at the ceiling trying to make some point to Cheng, and Yutai was shrieking.
****
Amidst the madness, Cheng’s attention was suddenly drawn to the quiet figure of Han, standing calm amidst the madness, trying to dissuade Jin from starting a 1 v 4 brawl.
To Cheng, something rang very familiar about Han. He studied his face, taking in the martial discipline evident in his lean build, the casual clothes that bore no affiliation to any known gangs. Nothing to indicate a Ji Sia neck tattoo, a San Po severed pinkie, or a Kam Shan black jacket — just a nondescript shirt and trousers. Basic sneakers, and no jewellery, as you would expect from the common Kowlooni. But his face — there was something about those intense eyes, the strong jawline, and that near-perfect hairline that was ringing a bell in Cheng’s mind. Two ordinary men, yet so distinctive, here on presumably a high-ranking Kingmaker order to join their operations. And then, as he looked closer, realisation hit Cheng like a bolt of lightning.‘Are you Hashin Lihao? Hold on,’ Cheng tapped his chin in contemplation and pointed to Jin. ‘That must mean you are Ranjin Puyahu.’ The voices in the room stilled as though Cheng had thrown a switch. All eyes swivelled towards him, confusion painted on every face, except Keung’s.
However, confusion was replaced with shock for Hashin and Ranjin. They stiffened as Cheng uttered their long-dead names, names that hadn’t crossed anyone’s lips in ages except Ying’s. Their brows knitted together, a guarded wariness creeping into their expressions.
Cheng’s follow-up question cornered the two men, leaving no room for squeal.
‘If I may ask, what are two dead men doing here in Yu?’
It made sense to Cheng before they even answered. He recalled his time at the Kingmaker Propagation Offices, where the Kings drove recruitment. They had reached out to two exceptional Yau gangsters, Lihao Hashin and Puyahu Ranjin, impressed by a recent successful assignment. When the Kingmakers sent their official invitation, Ying Luen intercepted it. She explained to General Qin Shi that she was forming Yau’s first special operations team and already gave the two men a choice: join the Kingmakers or lead the new project to protect Yau. To the General’s surprise, they chose the latter.
To confirm his theory, Cheng honed in on the sides of their necks. Every Ji Si gangster is initiated with the Luen insignia on the sides of their neck, all knew this. Both had a small, pinkish-white patch — a removed tattoo.
A chuckle rumbled from Han’s chest, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet. ‘This one’s bright, Lieutenant Keung.’
‘So,’ Cheng murmured, his voice icy with suspicion, ‘Two dead men with covered-up Ji Sia tattoos asking to join our efforts in hunting down Yang members. Tell me, ‘Han’, the Tai Li were never really disbanded, were they?’
Ushi, Tao, Yutai, and the ever-combative Shing fell silent and stared.
Han’s voice was cold, calculated. ‘Cheng, isn’t it?’ he asked. ‘You were on the Ho Man Ting rooftop last night with the General and these four.’ He gestured at the still dumbstruck Kingmakers. ‘We were there too. Not up there on the rooftops with you high-flyers, but amongst the crowd below. All eight of us Tai Li. We knew the flash mob would gather there long before it happened, but seeing The Ibilis threw a wedge in our plans. Otherwise, we’d have been in that very room with you, waiting for him.’ Han’s finger zeroed in on Yutai, who wore a matching frown to Cheng’s.
If the Tai Li were aware of this much, Cheng thought, then they’re not to be taken lightly.
‘How did you know?’ Yutai asked Han.
‘What? What are you guys talking about?’ Keung asked.
Jin broke in, his voice sharp with derision, ‘Looking at you lot, it seems you guys didn’t even know the Yangs were staging that appearance.’ He tsked and shook his head, disappointment on his face. ‘Han, let’s just go, I don’t think they’re as useful as you thought they’d be.’
Shing bristled at Jin’s words, his typically blunt voice coming in like a whipcrack. ‘For all your talk, I don’t remember seeing you do shit last night when The Ibilis showed up. Were you enjoying Mogwei’s little show with the rest of the crowd? Should’ve just been a good soldier and stayed dead.’
Jin’s anger flared at Shing’s goading. His eyes narrowed to slits as he stomped towards Shing, who stood his ground in the distance. Keung intervened, stepping between the two and holding Jin back. Jin snapped at Shing, his voice a dangerous hiss. ‘Why don’t you say that shit to my face, asshole?’
Shing’s laughter echoed in the strained silence. ‘Afraid I’d send you crying to Lok and his sister, whatever the fuck her name is. The Luen bitches.’
Jin’s body shook with the effort of containing his rage, but Shing’s smirk only widened. ‘Come outside, I’ll fuck you and your mother!’ Jin growled.
Shing shot back with a shrug, ‘You wouldn’t be the first miserable loser my whore mother has fucked.’
Jin roared, his body quivering like a coiled spring in Keung’s iron grip, which was slipping as Jin thrashed. Ushi stepped forward to help, his powerful hands joining Keung’s in a bid to restrain Jin. Shing, ever the antagonist, moved towards Jin but was held back by Tao and Yutai.
‘ENOUGH!’ The word erupted from Cheng like a clap of thunder, silencing the room instantly. He stepped into the centre of the chaotic fray, his gaze as lethal as a sword tip. ‘Shing, one more peep from you and I’ll personally throw you into the lightforsaken clutches of No Man’s Land myself.’
Shing sneered but yanked his arms free from Tao and Yutai, settling back. Once Jin ceased his futile struggles against Ushi, Ushi and Keung released him. Jin shot a scathing look over his shoulder at the two of them, before straightening his rumpled collar with a huff.
Cheng turned to Keung, his stern gaze softening just a touch. ‘Sir, can you confirm Han’s claim? Will we be working alongside the Tai Li in our investigations?’ he asked, wanting to finally put this to rest.
Keung nodded, his face sombre.
‘Alright, that settles it. If any of you have any more complaints, take it up with General Denzhen.’ He signalled to Keung. ‘Sir, the room is yours.’
Keung breathed in and pumped his chest out to broaden his shoulders as he spoke. ‘Okay, first things first. We have a lot to discuss regarding last night. The Ibilis appeared in Ho Man Ting Square. I want to hear every single perspective.’
Keung gestured towards the bench in the middle for everyone to take a seat. From left to right sat Jin, Han, Tao, Ushi, Cheng, Yutai, and Shing at the other end.
‘I’ll go first,’ Cheng began. ‘General Denzhen received a call from the Tien Tao Riot Squad after a protest in the square was showing signs of Yang dog whistles. Men and women in dark clothing, some were carrying Yang flags. On such short notice, he thought to call me first since you were still in recovery. I called everyone I could, and by the time we all gathered in Man Ting…’