Motobu Ryo stiffened in shock. “Who sent you?”
The person in the car gave no answer and drove away without a word.
An hour later, in the yellow phone booth on Donglong Street as instructed, Motobu Ryo, shivering from the cold, picked up a call coming from a scrambled number.
He had already guessed who would be on the other end.
Softly, he murmured, “…Ning Zhuo?”
Ning Zhuo was on a treadmill, his voice slightly breathless from exercise as he asked, “You’re out?”
Motobu Ryo had been questioned by many people that day, and had also thought a great deal himself. By now, there was a calm, numb clarity in his voice as he replied, “You knew how I got locked up… so you already knew I’d kill Abu, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know. But I could guess,” Ning Zhuo said. “I had a father too. If I’d ever been backed into a corner with no way out, I think he would’ve chosen to let me die easily.”
Motobu Ryo pressed his forehead against the filthy one-way glass of the phone booth and let out a muffled chuckle. “…You had a father? I thought people like you were born from cracks in the rocks.”
As he spoke, he wiped away an old man’s tear from the corner of his eye with his thumb. “So, what do you want from me?”
“There’s something you should know: you’ve ruined someone else’s plan. You might not live much longer,” Ning Zhuo replied.
Motobu Ryo instantly perked up. “You know which woman turned Abu into that thing, don’t you?”
“He killed so many women himself. Dying at a woman’s hand seems fitting,” Ning Zhuo said.
“Stop dodging the question!” Motobu Ryo snapped, raising his voice.
“You don’t get to tell me how to talk,” Ning Zhuo said coldly. “I set the terms of this conversation. You listen.”
Motobu Ryo’s lips trembled. “I… I…”
“Your problem is yours to solve. I have professional ethics. I can’t reveal my employer’s identity.”
Motobu Ryo covered his eyes with his hand and slowly crouched down in the tiny booth, swaying on the verge of collapse.
“Me? Investigate? I have nothing left…”
He tried to laugh it off, but age and recent hardship had quietly reduced him to a sentimental old man who couldn’t stop talking.
Tears streamed from the gaps between his gnarled fingers. “I… they won’t even bother locking me up… I can’t find work… I don’t even know what I’ll eat tonight…”
Hearing the sobs on the other end, Ning Zhuo remained unmoved, heart like iron. “Cry all you want. I’m timing you. This line’s running through a secure channel—only five minutes allowed.”
Motobu Ryo’s sobs weakened subconsciously. “…Ning Zhuo, what do you want from me?”
“Had enough of suffering?” Ning Zhuo asked.
That line hit Motobu Ryo square in the heart.
He froze for a moment, about to reply, when Ning Zhuo asked again, “If you want to make a comeback, how much money would it take?”
Motobu Ryo swallowed hard, his mind racing to calculate amid the turmoil. “Five million.”
“Oh.” Ning Zhuo sounded amused. “Outside your yellow phone booth, there’s a black-market digital screen playing illegal ads. One of them’s for a company called Zhu’an. Memorize the contact number.”
Motobu Ryo hurriedly removed his scratched glasses, wiped them clean on his shirt, and pressed his face to the grimy one-way glass, staring hard outside.
Sure enough, in less than ten seconds, the screen displayed Zhu’an Company’s basic information.
He was still sharp with numbers and memorized the string at once.
But as he mentally processed the information, he suddenly froze.
He stepped back, clutching the receiver tightly, gritting his teeth. “…You’re telling me to take out a high-interest loan?!”
“Yes. I want you to take out a high-interest loan,” Ning Zhuo said.
Motobu Ryo adjusted his worn glasses sharply, his voice low and fast: “These people devour you down to the bones! You want me to borrow five million—that’s a bottomless pit I’ll never crawl out of!! You might as well kill me!!”
“I didn’t say five million.”
“…?”
“I said twenty million,” Ning Zhuo replied.
Motobu Ryo was stunned. “You…?”
The truth began to dawn on him. He lowered his voice even further. “Those companies always run background checks. They’d never lend to someone like me!”
“I have ways. The question is whether you’ll follow instructions,” Ning Zhuo said. “Across from the phone booth is a hot spring inn. The owner will let you stay the night.”
“Dinner tonight’s on me. What happens tomorrow and after… depends on your choice.”
Ning Zhuo hung up.
Motobu Ryo stood in the booth for a long while before quietly adjusting his collar and sleeves and stepping into the night of Silver Hammer City. His heavy footsteps led him toward the hot spring inn.
Meanwhile, Ning Zhuo made a few more calls and brief instructions, then got back on the treadmill.
He breathed deeply and steadily, calmly plotting his final plan.
…
Ma Yushu considered his life quite satisfying.
Well, the second half of it, anyway.
He’d had some tough times in his youth—those years spent dreaming of striking it rich overnight, gambling away every borrowed cent, hoping to hit the jackpot someday.
But no jackpot ever came. What did come were debt collectors, threatening to sell him to perverts if he couldn’t come up with the money in two weeks.
Desperate, Ma Yushu once climbed a rooftop, ready to end it all.
But the rooftop was crowded that day.
Right in front of him, a man who’d ruined his life in the stock market jumped first, splattering into a bloody mess below, merging into filthy Silver Hammer City.
Seeing this cautionary tale, Ma Yushu didn’t jump. Instead, chilled by the iron-scented wind, he thought of his best friend.
His friend’s surname was Jin.
With great enthusiasm, Ma Yushu introduced his friend to the loan sharks.
That little bit of useless friendship bought him a way out—and the stable life he now enjoyed.
These days, he went by Ma Bo. Officially, he worked as a financial consultant for the Weiwei Group; secretly, he ran illegal lending operations through his black-market loan company Zhu’an and kept a squad of thugs on standby.
Zhu’an—“help you to peace.”
Business was good lately.
A plainly dressed man had come, looking nervous and meek, the picture of an honest man.
He’d handed over all his personal details and timidly requested a loan of half a million for his daughter’s reconstructive facial surgery.
He’d even brought the daughter, crying that she couldn’t bear living this way any longer, that she’d rather die than keep living like a freak.
She was his beloved daughter. He couldn’t let her suffer.
The girl’s face, melted by corrosive liquid, was so revolting that even Ma Yushu was disgusted.
But she made her father the perfect customer.
A hopeless coward from the lower district with a steady job—there was no way he’d run.
And he had a pretty young daughter, too.
Although her face was disfigured now, judging by her figure and facial contours, she must have been a beauty before the accident.
Once the surgery was done, and if properly trained, she could easily earn back the cost just by selling her body.
But even after making such a private evaluation, Ma Yushu wouldn’t recklessly lend that 500,000 yuan.
After double-checking and confirming that the man had provided real identity information, Ma Yushu finally put on a beaming smile and handed him the money—along with a high-interest loan contract.
Seeing the man clueless and ignorant, he happily drafted a shady contract laden with hidden clauses: an outrageous upfront fee, a hefty security deposit, and additional processing charges.
The man truly didn’t understand the game. He nervously clutched the 350,000 yuan actually handed to him, expressing endless gratitude before leaving.
Ma Yushu personally escorted him to the door and smilingly said, “If it’s convenient for you, feel free to recommend me to your friends and family. For every new client you introduce, I’ll knock a point off your interest rate, how about that?”
Surprisingly, the man actually paused to seriously consider this. “My daughter, after her face was injured, joined a mutual aid group… I wonder if I could introduce people from there…”
Ma Yushu almost laughed out loud but kept a straight face. “Then I’ll trouble you to introduce them to me.”
The man was quite capable—he ended up introducing seven or eight relatives of disfigured girls.
Without exception, they were all unfortunate souls from the lower city like him, borrowing small amounts ranging from 200,000 to a million yuan.
Business was booming for Ma Yushu. With a radiant face, he burned incense in front of his electronic fortune idol and sincerely prayed that small profits would lead to big fortunes.
Perhaps his wish was heard. One day, while bored in his office at Weiwei Corporation polishing his lucky golden toad, he got a call from one of his underlings.
On the other end was barely suppressed excitement: “Boss… we’ve got a big one!”
Ma Yushu immediately found an excuse to slip away.
When he opened the door of the Zhu’an Company, his gaze met that of the “big client.”
A real big fish.
Motobu Ryo stood up from the sofa and extended his hand. “Mr. Ma, may your business prosper.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” Ma Yushu smiled, full of filthy thoughts as he shook hands warmly. He teased, “Back when we had dinner with the CEO of Titan Corporation, it was hard to even shake hands with you, Mr. Motobu.”
Motobu Ryo’s face stiffened, awkwardly adjusting his glasses.
He had been arrogant back then—as a top technician, he was used to solving everything with money and couldn’t be bothered with social niceties.
If not for Ning Zhuo’s reminder, Motobu Ryo wouldn’t have even remembered that meal.
Seeing his current misery firsthand filled Ma Yushu with secret joy as he settled comfortably onto the sofa.
Watching the mighty fall was a pleasure unlike any other.
He adopted a leisurely posture. “So, Mr. Motobu, what brings you to me?”
Motobu Ryo lowered his head, unable to hide the anxiety and excitement in his expression. “I need a loan.”
“Excuse me?” Ma Yushu cupped his ear with mock confusion. “Sorry, Mr. Motobu, I’m getting old—I need a better hearing aid these days…”
Faced with this deliberate stalling, Motobu Ryo flushed deeply, clenching his fists on his knees. “I need money. I can’t live like this anymore. I want a chance to start over.”
He meant every word from the bottom of his heart.
Ma Yushu asked, “How much?”
Motobu Ryo raised his face, revealing a flush and burning eyes. “…Twenty million.”
Ma Yushu immediately sat up straight. “…How much?”
Motobu Ryo took a deep breath. “You heard me.”
Ma Yushu’s mind spun rapidly. “Mr. Motobu, you’ve been in the lab too long—maybe you don’t understand how things work outside?”
He tapped his own chest and gently explained, “We’re not a charity. We only lend to people who can repay. Everyone in Silver Hammer City knows your situation—you’ve lost your insurance, you can’t even afford to die on the streets. Your credit’s zero. What can you possibly offer as collateral for twenty million?”
Motobu Ryo placed both hands on his knees and spoke clearly: “My brain.”
Ma Yushu’s interest was piqued. He raised an eyebrow slightly.
Motobu Ryo inhaled deeply. “I know every technical secret of Titan Corporation—the ‘White Shield’ security system was designed by me. You understand what I mean, don’t you?”
Ma Yushu finally realized this was indeed a huge deal.
He asked, “But isn’t that classified information? You dare trade that? Aren’t you afraid Titan Corporation will—”
“As long as I live, the secrets have value. If I starve to death on the streets, the secrets die with me.”
Motobu Ryo stood, pacing excitedly—clearly emotional.
“Look at me. I’ve got only one life left. I can’t take hunger or hardship. I’m old—no one even wants my organs…”
He tapped his temple nervously. “This is all I have of value… only this.”
Ma Yushu smiled faintly.
He knew Motobu Ryo’s brain was worth the money.
Even if Motobu Ryo refused to talk later, there were ways to extract what was in that head.
But first, he needed Motobu Ryo to sign a contract and receive the money.
Then, when Ruiteng Corporation came looking for revenge, he could push all the blame onto him.
After all—it was Motobu Ryo who walked through his door.
Ma Yushu stroked his chin. “Twenty million… that’s a huge sum. Business has been good lately, but I’ve tied up my cash elsewhere. How about this—we lower it to ten million, paid in five installments?”
“No.” Motobu Ryo was confident in his value. “Mr. Ma, I came to you first out of old acquaintance. But if you don’t want the deal, I can always sell elsewhere.”
Seeing Motobu Ryo seriously about to leave, Ma Yushu grew anxious. He suddenly stood, half-threatening, half-persuading. “Mr. Motobu, if this news gets out, Ruiteng will kill you!”
“If they kill me, they get nothing.” Motobu Ryo squinted at him. “But give me the money, and you can keep me in the palm of your hand. My skills are in here—I’ll definitely earn it back for you.”
A warm, itching excitement stirred deep in Ma Yushu’s chest.
His old gambling instincts awoke.
He knew—if this deal worked, he could use Motobu Ryo’s brain to sell high-level intel and technology, ruling the black market with ease.
He didn’t want Motobu Ryo to repay the loan—he wanted him to default.
That was what loan sharks did best.
Greed reddened Ma Yushu’s eyes.
But he still wore a gentle, kindly face. “Mr. Motobu, calm down. Sit. Have some tea. I’ll find a way to help you.”
Ma Yushu rested a hand on Motobu Ryo’s shoulder. “I promise.”
Author’s Note:
Fun Fact: Degenerate gambler, biss
