Urban: Super God-Ring System

C26 – He Met Mu Shuxin for the First Time

Descending from the eighth floor, Wen Huaimu was the picture of ease and vitality. He discovered that playing the part of an expert brought such joy, and the awe in people’s eyes made him feel like a true VIP!

In high spirits, Wen Huaimu made his way to the seventh floor, but not for another round of gambling. His few bets had paid off handsomely, and he hadn’t lost sight of his goal: to earn enough to support his elfin.

He pulled out a stack of purple coins and a bank card from his ring and tossed them onto the exchange counter, declaring, “Convert this into cash and deposit it, please.”

The young woman at the counter had barely glanced at Wen Huaimu until the sight of the purple coins caught her off guard. She realized she had underestimated the seemingly unfashionable man before her – he was loaded!

She quickly flashed a winsome smile and began to count the coins, throwing flirtatious glances at Wen Huaimu, hoping to charm the affluent young master.

Wen Huaimu, however, paid her no mind.

With no other option, the young woman efficiently tallied the coins. Upon seeing the staggering sum, she tried once more to catch Wen Huaimu’s attention with a coy look.

Wen Huaimu remained focused on the coins.

17.58 million!

That was the tally of the purple coins.

He had earned a fortune.

Even for someone extraordinary like Wen Huaimu, the amount was astonishing.

He was now a man of wealth.

“Deposit this into my bank account. And here’s a tip for you,” Wen Huaimu said, plucking a five thousand purple coin from the pile and handing it to the young woman.

“Thank you, Young Master,” she replied, her disappointment at failing to allure him softened by the generous tip. She smiled gratefully and proceeded with the transaction.

Card in hand, Wen Huaimu headed for the exit. His mission was accomplished, and he had even crossed paths with a beauty – a flawless victory. All that was left was to settle scores with Mr. Long Hair and Chickenhead.

They had plotted against his life, and he was not about to let them off the hook.

Wen Huaimu caressed the bottle of pills in his pocket, a mischievous grin spreading across his lips. Mr. Long Hair’s comeuppance was imminent.

Stepping off the elevator onto the third floor, Wen Huaimu extended his psychic force to locate Long Hair and Chickenhead. His elfin was drained and needed time to recuperate, leaving him to fend for himself for the remainder of his mission.

The time was likely past nine in the evening, and the third floor of Nighty Night was alive with activity. Rooms that had been dim earlier were now ablaze with light, and the air was filled with the faint sound of sultry voices.

Having been through such experiences before, Wen Huaimu was well aware of what was unfolding. The enticing voices stirred a restlessness within him, but he was a young man, brimming with vitality.

With a concerted effort, Wen Huaimu quelled the rising tide of desire and continued down the corridor toward the reception hall.

Before he could reach his destination, a familiar, piercing voice reached his ears. It belonged to Chickenhead, a man of slight build with a voice that cut through the air. He was currently upbraiding two young girls, piquing Wen Huaimu’s interest.

Wen Huaimu edged closer, his psychic force enveloping Chickenhead, sensing the man’s fury. Amidst the fragments of conversation he could make out, Wen Huaimu gleaned an unexpected tidbit: the girls being chastised were in the company of Mu Shuxin, who had apparently taken offense at something they’d done, prompting Chickenhead to deliver a harsh reprimand.

Wen Huaimu’s interest wasn’t in Chickenhead’s tirade but in Mu Shuxin himself—the reigning underground king of Anbubury and, more importantly, the brother of Mu Jingbai, the brash and overbearing girl who leaned on him for support.

Wen Huaimu was eager to gauge the extent of Mu Shuxin’s influence.

He remained silent, a mere observer. After a lengthy scolding, Chickenhead appeared to tire and finally ceased his lecture. He issued a few curt commands, and the two girls, their faces ashen, were dismissed.

Chickenhead then grabbed a bottle of chilled red tea from the counter, downing several swigs with gusto before exhaling a satisfied breath.

However, Chickenhead suddenly seemed to remember something and quickly turned, hurrying down another corridor.

Wen Huaimu’s expression shifted, and he stealthily trailed behind.

After navigating several turns, Chickenhead came to a halt in a lavishly decorated passageway. He gently tapped on a door and said, “Scarface, Young Master Leng Hao has been summoned by the patriarch. He probably won’t make it.”

“Then let it be. Go on, and don’t let anyone disturb me again,” came a deep, resonant voice from within.

Wen Huaimu, attuned with his psychic force, instantly recognized the voice as Mu Shuxin’s. It matched perfectly with the voice he remembered from his kidnapping, when Big T and Scarface had been in conversation.

Not daring to linger outside the door, Chickenhead made a swift exit.

Wen Huaimu, now intrigued by a more engaging prospect, decided to temporarily spare this minor character.

He found a discreet nook and extended his psychic force to its maximum reach, monitoring every action within the opulent room.

As his psychic force fully infiltrated the space, three figures materialized in Wen Huaimu’s mind.

A stern-looking young man in his twenties sat firmly on a sofa, a similarly stoic young man standing behind him.

To Wen Huaimu’s surprise, the occupant of the other sofa was none other than Big T!

How had these two, who had been at odds just that afternoon, ended up sitting together now?

“Big T, we’ve known each other for a while, and you’ve had my back twice before. Frankly, I consider you an elder,” Mu Shuxin said with a hint of sincerity.

Big T remained unaffected, sitting in silence, his gaze coolly fixed on Mu Shuxin.

“I had hoped to bring Leng Hao in to mediate, but that’s not going to happen. You’ve come alone today, so I’ll get straight to the point. The Liao Qiming issue has nothing to do with me. I’ve found some evidence, but I’m worried you won’t believe it,” Mu Shuxin stated.

“Evidence?” A flicker of amusement crossed Big T’s face, though he offered no comment.

“I figured you wouldn’t trust me, but let me say this. Some of the evidence I’ve gathered suggests a connection to the Votroecorians. I don’t have all the details yet, but if you trust me, I’ll have a full explanation for you within three days.” Mu Shuxin, the newly risen mafia don, spoke with an undeniable presence.

Big T remained silent, simply relaxing his frame and settling back into the sofa, his gaze drifting up to the chandelier overhead as if lost in thought.

Scarface stopped speaking as well; any more words would be pointless now. It all hinged on Big T’s reaction.

A cell phone began to vibrate.

Scarface’s brow furrowed, his eyes darkening as he fixed his stare on the young man behind him.

Yet the young man was unflustered, casually pulling out his phone to take the call.

A short while later, the young man hung up and bent forward to whisper in Scarface’s ear.

Abruptly, Scarface stood, his face clouding over with a grim expression.

Even Big T was taken aback by Scarface’s sudden movement, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes. What could possibly shake the normally composed Scarface to his core?

After a moment of hesitation, Scarface managed a wry smile and said, “Big T, we’ve got trouble. Your man, Yan Xuewen, was found dead at a junkyard in the South District—and it’s a particularly bizarre death.”

“Ouwang is dead!” The news visibly shook Big T. He rose swiftly to his feet, his eyes seething with menace as he glared at Scarface.

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