Chapter 186: The Deceiver Deceived

My forehead was sweating; at this critical moment, nothing unexpected must happen.

The so-called “swindler gangs” are a type of con artist. They have a leader who orchestrates everything. Some prey on gamblers, luring them into rigged games—Xia Jinrong is an example. Others target those seeking wealth, like Meng Xiaoyu, who was also deceived. My father, in truth, just got greedy for a good deal. Once the scam succeeds, the con artists vanish without a trace. China is vast, and they can always find new victims elsewhere.

Meng Xiaoyu cursed them relentlessly, but this time, after returning from the U.S., she hadn’t retrieved any money—only brought back a feng shui master.

“Our White Dream Consortium hasn’t spent a dime. If those people from Eagle Flight Group ever fall into my hands, I’ll cut off their heads. What’s even more infuriating is that the Japanese company involved is part of the Abe Group. This is going to be a huge mess. In the U.S., they’ve been opposing us at every turn,” Meng Xiaoyu said.

The White Dream Consortium—Xie Lingyu had me open a White Dream Flower Shop, which seemed somewhat connected. I didn’t dwell on it. Instead, I asked Meng Xiaoyu, “Sister-in-law, I haven’t been able to reach Brother Shen. Has something happened?”

Meng Xiaoyu replied, “He’s currently suspended and can’t meet with you.”

After discussing Eagle Flight Group with her, I got a clearer sense of Meng Xiaoyu’s style. She had already hired eight private investigators, but none had managed to track down the culprits—it was as if they had vanished into thin air.

Leaving Meng Xiaoyu’s company, I called my dad. He and the old professor had already arrived at Weiyang Hotel, where many foreign guests stayed. Could Xiao Buquan be hiding there? When I arrived, my father and the professor were squatting at the entrance. Dad was munching on a sweet potato, while the professor’s shoes were polished to a shine, his eyes fixed on the hotel doors. A newspaper was tucked under his arm. Seeing me, he asked, “I have a copy of *The Sunflower Manual*, written by the Three Treasures Eunuch. Want to train with it?”

The professor also had a large bag beside him.

I rolled my eyes at the old man. If he had *Heavenly Sword Descends*, I’d be thrilled.

Spotting me, my father said, “Xiao Qi, this time I’m determined to corner Xiao Buquan. He’s a scoundrel who’s harmed countless people—probably swindled many old men like me.”

The professor chuckled sheepishly, “Maybe he had no choice.”

The professor took off his glasses, breathed on them, and wiped them with his sleeve. “To lure Xiao Buquan out, we’ll need a plan.”

I didn’t want my father to get caught up in the professor’s antics, but Dad was stubborn. Now that the professor claimed Xiao Buquan was inside, he wouldn’t leave. I stood with them for a while until, eventually, the professor pulled out some uniforms and caps from his bag—sanitation worker outfits. After changing, they started loitering around the hotel.

After all, no one pays much attention to sanitation workers. By the afternoon, the professor gathered us and gave some instructions.

A middle-aged man in blue repairman overalls walked out of the hotel.

The professor suddenly shouted, “That’s Xiao Buquan!” My father, still spry despite his age, rushed forward to confront him. I followed, pulling Dad back just as a blade flashed—my sanitation vest was slashed open. The man had a hidden blade.

The man said, “I’m not Xiao Buquan. You’ve got the wrong guy.” I snapped, “Then why pull a knife?”

He retorted, “You charged at me. Of course, I’d defend myself.”

With a clatter, several iPhones and cash fell from his clothes.

Damn, he was a thief targeting high-end hotels. Waving his knife, he demanded I back off. Fearing for my father’s safety, I stepped aside. The thief fled, and only then did the security guards give chase.

When I turned to look for the professor, he was gone. On a pile of clothes lay a torn note: *I am Xiao Buquan, but I’m not a bad man.*

My father’s face turned red with anger. I patted his back repeatedly until he finally calmed down.

“So that refined old man was Xiao Buquan all along. Let’s call the police and have him arrested,” Dad fumed.

I reached into my pocket for my phone—only to find it had been swapped for a pack of Vinda tissues.

Xiao Buquan was long gone. The old fox had tricked us both, even stealing my phone. I was livid.

Dad’s phone was still intact, but as he was about to call the police, my number flashed on the screen. I answered and unleashed a torrent of curses.

Xiao Buquan chuckled. “Relax, young man. Let me tell you—it wasn’t me who swindled everyone. It was my disciple, Nine-Headed Bird. To be honest, the industry calls me the ‘God of Swindles,’ but you know what they say—teach your disciple too well, and he’ll outshine you. This time, Nine-Headed Bird scammed everyone, and now I’m the one taking the blame. The police are after me too. Do you think that’s fair?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. So the old professor was Xiao Buquan, the legendary “God of Swindles.” Rumor had it that if he asked for ten bucks, victims would gladly hand him a hundred. But this time, the master had been outsmarted by his own apprentice.

I asked, “So what do you want?”

Xiao Buquan said, “I sought you out for a big opportunity. I know you’re acquainted with Meng Xiaoyu. I need you to mediate. If I can retrieve the contracts, all I want is a retirement fund from her. As for you, Meng Xiaoyu won’t shortchange you—you’ll easily pocket a few million.”

He continued, “After sweeping the streets all afternoon, I’ve spotted Nine-Headed Bird’s trail. He doesn’t know his old master still has a few tricks up his sleeve.”

I asked, “How do you know I’ll agree?”

Xiao Buquan replied, “This is a win-win. I deal with Nine-Headed Bird, secure my pension, the Japanese won’t gain anything, and I can return the money to the elderly victims. You’ll get a ‘Model Citizen’ award, and Meng Xiaoyu’s reward won’t be small. I’ve done my homework—you even outsmarted that corrupt County Chief Chen the other day.”

His words swayed me. There really was no reason to refuse. Except when he asked to borrow my phone for a few days.

After sending my father home, my mother scolded me, “Got scammed again, huh? Maybe you should go back to first grade.”

I called Meng Xiaoyu and explained everything. After a pause, she said she wouldn’t get involved. I was puzzled—why wouldn’t she?

Instead, Gao Mo called me. Her message was simple: Meng Xiaoyu wouldn’t intervene. If the contracts were retrieved, there’d be money—but if not, the consequences were mine alone. This had nothing to do with her.

I realized how naive I was, completely clueless about how business worked.

The next afternoon, I met Xiao Buquan again, this time with Gao Mo. Disguised as a retired professor, he greeted us by the riverbank. The biting wind made our noses numb.

Xiao Buquan said, “I gave Nine-Headed Bird his nickname. He’s sharp—smarter than both of you combined.” I snapped, “Cut the crap. What’s the plan? We’re short on time.”

Gao Mo added, “God of Swindles, this is your moment to prove yourself.”

Xiao Buquan smiled. “Patience. Though Nine-Headed Bird has surpassed me, there are two things I never taught him. First, disguise. Often, after being scammed, victims never find the culprit because he changes his appearance. He could befriend you later, and you’d never recognize him. When I was at my peak, I swindled the same person seven times in a year—each time with a different face.”

As he recounted his glory days, pride seeped into his voice.

Talented people are often arrogant. But that poor soul who got scammed seven times—how low was their IQ?

Gao Mo asked, “What’s the second thing?”

Xiao Buquan replied, “Nine-Headed Bird has never seen my real face. Not once.” Gao Mo and I exchanged doubtful glances.

I asked, “So where do we retrieve the contracts? Do we go after Nine-Headed Bird or the Japanese?”

Xiao Buquan said, “Both. And neither.”

I groaned, “Can you speak clearly?”

With a mysterious smile, he said, “Being the God of Swindles isn’t easy. You’ve got potential—want to learn the craft? You’ll dominate the land, fearless.”

I laughed. “Too late. I’ve already mastered the *Buddha’s Palm*. No room for more.”

Xiao Buquan continued, “The contracts are still with Nine-Headed Bird. He’s meeting the Japanese at Weiyang Hotel tomorrow night. But the one staying there is a decoy. The real Nine-Headed Bird is holed up in a cheap motel next to Eagle Flight Tower, ready to flee at any moment.”

According to Xiao Buquan, Nine-Headed Bird was freakishly smart—a man with nine minds, each working differently. I thought, *Isn’t that just multiple personality disorder? If those nine heads start fighting, wouldn’t he just go insane?*