The man named Laughing had barely finished speaking before he collapsed unconscious.
Little Rascal barked again, and from not far away, two motorcycles pulled up by the roadside. Two men were already charging forward with iron rods, their aggressive demeanor making it clear they were after Laughing. I quickly scooped him up and dashed into the crowd. Just then, a female patrol officer in uniform appeared, walking down a slope. I shouted, “Help! Help!”
The officer rushed over—one immediately called for backup while the other prepared to draw her gun. The thugs who had been chasing us scattered at the sight of the police, leaving only one lurking nearby, as if keeping watch.
The injured Laughing was urgently taken to the hospital, and at the officer’s request, I went to the police station to give a statement, recounting everything I had witnessed. Fortunately, my English was decent enough, or else communication would have been impossible.
After questioning me, the officer turned to Xie Xiaoyu. I explained that although my cousin Xie Xiaoyu looked like an adult, her mental capacity was limited and she couldn’t answer questions. Learning that I was a tourist in Hong Kong, the officer kindly ordered takeout for me and carefully fed Little Rascal and the kitten—though the kitten tried to scratch her. I remarked, “This kitten has a bad temper.” The officer suggested I get GPS trackers for them to prevent them from getting lost.
By the time we left the station, it was already dark. The officer drove me to my hotel—the Regent Hotel. I complimented her, saying Hong Kong’s female officers were both beautiful and kind-hearted. She replied professionally, “Serving the public is our duty.”
“May I know your name?” I asked.
She smiled. “I’m Weiwei. You can call me Vivi.”
After dropping me off at the Regent Hotel, Xu Weiwei wished me a pleasant stay in Hong Kong and reminded me that I had to leave within seven days.
I thanked her repeatedly before she drove off. Entering the luxurious Regent Hotel, I shrugged—since I was traveling, I didn’t mind splurging on accommodations. But when I checked in, the front desk manager scrutinized my reservation and, noticing the bloodstains on my clothes, pinched his nose and said, “Maybe you should double-check your booking.”
I pulled out my phone and realized my mistake—I had booked the *Regent Grand Hotel*, not the *Regent Hotel*.
With Little Rascal and the kitten in tow, I navigated through winding alleys until I found the Regent Grand Hotel, its neon lights flickering in the nightlife district.
The owner, speaking Cantonese, led me upstairs, his ample backside swaying. He showed me a room, glancing at Xie Xiaoyu before suggesting, “There are a few brothels next door. Just say Uncle De sent you.”
I declined.
He then boasted, “This room was once occupied by Ling Lingqi—a legendary figure.”
The moment I stepped inside, cockroaches scurried across the floor. Xie Xiaoyu swiftly stomped on a few. Turning on the hot water, more roaches appeared. The bed was messy, and on the table lay several adult magazines with scantily clad women. I barely glanced at them before Little Rascal leaped onto the table, studying them intently.
I smacked him. “You perverted mutt!”
He dodged, knocking a magazine into a puddle. Words emerged on the damp pages:
*”Bring the Jade Corpse. The truth will be revealed on Qingming Festival.”*
I picked it up, but the words vanished quickly. The message was clear: Take the Jade Corpse, and the mystery would unravel in April, on Qingming Festival.
Whoever left this had used an archaic method of communication. A year had passed since the events of last year, and now this.
The night grew colder, but I managed to sleep—until a pungent odor jolted me awake.
It was faint but unmistakable.
*The stench of a corpse.*
No—*corpse energy.*
Was the Regent Grand Hotel the site of a murder? Hong Kong prided itself on being Asia’s safest city—was that reputation undeserved?
Little Rascal’s eyes darted nervously. The kitten perched on the windowsill. Even Xie Xiaoyu seemed unsettled.
I drew my jade ruler—its surface glowed faintly blue.
A zombie was nearby.
I stood, scanning the room. The energy seeped from beyond the door.
Xie Xiaoyu muttered fearfully, as if sensing something terrifying.
What could frighten *her*?
I sketched two corpse-suppressing talismans on my jade ruler and opened the door. It was past midnight.
The corpse energy emanated from upstairs, distorting the hallway lights. My throat tightened.
Even in a metropolis like Hong Kong, powerful zombies lurked.
Several men guarded a door upstairs, scorpion tattoos coiled around their necks. They eyed me, then Xie Xiaoyu, suspiciously. One noticed my gunshot scar.
“What’s your business here?”
“I just want to take a look.”
Their confusion deepened when they spotted Little Rascal.
Xie Xiaoyu swiftly incapacitated them before they could react.
I pushed the door open—guns immediately trained on me.
I raised my hands. “Uncle De sent me.”
The thickest corpse energy came from an inner room.
The men were rough-looking, their dark skin marking them as outsiders. Among them stood Yu Qian, his arm tattooed with the character for *loyalty*.
Back in the Golden Triangle, at Elephant Valley, Yu Qian and Zuo Shan had once fired a rocket launcher at me.
Yu Qian recognized me. “Master Xiao?”
Now I understood—the corpse energy belonged to Dai Zhong, the earth-nurtured corpse Dai Hao had locked in a crystal coffin.
Dai Zhong, raised by my master Ye Guyi in the Golden Triangle, was nearly invincible when grounded. Even with Ma Ruoxing, Abe Lips, and Zuo Shan, we’d struggled to subdue him. Only under the full moon had Xie Xiaoyu managed to lift him off the ground, weakening him enough for us to finish the job.
His presence here meant Dai Hao—the one-armed drug lord—had brought him as a bodyguard.
Was it now fashionable to travel with zombies?
“Yu Qian,” I greeted.
A bald man beside him eyed me warily. “He’s not an undercover cop?”
Yu Qian chuckled. “He’s a fortune-teller.”
I cut to the chase. “Is General Dai here? I sensed corpse energy.”
The bald man sneered. “Bullshit. You here to start trouble?” He pressed a gun to my temple.
Sweat beaded on my palms. Five opponents—I’d need to disable them instantly with insect magic before they could fire.
He Qingling’s blue eyes flickered.
The bald man convulsed, foaming at the mouth.
Yu Qian sighed. “You pissed off the wrong guy.”
The others stared, bewildered.
Yu Qian’s crew, seasoned drug traffickers, remained unfazed. Some recognized me from my work for the “General.”
A commotion outside drew the boss’s attention.
Laughing emerged, his head bandaged, sweat dripping. Behind him limped Dai Hao, followed by Dai Zhong—black-clad, skin darkened, seated in a wheelchair. Unlike Xie Xiaoyu, he couldn’t walk normally, conserving his strength for combat.
Laughing had escaped the hospital before police could question him.
Dai Hao’s eyes lit up at the sight of me—then Xie Xiaoyu.
“Master Xiao! You’re in Hong Kong too?”
Laughing frowned. “You know each other?”
Dai Hao embraced me with his one arm. “Old friends. See that scar? From the jungle.”
*Liar. That scar’s from Jiangcheng.*
Laughing eyed me. “Did Dai send you to rescue me today?”
Dai Hao waved a hand. “Call me Professor. Sounds more respectable.”
They glossed over the afternoon’s events.
Laughing pressed, “Professor, about our deal—”
Dai Hao gestured to Yu Qian. “Talk to him. I’m just here on vacation.”
Yu Qian bowed. “At your service.”
Dai Hao leaned close, whispering, “You got the message too, didn’t you?”
I frowned.
Before I could respond, Laughing drew his gun, aiming at my head.
“I think he’s an undercover cop from the mainland.”
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