The cold steel barrel of the mercenary captain’s assault rifle was leveled steady, six inches from Lin Mo’s forehead.
Behind the captain, twenty-nine mercenaries kept their submachine guns raised, their boots clicking against the bloody canvas of the arena floor. The heavy steel blast doors remained sealed shut, trapping two hundred trembling gamblers beneath the reinforced concrete vault.
Up in the ruined VIP box, Zhao Kun leaned over the fractured railing, waving a sheaf of blue-stamped legal documents like a battle flag.
“Nobody leaves this hall alive without my permission!” Zhao Kun shouted down at the pit, his voice shrill with manic triumph. “This entire underground bunker has a primary commercial mortgage held by Zhao Real Estate! Under municipal emergency clauses, our consortium holds full lien rights over every asset inside! I declare Lin Mo’s bidding funds illicit! Confiscate the Nine-Turn Gold Needles! Confiscate the wild blood-ginseng! If anyone resists, shoot them where they stand!”
The mercenary captain smirked, his finger tightening on the curved trigger of his rifle.
“You heard Chairman Zhao,” the captain said coldly. “Hand over the sandalwood box, boy. Do not make me pull this trigger.”
Lin Mo did not blink. His posture remained relaxed, his hands resting easily in his trouser pockets.
Zhao Kun is waving a piece of paper like a magic talisman, Lin Mo thought, finding the sight almost comical. When he has no money and no fighters, he suddenly remembers legal clauses. But he forgot who holds the real checkbook in this city.
Beside Lin Mo, Su Wan remained perfectly poised, her face cool and undisturbed.
“A commercial mortgage only confers lien rights after formal judicial foreclosure,” Su Wan remarked calmly, loud enough for the mercenaries to hear. “Waving an uncertified private contract while threatening civilians with military firearms constitutes armed robbery and municipal terrorism.”
The mercenary captain scowled, his gun barrel twitching.
“Shut up, woman! The law does not reach thirty feet underground!”
Before Tie Niu could swing his cold-iron sabre, a sharp, clear voice rang out from the side of the stage.
“Put those guns down, you shameless bandits!”
An elderly man in a gray scholar’s robe strode through the velvet curtains. He was seventy years old, with thin white hair combed neatly back and round wire-rimmed spectacles resting on his nose. In his right hand, he held a heavy brass-handled appraisal magnifying glass.
This was Master Wen, the chief antique appraiser of the Jiangcheng Underground Exchange.
Above Master Wen’s head, the System displayed a clear, brilliant green halo: Goodness: 90/100.
For forty years, Master Wen had worked in the shadows of the antique trade. He had refused millions in bribes from foreign smuggling rings, secretly documenting stolen cultural relics and alerting provincial heritage bureaus. He was the quiet moral spine of the entire facility.
Master Wen walked directly past the gun barrels, placing his slender, frail body between the mercenary captain and seven-year-old Little Guo’er. He held his magnifying glass up like an imperial scepter.
“Master Wen, step aside!” the mercenary captain barked, frowning. “This has nothing to do with you! Chairman Zhao owns the debt on this facility!”
“You lie through your teeth!” Master Wen yelled, his old voice booming with righteous anger. “This underground bunker was built fifty years ago by the Jiangcheng Cultural Relic Preservation Guild! Three years ago, Zhao Real Estate used corrupt municipal clerks to issue a fraudulent eight-million-yuan predatory loan against our deed! You drove our preservation board into default so you could turn this sacred historical vault into an illegal blood-sport pit!”
Master Wen turned toward the VIP box, pointing his magnifying glass directly at Zhao Kun’s nose.
“Zhao Kun! The mortgage redemption deadline expires at midnight tonight!” Master Wen shouted. “The principal and interest total exactly ten million yuan! As long as our guild repays that debt before twelve o’clock, the deed returns to the public trust! You have no legal authority to seize a single needle!”
Up in the VIP box, Zhao Kun burst into mocking laughter.
“Ten million yuan in cash before midnight?” Zhao Kun mocked, spitting blood onto the rail. “Old bookworm, the banks closed at five in the afternoon! Your cultural guild does not have ten thousand yuan in its accounts! Who in Jiangcheng will hand an old beggar ten million liquid cash in the middle of the night?”
Lin Mo stepped forward, standing beside Master Wen.
He looked at the old scholar’s clean green halo. For forty years, this man had guarded the city’s heritage without asking for fame or wealth. He had risked his life tonight to shield an orphan girl and an ancient medical artifact.
“Master Wen,” Lin Mo said in a calm, clear voice. “I will hand you the cash.”
Master Wen turned his head, adjusting his spectacles in surprise.
“Young man,” Master Wen said softly, his voice full of concern. “You do not understand. This facility has three sub-levels and sixty thousand square meters of reinforced bomb shelters. Zhao Kun’s family has held our guild by the throat for years. Clearing the debt requires cleared cash, verified by the municipal escrow server.”
Shen Qiaoqiao stepped up beside Lin Mo, holding her tablet in both hands. Her fingers flew across the glass screen with mechanical precision.
“Chairman Lin,” Shen Qiaoqiao announced. “I have already interfaced with the Provincial Heritage Protection Escrow Clearinghouse. The mortgage deed for the Jiangcheng Underground Cultural & Antique Exchange is registered under Municipal Ledger Number 0418. Total settlement figure: ten million yuan flat. Payment destination: Jiangcheng Relic Preservation Public Escrow Account.”
Lin Mo pulled his Black-Gold Sovereign Benevolence Card from his shirt pocket and handed it to Master Wen.
“Master Wen,” Lin Mo said, his tone gentle and steady. “I am buying this entire facility on your behalf. Not for my profit, but to restore it to the cultural trust. From tonight on, this underground bunker will no longer host illegal fights or smuggling rings. It will become the Taichu Righteous Heritage Pavilion. And you will serve as our permanent Chief Curator with full executive authority.”
Master Wen’s eyes filled with tears behind his thick lenses. His wrinkled hands trembled as he touched the edges of the card.
“Chairman Lin...” Master Wen whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “You would spend ten million yuan of your personal wealth on an old scholar’s dream?”
“A city that forgets its culture has no future,” Lin Mo answered simply. “Tap the screen.”
Spending ten million on culture and heritage, Lin Mo thought with a wry smile. Zhao Kun thought he was setting an inescapable trap. In reality, he just guided me to another billion-yuan profit.
Master Wen pressed the card against Shen Qiaoqiao’s escrow terminal.
BEEP.
A crisp, musical chime echoed inside Lin Mo’s consciousness:
[Ding! Detected spending of ¥10,000,000.00 RMB on Public Heritage Rescue & Cultural Institution Purchase!]
[Target Beneficiary: Master Wen (Goodness: 90/100, Master Relic Appraiser & Righteous Guardian of Culture)!]
[Acquisition: Jiangcheng Underground Cultural & Antique Facility (60,000 sq meters, complete deed & security rights)!]
[Purpose: Establishing Taichu Righteous Heritage Pavilion, eliminating black-market smuggling and illegal combat rings!]
[Pure Altruistic Intent Verified: Host dedicates property entirely to cultural preservation and public trust!]
[Triggering 100x Pure Benevolence System Refund!]
[Cash Refund Received: +¥1,000,000,000.00 RMB!]
[Funds deposited directly into Host Personal Liquid Vault!]
[Personal Liquid Vault: ¥84,000,000,000.00 RMB!]
[Benevolence Merit Points: +1,000,000 BMP | Total BMP: 176,949,528 BMP!]
[Good People Network Expanded: 9,576 Verified Righteous Allies (+21: Master Wen and 20 facility preservation wardens)!]
One billion more in cleared cash, Lin Mo thought, watching his liquid vault climb to eighty-four billion yuan. Zhao Kun wanted to use a ten-million mortgage to rob us. Instead, he just handed me his entire underground fortress.
On the podium, the facility’s central control terminal chimed loudly.
A massive green shield emblem flashed across the overhead digital display screens:
[Notice: Mortgage Debt Cleared in Full by Municipal Escrow.]
[Ownership Transferred: Taichu Righteous Heritage Pavilion.]
[Executive Administrator: Chief Curator Master Wen.]
[All Zhao Group Security Credentials Revoked Immediately.]
Zhao Kun stared at the giant screens, his jaw hanging slack.
“No... impossible!” Zhao Kun screamed, clutching his hair with both hands. “My family’s mortgage! The deed was supposed to default to us at midnight! How did he clear ten million yuan through provincial escrow in three seconds?!”
Master Wen pulled an antique silver whistle from his pocket and blew a long, shrill blast.
TWEET!
From the catwalks, ventilation corridors, and control rooms above, heavy steel grates opened.
Twenty uniformed security wardens stepped out, carrying heavy riot shields, rubber-bullet shotguns, and electric batons. These were Master Wen’s loyal preservation guards, honest men who had worked at the museum for decades. Their Goodness Scores shone in solid greens between 82/100 and 89/100.
“Chief Curator Wen!” the lead warden shouted from the gantry above. “The main security grid is in our hands! We have isolated all secondary power feeds!”
“Arrest these Zhao family mercenaries!” Master Wen commanded, pointing his magnifying glass at the armed thugs. “They are trespassing on public heritage grounds!”
The mercenary captain’s face turned pale. He realized his contract was dead and the exits were locked from the inside.
In a panic, the captain swung his assault rifle back toward Lin Mo, intending to fire a desperate burst.
SWISH.
A blur of dark bronze muscle moved faster than thought.
Tie Niu stepped in, his massive left hand closing over the receiver of the assault rifle. With a slight twist of his thick fingers, the hardened steel barrel crumpled like wet cardboard.
CRUNCH.
Tie Niu tore the rifle from the captain’s hands, snapped the steel stock over his knee, and tossed the broken pieces onto the canvas.
“You dropped your toy,” Tie Niu said calmly.
The captain staggered back, staring at his empty hands in sheer terror. Behind him, the other twenty-nine mercenaries saw the crumpled steel rifle and the twenty wardens aiming shotguns from the catwalks above.
One by one, the mercenaries threw their weapons onto the floor.
CLATTER! CLATTER! CLATTER!
Dozens of rifles and shotguns bounced across the concrete.
“We surrender! We were just hired muscle! Do not shoot!”
Master Wen’s security wardens rushed down the metal stairs, kicking the discarded weapons aside and snapping heavy steel handcuffs onto the mercenaries’ wrists.
Within three minutes, every mercenary was disarmed, pinned to the floor, and marched off toward the security holding cells.
The two hundred high-rolling gamblers in the booths let out massive sighs of relief, slowly crawling out from under their tables. They looked down at Lin Mo with a mixture of awe and absolute terror. In a single evening, this young man had broken the underground champion, swept every auction relic, and bought the entire colosseum out from under Zhao Kun’s feet.
Up in the VIP box, Zhao Kun slumped onto his knees among the broken porcelain and tea leaves. His expensive suit was torn, his hair was matted with sweat, and his eyes were hollow.
Beside him, Zhao Kai was curled into a trembling ball, staring at the floor tiles like an empty shell.
Lin Mo did not even look at them.
He turned his back on the VIP box and walked toward the center of the fighting cage.
He looked at the fifty disabled martial veterans who stood along the ring.
These old soldiers had held their canes and raised their scarred fists to protect Little Guo’er and Dr. Gu. They had stood firm against thirty assault rifles without stepping back an inch. Their loyalty and courage were beyond question.
Lin Mo raised his hand, gesturing toward the ring.
“Brothers,” Lin Mo called out, his voice rich, warm, and resonant. “Come into the cage.”
The fifty veterans exchanged confused glances.
“Chairman Lin?” the old peg-legged veteran asked, limping forward. “The fight is over. The mercenaries are captured. Why do you want us inside the cage?”
Lin Mo smiled warmly.
“The fighting is over,” Lin Mo said. “Now it is time for healing. Dean Gu has the Nine-Turn Gold Needles. Little Guo’er has the pure lotus halo. And we have the essence of the three-hundred-year wild blood-ginseng. Tonight, not a single one of you will leave this hall with broken bones or shattered meridians.”