Chapter 100: The Art of Mastering Mischief

Zhang Baode was an honest man, but he was well aware that these two guards on watch were capable. If he didn’t take them down decisively, he would be the one suffering losses. So when he struck, he showed no mercy. Since things had come to this point, he was determined to side with the boss; protecting the boss’s interests was ultimately protecting his own.

The deputy head of security was a mid-level manager in the company, earning a clean annual salary of 120,000 yuan, all directly deposited into his payroll account, with monthly bonuses and benefits that were even more generous. Zhang Baode knew that the bonuses alone exceeded the salary by several thousand yuan each year. Being promoted to such a high position, Zhang Baode had only one thought in mind: it was time to act.

If not now, then when?

After knocking the second man down, Zhang Baode did not relent. He struck repeatedly on the bridge of his nose, then took the belts from their waists and tied them up, before sprinting toward the security office. Soon, he returned with two plastic bottles used for cola, each containing more than two-thirds filled with white powder.

Zhang Baode wore gloves—something he always carried in his pocket when leaving home. This was his usual precaution when searching for evidence.

“Boss, this is meth,” Zhang Baode said, not getting into the car but opening the door to place the bottles on the front of the vehicle, then shrugged his shoulders.

No explanation was needed for what “meth” meant; everyone knew.

There was well over five hundred grams of meth—enough to constitute a capital offense.

Chen Aijia’s brow twitched several times. She knew the security department’s night activities were shady, but she hadn’t expected them to be this sordid.

“There’s also a box of syringes in the security office,” Zhang Baode added.

Another batch of drugs!

It turned out the security team were actually drug dealers. Nobody had imagined they’d be so brazen.

“None of these people can be spared,” Chen Aijia said, her jaw tightening with anger.

Anya looked at her silently.

It wasn’t just that they couldn’t be spared; they all needed to be locked up.

Zhang Baode spoke his mind firmly. He insisted that the security team members not only be purged but also subjected to strict legal procedures according to their offenses.

At times like this, leniency was just inviting trouble for oneself. They needed to be completely severed from the company, and punished as necessary.

Many of these people might be pitiable, but Zhang Baode was no different in resisting corruption. How had they not been corrupted by that gang?

Chen Aijia hesitated. With so many involved, would imprisoning them all damage the company’s reputation?

Yang Changfeng locked the elevator door and, before leaving, said, “When we come back, I want to see this place spotless. If I smell even a hint of alcohol, I’ll wash you down with your own blood serum. The door will be left open—anyone who wants to run can try. But come dawn, don’t blame me if I’m ruthless. Everyone has families and friends; I’ll come after them if I have to.”

The air reeked heavily of poppy—a scent Yang Changfeng could not possibly miss.

None of these people would escape, but they wouldn’t be killed once locked up. If they didn’t rack up more crimes, what right would he have to take their heads?

He opened the door, dragged two squad leaders along, walked to the car, and pulled two ropes from the trunk. He tied the ropes around the men’s necks and fastened the other ends to the back of the car.

Zhang Baode was puzzled. “Leader, what are you trying to do?”

“Drag them around town, see who dies and who survives—that’s up to heaven,” Yang Changfeng said sternly. The rain soaked him through, but he enjoyed the freshness of the air during the downpour.

The two men were terrified out of their wits, shouting loudly, scrambling to prove their loyalty and ask for a chance to redeem themselves. Zhang Baode kicked one of them sharply. “Who gave you the chance to redeem yourselves?”

“We confess, we’ll confess to everything. We can snitch on Wang Hu—he’s about to run, an early morning flight. We know where he is now,” the two blurted out, grasping at any hope to save themselves.

Yang Changfeng was dissatisfied. He got into the car and started the engine, ready to drag the two men for punishment.

Chen Aijia felt a flicker of sympathy. Yang Changfeng said, “You take care of your boss. Old Zhang and I will handle this. Hmph. Those who deserve proper treatment will get it. But now is not the time to play the innocent martyr. Put away your compassion—this place doesn’t need mercy or forgiveness; it needs to shake people up with fear.”

Chen Aijia was speechless. He was becoming increasingly rude. “At least you’re the boss. Couldn’t you show a little respect?”

Yang Changfeng rolled his eyes. “Then get out of my way.”

“Fine, fine. Do as you please,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I’ll just be my own boss. You do your thing.”

As the car accelerated, the two squad leaders immediately dropped to their knees.

“We confess! We confess everything! We’ll take you to find Wang Hu. We’re willing to testify against all of Wang Hu’s crimes. We confess right now!” They prostrated themselves, banging their heads hard on the car’s hood.

They had weighed their options: confessing meant jail, but not death. Not confessing meant dealing with a man so ruthless he could kill and dispose of bodies without a trace. Nobody could say whether anyone would intervene.

Zhang Baode understood clearly: the leader was forcing a confession.

And rightly so.

This group deserved no better end. They fed off the company, took from it, and then tried to sabotage it. If these people took over, Zhang Baode’s own livelihood—and that of his family—would be impossible to sustain. The bigger picture was not unrelated to ordinary people; a good society benefits everyone—a shared interest for all.

He immediately offered strategic advice: “Leader, these two aren’t honest. Look—they even have this stuff. I’m sure there’s a drug den. We can’t let them go!”

The two men hastily shouted, “That’s not ours, it belongs to Big Dog. We know where his den is and are willing to provide information.”

Big Dog was a drug dealer who frequented nearby nightclubs and bars—a ringleader of a trafficking gang.

Reportedly, Big Dog commanded over twenty enforcers and hundreds of lower-level dealers, with connections in Southeast Asia. Though he wasn’t the most powerful drug dealer in Jiangzhou, he was certainly among the top ten. He had a good relationship with Wang Hu and used the company’s extensive influence to make the area a dedicated transaction spot.

He was nearby now, and there was supposed to be a major deal tonight.

Earlier, Big Dog’s men had delivered five kilograms of various drugs—some for their own use, but most meant to be distributed by women connected to them. Many of these people were both clients and suppliers to Big Dog.

“They’re about to trade over thirty kilograms. I’ll report them, expose them, I...” The two security squad leaders scrambled to confess, desperate to avoid being dragged onto the street by Yang Changfeng, which would be a death sentence. And Yang was capable of such brutality.

He was not afraid to kill. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have launched such a violent assault on the security department upon arrival. The man injured in the daytime assault was still hospitalized, likely never to walk again—he was no stranger to dark secrets.