Chapter 23: The Old Industrial District

At the entrance to a construction site on the outskirts of the city, Greyhound waited anxiously for his underling to arrive. The old industrial district of Pingyuan City had been abandoned for over a decade and was quite a distance from the city center; even on foot, he wouldn't reach it by dawn, so he needed his underling to pick him up.

It was nearly dark now, and a group of workers crowded around a lunchbox stall to buy dinner. Greyhound felt a pang of hunger, and seeing so many unprotected pockets made his hands itch, but there was a major task at hand, and he couldn't afford to be noticed.

If only he had a partner; working in tandem was always more reliable. It would be even better if he encountered someone from the Second District—that would mean a hefty profit. Greyhound possessed the face of a Second District East Asian, and his usual tactic was to latch onto a "countryman"—preferably someone fresh to the Tenth District. Such people were gullible, timid, and easy to trust their own kind; it would be a sin not to take advantage of them. Greyhound would distract the target with small talk while his accomplice stole their valuables from another direction. Then, the two would disperse and meet elsewhere, mission accomplished.

Working alone was simply too risky.

Greyhound crouched in the shadows of the street corner, scratching the old scars on his arms and face. By his own account, these scars were from knife fights, the very origin of his nickname, but only Greyhound knew the truth. Since that day, he had never dared to "work" alone.

A construction vehicle carrying a loader rumbled to a stop at the corner, and Greyhound’s phone vibrated instantly. He walked straight over, stepped on the tire to climb into the passenger seat, and slammed the door shut. "Let’s go, hurry! Don't keep Brother Qiang waiting!"

On the way, Greyhound typed a text message to his inside contact on the ship, demanding an explanation. "Things are a mess at home. What happened?"

The contact replied quickly: "A big tabby cat suddenly came in to catch mice. Couldn't stop it!"

The cat was the police, and the "big tabby" referred to a newly appointed high-level official who hadn't been bribed. Catching mice meant conducting inspections. Greyhound pursed his lips, piecing together what had happened. It was likely that his inside contact had been negligent, only realizing the trouble as they neared the dock.

Normally, they could have diverted the route and disposed of the cargo on the high seas, but who would have expected the coast guard to conduct a surprise inspection? Because it was ordered by a high-ranking official, the mole couldn't relay the information quickly and had to scramble to move the goods before the police boarded. Throwing them into the sea was out of the question; the currents nearby were strange and would wash any floating bodies ashore that very day. Recently, the atmosphere had been tense, and it was easy to trigger a major incident.

Damned bad luck, having these two things collide.

There was no choice now but to find somewhere deserted to bury the cargo. They had used the old industrial district before; it was riddled with deep pits dug for pipelines, perfect for the job. Taking a loader was exactly the right move.

Thinking of this, Greyhound sent another text to a different subordinate, ordering him to buy some whole pigs, or large chunks of meat if that wasn't possible. The result didn't matter as much as the attitude of getting the job done. He had to resolve this perfectly before Brother Qiang even thought about it.

Once they left the city outskirts, the streetlights vanished. The truck turned on its high beams and headed toward the old industrial district. Greyhound rolled down the window, and the underling driving immediately reached over to hand him a medicated cigarette.

As the smoke filled his lungs, Greyhound’s anxiety subsided, and his nerves relaxed. It was fine; everything was arranged. Brother Qiang had only notified him, which was proof of his trust. Counting the three henchmen he had called to clean up, there were only five people who knew about this. That was more than enough to handle a dozen bodies and clear up the mess quickly.

As for exposure? The old industrial district was a desolate place where even drug dealers were too lazy to meet, fearing they might lose their footing and fall into a pit, dying without anyone ever finding them. Moreover, it was "Blue Signal" territory; no one would go there looking for trouble.

***

Descending the final stretch of the mountain road, Shi Rang noticed a construction vehicle winding its way from the city.

He didn't dare turn on any lights in the darkness, carefully feeling his way with his hands and feet as he descended the path to the edge of the industrial zone. The area was vast, with factories huddled along the riverbanks. The rusted buildings and industrial facilities formed a perilous iron jungle; if he were to search on his own, he would likely find nothing. But the truck’s lights were glaring, glowing like a lighthouse in the drizzling night.

Just as Shi Rang slid onto the pitted concrete ground, the vehicle turned in from about ten meters ahead, reversing its rear toward the back, and drove forward with its high beams on, acting as a guide for Shi Rang.

He followed.

Shi Rang carefully shielded his flashlight, using a faint glimmer to check the ground to avoid falling into pits or cracks, moving cautiously. The truck also drove slowly, carefully avoiding toppled smelting furnaces, deformed metal frames, and large holes in the road. Back and forth, it was as if the construction vehicle was leading Shi Rang deeper into the industrial zone.

Before long, the truck stopped deep within the industrial zone, and several beams of light flickered nearby.

Shi Rang turned off his flashlight and crouched down.

The distant, swaying light beams occasionally swept toward him, but the source was too far away; the people over there couldn't distinguish him from the scrap metal. He could vaguely hear many people talking, and soon, the roar of machinery began.

Were they going to destroy the evidence here? Was Greyhound on-site?

The investigative authority he had worked so hard to secure was useless now. In these ruins, far from civilization and with no signal, Shi Rang had to rely on himself. He tried to think of a way to ambush Greyhound or alert the police so they could catch them red-handed.

As he struggled to think, a stench suddenly drifted into his nostrils.

It was the smell of rot, difficult to compare to the garbage cans by the roadside in terms of foulness. Yet, before Shi Rang could identify the source, his instincts deciphered the nature of the scent.

In an instant, the hair on his body stood on end, and his teeth began to chatter.

Before him were vicious criminals; on the other side was an inexplicable, putrid stench. The latter, relatively speaking, was less terrifying and might serve as a breakthrough.

Shi Rang crouched low, carefully following the scent toward its source.

His flashlight beam faded as he moved behind a factory building. He felt a downward slope and crawled along the rain-slicked ramp, descending slowly. Eventually, the angle became too steep to stand, and he sat down, sliding down the incline.

His extended foot touched something resilient and soft.

Shi Rang tried to pull his foot back, but no matter where he stepped, the horrific sensation remained. He covered the front of his flashlight and carefully clicked the switch.

A tangled mass of limbs suddenly appeared before his eyes.

Human hands, feet, clothing, and faces were forcibly compressed, filling every gap in the circle of light. Several wide-open eyes exploded into Shi Rang's field of vision all at once.

The stench became suddenly, violently unbearable. Shi Rang tried to turn his head away, but his foot slipped, and he fell, sliding directly onto the pile of corpses. He struggled to crawl back, but his hands and feet skidded on the factory’s loading ramp.

The scent of death rushed into his nose. He used his last bit of strength to tilt his head aside.

Tears and bile surged out together. Shi Rang felt as if he were about to vomit his stomach out; eventually, it was his completely emptied stomach that ended his retching. He tremblingly examined the pile, feeling certain he saw Ying Shang’s face within it. When he flicked the light to look again, that face had shifted to the edge of his vision, staring at him from another direction, eyes wide with the shock of death.

He wanted to take a deep breath, but the foul, dead air stopped him.

Finally, Shi Rang regained control of his body and forced himself to look elsewhere. The bodies were piled on a waterfront platform, and there was a staircase nearby that led back to the previous slope. He had to climb up and then find an opportunity—

"It's right down there, hurry up!"

A flashlight beam flashed at the top of the loading ramp.

"Move it, get down there and haul the stuff up. The sooner we finish, the sooner we go home!"