The driver glared stubbornly. "This order comes straight from the Penguin. I'm operating with a certified robbery license. If you resist, you'll be disrespecting him."
Lin Chen stepped out of the car with an amused smile, opened the driver's door, and—with casual precision—kicked the man squarely in the chest. The "licensed" bandit screamed and crumpled.
"Why on earth should I give him face?" Lin Chen remarked, following it up with another kick that left the man unconscious. "Ridiculous."
The Southern District Police Department
A taxi pulled up to the station. Lin Chen climbed out, found Detective Jill, and spread his hands in exasperation."Lovely detective, I just got off the plane—and I've already been robbed."
Jill blinked. "Really? Someone with that much nerve? Must be quite a professional."
Lin Chen tossed a crumpled certificate onto her desk. Jill picked it up, scanned it, and laughed. "A one-star robbery permit? That's practically amateur level."
"This thing has grades?" Lin Chen asked incredulously.
"Of course. Only three-star and above can organize major operations—banks, armored cars, that sort of thing." Jill produced her own three-star golden-edged license with mock pride.
Lin Chen chuckled. "Didn't expect you to be certified too. Guess we're colleagues now."
Rolling her eyes, Jill replied, "Hardly. I'm two stars ahead of you, rookie."
"And Gordon allows this?" Lin Chen asked.
She sighed. "Commissioner Gordon only oversees the Southern District. The higher-ups cut a deal with the Penguin—issuing licenses to 'control' crime rates."
Lin Chen gave her a look. "So basically, everyone's a salted fish now?"
Jill shrugged. "Pretty much. I planned to relax and watch your livestream, but you haven't been online. Boring days."
Just then, Harley Quinn bounced in, handing Jill a glossy package. "Sister Jill! Gift from the Taoist!"
Jill peeked inside, smiling as her eyes gleamed. "He still remembers me… wait, a lace hood? How did he even know my size? That pervert!"
"One piece of rough U.S. currency—worth my monthly salary!" she gasped. "Can you even afford this?"
Harley giggled. "I picked the size. The priest chose the style."
Jill's cheeks reddened; Lin Chen groaned inwardly. Great. Now I look like the villain.
"Since you two seem free," Lin Chen said, changing the subject, "come over for dinner. I'm making hotpot."
"Hotpot?" Jill's eyes brightened. "Count me in. I've been dieting all week!"
Lin Chen grinned. "Dieting? Doesn't look like it—you're still as fierce as ever."
"Why don't you die!" she snapped, lunging at him.
Moments later, laughter echoed through Lin Chen's two-story apartment as the trio shopped for ingredients, cooked, and devoured the steaming meal.
Between mouthfuls, Jill and Harley whispered and giggled. Lin Chen leaned back and sighed theatrically. "Ah, I'm ill."
Jill frowned. "What's wrong with you now?"
He straightened, face solemn. "A sickness called Cao Thief. Chronic. Highly contagious."
Harley blinked. "Cao Thief? What kind of disease is that?"
"Don't worry," Lin Chen said lightly. "Stay the night and I'll recover."
Jill snorted. "You're hopeless."
Then, mid-bite, she stiffened. "Two people outside. They've been watching us."
"I noticed," Lin Chen replied calmly. "Just a couple of Asans. Ignore them. Eat."
The fragrance of hotpot drifted out into the street, tormenting the hungry spies outside.
"One man, two beauties, and a feast," one of them muttered. "Unforgivable."
"We must tell Master Lager immediately," the other hissed. "The Taoist is here."
Master Lager's Revenge
Master Lager seethed. Ever since his public humiliation—the stroller-crash incident—his streaming career had collapsed. Now he'd gathered a handful of followers to reclaim his pride.
Across the street, Lin Chen quietly placed a few stones by the shop entrance, pressing talismans beneath them. Jill raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"
"A simplified Nine Palaces Eight Trigrams formation," Lin Chen explained. "They can enter, but they won't leave."
Jill scoffed. "You expect me to believe a few pebbles can trap people?"
Harley whispered, "Sister Jill, he once made an entire alley vanish in New York."
Jill blinked, unconvinced but wary.
Half an hour later, five Asans appeared at the corner, Master Lager among them in his wheelchair. He pointed toward Lin Chen's shop, teeth clenched. "Brothers, there's our target."
On his phone, he went live. "Netizens! Today we confront Lin Daoist and expose his hypocrisy!"
Viewers flooded in—tens of thousands within minutes.
"So that's where the director disappeared—eating hotpot!""With two girls? Unforgivable!""Master Lager, avenge us!""Force him to stream!""Wait, he still looks good on camera…"
Lager's eyelid twitched. Are these even my fans anymore?
Still, he pressed on. "He's scared. Let's go!"
They marched across the street—and suddenly the world went black. No light, no sound, only suffocating darkness.
"What the—power outage?""I can't see a thing!""Turn on your phone flashlight!"
The beams cut nothing but mist and void. The formation had closed around them.
Meanwhile, in the live chat:
"Why's the screen all black?""Are they filming Blair Witch?""They were right there a second ago!""I think they're screaming."
Inside the trap, faint groans echoed. Outside, Lin Chen clinked his chopsticks, smiling as Jill and Harley sipped their soup.
"Let the audience enjoy the show," he murmured.
-----------------------
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(End of Chapter)