Twin moons hung overhead. The wind was cool.
Outside Slum Building 89, barbecue smoke rose in thick, greasy waves.
Shirtless men crowded around outdoor tables, downing iced beer, shouting, boasting, slapping palms in drinking games.
Faces red, tempers hot—one guy even cracked a bottle over another's head on the spot. Nobody stopped it. People cheered.
This was Zhongyi Hall territory.
Their creed was simple: big meat, big booze, big fists.
If you had a problem, you fought. Win or lose, once the fight ended, the grudge ended too. Break the rule and everyone turned on you.
In a nearby alley, Chen Xiu and Texas peeked out carefully, watching.
"Didn't think this place would be a gang stronghold," Chen Xiu sighed. "No wonder the guy dodged the L.G.D.—he's got local snakes sheltering him."
"Room 211. Huang Mingjie, right?" Texas confirmed.
"Yeah." Chen Xiu nodded. "But with it like this… wouldn't it be safer to hit him when he tries to slip out of Lungmen after midnight? If we move now, it's pretty dangerous."
He didn't know whose turf this was, but instinctively, he didn't want to provoke it.
He grew up under law and order; his only "gangs" came from TV shows. Seeing criminals openly gathering like this was surreal.
Lungmen really needed a serious anti-crime campaign.
Texas glanced at Chen Xiu's faintly knitted brows and caught the quiet fear beneath his calm.
For someone raised in a Sami tribe—someone who'd never dealt with modern urban brutality—this reaction was perfectly normal. It was survival instinct.
Then Chen Xiu felt a small, warm hand press down on his own. He turned and met Texas's steady, burning gaze.
"It's fine," she said. "I'm here."
Chen Xiu went a little blank. He felt like she'd misunderstood something.
Texas studied Building 89's layout, her eyes sliding up to the second floor.
"The buildings are close. No security bars. I can jump in from outside… just need to know which window is 211."
"These blocks were probably built as a set. Same exterior, same internal structure." Chen Xiu spoke quietly.
Texas found that logical, and a plan formed quickly.
"Then you wait here. If everything goes smoothly, I'll be back within ten minutes."
Chen Xiu didn't argue. Professionals did professional things.
"Be careful. If it gets risky, retreat immediately. Your safety first. Lungmen isn't short on wanted criminals—if this one slips away, I'll find another."
The firmness in his warning warmed something in Texas's chest.
Ever since she'd started handling "family matters," nobody had told her that safety mattered more than the mission.
She smiled faintly. Her wolf ears flicked twice, playful—and inside, she swore she'd bring the man back.
There were plenty of criminals hiding in Lungmen, but finding them wasn't easy.
Chen Xiu said that only to ease her conscience if she had to retreat. She wasn't going to take it literally.
Thirty thousand LMD.
Even if it was the smallest payout she'd ever bothered with…
"Understood," she said.
Texas melted into the shadows.
Chen Xiu watched her vanish, tense, monitoring the gang's movement.
Texas sprinted in silence, hopped a low wall, avoided the gang members, and circled to Building 89's side.
She'd already checked other buildings: every "Room 211" was on the second floor, right side, at the far end. Opposite was 212.
Unfortunately, the right side faced the gang's gathering area.
But she'd found small ventilation windows on both sides of the building—she could enter from there.
A burst of speed. A step on the wall. One hand hooked the ledge. A twist and pull.
Texas slipped through the window and landed on the balls of her feet, so light she didn't even trip the hallway sensor lights.
Her eyes flicked to the side—then froze.
Why was this 212?
She checked again.
The opposite door—that one was 211.
She leaned closer and instantly spotted the clue: the room numbers had been tampered with.
With the target's cheap trick exposed, Texas curled her lip in disdain, pulled out a thin wire, and slid it into the lock.
Slum housing was old, poorly maintained. The "security door" was basically a joke.
A few seconds later—click.
Texas pushed the door open a crack.
Darkness. She slipped in—and stared at an empty room.
For a moment, she went silent.
Had he already fled Lungmen early?
No. This place looked unused for ages—mildew stank in the air.
Texas turned, suddenly realizing.
Had Chen Xiu meant the door labeled 211?
It didn't cost much to confirm. She'd check across.
She moved to leave—then paused. The hall light came on.
When it faded again, Texas flashed out, pressed to the opposite door, and picked the lock in one smooth chain of motion.
She crept to the bed, slammed a hand down on the sleeping figure, and snapped, "Huang Mingjie?"
The man's violent flinch told her everything.
She struck once—knocked him out cold—then bound his hands and feet.
"So it was this room. Guess I overthought it…"
Texas carried Huang Mingjie and jumped from the second floor. She didn't even bother to absorb the landing—just ran.
Minutes later, Chen Xiu stared at the wanted criminal tossed at his feet like a sack of meat, and gained a new understanding of Tex-Dog's strength.
One trip, one binding, one haul—total time felt like it wasn't even six minutes.
If she didn't want to keep the noise down, she could probably storm in and take him outright.
"Texas—beautiful work!" Chen Xiu beamed, giving her a thumbs-up. "That's thirty thousand in the bag!"
Texas replied modestly, "It's mostly because you knew where he was. Without that, I wouldn't have caught him."
"No—don't." Chen Xiu lifted a hand and countered the praise. "If I'd gone in, I'd probably have delivered myself to his doorstep."
They exchanged a grin and slapped palms—an easy, wordless understanding.
This had worked because both of them mattered.
"Now we just deliver him to the L.G.D. and claim the bounty."
Chen Xiu looked toward Lungmen's Trade Tower. It was just past midnight.
A new day.
Which meant…
His daily intel should refresh.
-------
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