VESSEL - Extinction Countdown 967: Secrets and Scum Rise

Xiedi City.

Hanfeng Design Studio, on the surface, offers residential interior design. In truth, its wealth flows from elite Feng Shui surveys, seeking dragon points and performing spirit-cleansing rites.

The nominal boss, an old woman with gold-rimmed glasses and a faint smile, is known as YiQueen.

She sits in a plush office chair, gazing at the city’s skyscrapers, holding a fresh report.

The first page bears a name and a yellowed photo, the name stamped with a red “Pending.”

The photo, from Ye Shisan’s forced treatment admission, lies in government archives—where he seems not to exist.

Twenty years have passed. The boy is now a thirty-four-year-old man.

He swirls at the center of every odd event.

As YiQueen ponders, her office door swings open. Someone strides in without a knock.

“Ninth Squad’s energy analysis says Ye Shisan’s force field was neutralized by that girl. Old hag, send a team to check her,” she snaps.

“Azi, knock next time!” YiQueen sighed. “I brought you into civilization, not to spread rudeness!”

“Tch! So naggy!” Azi scoffed.

Azi tossed the report onto YiQueen’s desk and turned to leave.

“Azi, new assignments are coming,” YiQueen said. “Don’t wander off.”

“Get someone else. I’ve got personal business,” Azi replied.

“Oh?”

“Day after tomorrow, it’s a year since I left. I’m visiting my dad’s grave.”

YiQueen paused, nodding. “I’ll assign another. Go, but be quick. If Ye Shisan loses control, I’ve got no way to stop him.”

“Get Officer Jia to send Qin Ke. That guy’s already commanding,” Azi quipped.

Azi meant Qin Ke, the man Ye Shisan and Yi Qing met in the villa’s basement, now commander of Fireseed’ Yue Citadel T.P.E.F. unit.

“Yue Citadel Project just launched, low on manpower,” YiQueen said. “We’ll need peripheral teams.”

“Then I’ll handle Ye Shisan before I go,” Azi smirked.

YiQueen laughed. “Sure, and take out every rival while you’re at it.”

Azi fell silent, catching her drift.

YiQueen eyed the data. “This Vanilla girl—I checked. No records here, and her silver hair says she’s not local. Neutralized Ye Shisan’s field? I’m skeptical. A Heart Demon, tamed by a kid?”

Azi frowned. “Old hag, you know I barely read. This report’s nonsense to me.”

“That reminds me—I got you a tutor! Twenties, top master’s, young, bright, handsome,” YiQueen teased.

“Find someone who can block one of my strikes,” Azi shot back. “I might chop the next tutor in a rage. I’m out.”

Azi left, closing the door. YiQueen, alone, stared at Ye Shisan’s and Vanilla’s reports. “This mess is more trouble than my twenty years in Northern Might Empire,” she muttered.

Yingtian City, Sweet Potato Street.

With A-Qiang’s Game Parlor booming, the street swarms with thugs, junkies, and gamblers.

Gambling breeds vice—drugs, lust. Addicts, rich or poor, chase highs or thrills, fleeing their helpless lives.

A-Qiang’s Game Parlor claims to be a gaming hall, but its backrooms hold slot machines, fishing games, and ball spinners—all gambling rigs.

He Dali’s smooth talk fended off inspections, and Li Fang’s tight books fueled their “hot” days.

Seventeen-year-old dropouts trail He Qiang calling him “Brother Qiang.”

With cash and lackeys, He Qiang’s dubbed himself “King of Sweet Potato Street.”

This central slum of old houses holds little wealth, ignored by big gangs—until now.

He Qiang thrives, styling as “Sweet Potato Street’s Brother Qiang.” The quiet street hums with chaos.

Today, He Qiang rose past noon. After freshening up, he checked Shisan Bakery next door for those beauties—Yi Qing haunts his dreams, even as he beds delivery girls.

The bakery’s locked. He cursed, spat phlegm on the glass door, and stomped back.

As he stepped in, brakes squealed. A sedan pulled up. A black-stockinged leg stepped out—Secretary Hu, unseen for days.

He Qiang recalled groping her in past chaos. His groin stirred. She’s Lin Changrong’s aid? Here for that nutcase Ye Shisan again?

Fuming, he grinned. “Well, Miss Hu! Here for my bro?”

Hu, taller, eyed his pocked face with disgust. “For you,” she snapped.

“Me?”

His pulse raced. He leered her at chest, swallowing. “Got a thing for me? Good taste! I’m He Qiang, boss now, with a dozen boys. I run Sweet Potato Street!”

Hu rolled her eyes. “What fantasy? Mr. Lin offers you a job at Xiehe. Ten grand a month. In?”

“Ten grand? What job?”

“Warehouse at a subsidiary. Log, count, receive, and ship medical supplies.”

“What? A warehouse grunt? I’m a boss! Lin’s insulting me! No way!”

Hu smirked. “Fine, message delivered.”

She turned, heading to her car.

He Dali rushed up. “Miss Hu! Ten grand? If Qiang’s out, I’m in!”

Li Fang threw a broom, yelling, “You old fool, butting in? Lin wants Qiang! Ten grand, Qiang! The shop’s fine with us. Go!”