Ye Mo traveled much faster on his return journey alone. Even though he took time along the way to gather some medicinal herbs, it only took him three days to get back to Liushé, to the place where he had been staying.
But the sight that greeted him made his rage explode on the spot.
In just a little over twenty days, the place he had lived in had been completely ruined—collapsed walls, rubble everywhere. That wasn't even the worst of it. What made his blood boil was that the small plot of land he had carefully cleared and prepared for planting Silver-Heart Grass was completely trashed.
Crack!
With a loud bang, Ye Mo kicked a boulder the size of a millstone. Under the force of his true qi, the massive rock shattered into pieces.
That small patch of Silver-Heart Grass was the most precious thing he had. He had planted nineteen seeds there. And now—it was gone. Completely destroyed.
Where the hell was Fang Nan?
Ye Mo was about to storm into Liushé to confront Fang Nan when a young man hurriedly ran over. Spotting Ye Mo standing outside the ruined temple, the man quickly approached and said respectfully, "Brother Ye, Brother Nan asked me to wait for you here. You've finally returned."
It was a man in his twenties—Ye Mo recognized him. He had been standing behind Fang Nan the first time they met. His name was Stone.
Ye Mo forced himself to suppress the burning fury in his chest. Silver-Heart Grass was more important to him than anything. Now that half of it was gone, how could he not be furious?
But he wasn't someone who acted out of pure emotion. He wanted to understand the situation first. But if he found out someone was responsible, he wouldn't hesitate to make them pay with their life.
Seeing Ye Mo's grim face, Stone quickly explained, "Brother Ye, after you left, there was a conflict over the profits left behind by the Thirteen Tyrants. Brother Nan and the other major gang in Liushé—the Vietnamese Gang—disagreed on the distribution.
"At first, Brother Nan didn't fear them, but the Vietnamese Gang teamed up with the Filipino Gang, who never cared for rules. They launched a surprise attack on our Blade Gang.
"Brother Nan was seriously injured. The brothers carried him here to recover, but they were followed. Only a few of us managed to break out with him. He told me to wait for you here and said he was deeply sorry for failing to protect what you entrusted him with."
Ye Mo listened silently, his face like iron. He understood that if Fang Nan hadn't brought his men to hide in the temple, perhaps his Silver-Heart Grass wouldn't have been destroyed.
If Fang Nan had used this as a scheme—to get Ye Mo angry at the Vietnamese Gang so Ye Mo would destroy them for him—then Ye Mo wouldn't hesitate to wipe out the Blade Gang as well.
But after thinking it over, he realized Fang Nan probably wasn't that kind of person.
Ye Mo walked into the courtyard. His precious plot was completely trampled, the soil overturned beyond recognition. Still, Ye Mo searched carefully and found a few scattered seeds.
Seeing those seeds calmed his mood somewhat.
But what truly sank Ye Mo's heart was this: even without the damage, his Silver-Heart Grass still wouldn't have grown. The seeds he found were already rotting, showing no signs of sprouting. Clearly, this place lacked the conditions needed to grow them.
Apparently, Silver-Heart Grass needed a very specific environment—likely one rich in spiritual energy. He had no idea why it could grow in that little courtyard he once lived in, but this temple clearly didn't work.
Turning around, Ye Mo said to Stone, "Take me to see Fang Nan." His expression had already regained calm, but a deadly chill lingered beneath the surface.
Fang Nan was currently in a remote mountain cave, barely surviving. Including Stone, he now had only six men left.
Seeing Ye Mo enter, Fang Nan tried to struggle to his feet, shame written all over his face. He knew how important that small plot of land was to Ye Mo. And now it had been destroyed—because of him.
If he had to do it all over again, he would never have let his men bring him there to hide.
Ye Mo saw Fang Nan's genuine remorse and waved his hand. "It's not your fault. Let me take a look at your wound first."
Fang Nan had been shot twice, but for Ye Mo, this was nothing. In less than half an hour, he had completely treated Fang Nan's injuries.
Then Ye Mo stood up and said coldly, "I'm going to Liushé to find out who destroyed what belongs to me. You stay here and rest. You'll be able to go back tonight."
Fang Nan immediately insisted, "Brother Ye, this all started because of me. Even if I die, I can't let you go alone while I lie here sleeping!"
Ye Mo gave him a faint smile. "Then come with me."
To Ye Mo, these gangs of desperate thugs were nothing. Letting Fang Nan come along wouldn't make a difference.
Liushé.
Inside the semi-circular stone house that once belonged to Fang Nan, now sat members of the Vietnamese Gang. But they weren't alone—the infamous Filipino Gang, which roamed between the Philippines and the China border, was also present.
"I've had enough of that Fang Nan guy. Though we didn't kill him, kicking him out of Liushé is still satisfying. Big thanks to Boss Park. Come, on behalf of the Vietnamese Gang, let me toast you," said the Vietnamese Gang's leader, in fluent Mandarin.
"Pleasure to work with you," said the black Filipino Gang leader sitting across from him. Though his Chinese was clumsy, he knew well that speaking Chinese was necessary to survive in Liushé.
The Vietnamese leader—Wang Xian, who preferred being called President Wang instead of "Boss"—laughed heartily. "Don't worry, it's all good. As agreed, we'll split Fang Nan's territory and business fifty-fifty."
The air in the stone house was thick with laughter and wine, the mood lively.
Until—
Bang! Bang!
Two heavy thuds landed right on their banquet table.
Two bodies dropped, dead. They were the two Vietnamese guards who had been stationed outside.
For a moment, the entire room fell dead silent.
Then chaos erupted. Dozens of men reached for weapons—pistols, machetes, clubs—ready to fight.
"Who the hell are you?" President Wang shouted, already gripping his handgun. "You dare kill my men—prepare to die!"
Ye Mo stepped into the room, his face icy and expressionless. He swept a cold glance across the fifty or so people—more than a dozen blacks, two white men among them.
Then he spoke, voice chilling:
"That temple I lived in—was it you who destroyed it?"
Wang Xian was momentarily stunned. All this over a broken temple?
His face darkened, and he yanked out his gun. "Brothers! Get him! Kill this bastard!"