The dagger in Chan Ho Nam's hand gleamed under the faint alley light. He was about to hunt down Brother Ox for Little Bee's family, but just as he was about to leave, Bao Bi ran up, his face ashen, holding an old cellphone.
"Brother Nam, don't go!" Bao Bi panted. "It wasn't Brother Ox!"
"What the hell are you talking about?" Ho Nam spun around, his eyes bloodshot. "If not that son of a bitch, then who?"
"It was… it was Sa Bi," Bao Bi said, his voice trembling. "One of the boys just overheard his call with the Sankō-gumi. He was the one who snitched on Little Bee's family. This is the recording."
Bao Bi pressed play. A voice, painfully familiar, crackled from the cheap speaker. It was Sa Bi, begging, bargaining with a Japanese man. Selling out Little Bee's family for the promise of a future.
CRACK! The phone shattered in Chan Ho Nam's grip. Blood trickled from where the broken plastic cut into his palm, but he felt nothing. The pain in his heart was a thousand times worse. Betrayal from a man he considered a blood brother was crueler than any enemy's blade.
"Why?" Ho Nam whispered to no one.
He didn't know that in the days he'd been fighting his war, Sa Bi had been living the life of a stray dog. A fugitive, broke, starving to the point of snatching food off street stalls. He felt abandoned, forgotten by his leader. And when the Sankō-gumi extended an olive branch, a promise of money and power, he'd grabbed it without hesitation, even if the price was his loyalty and brotherhood.
Days later, at a five-star hotel, the top bosses of Hong Kong's underworld gathered for a lavish Hung Mun banquet, a place to settle disputes and redraw lines of power. For the first time, a living legend made a public appearance: Chiang Tin-Sang, the 47-year-old Dragon Head of the Hung Hing triad, a man respected throughout the jianghu for possessing both great wisdom and courage.
Aoyama Minami was also there, his Four Heavenly Kings in tow. He walked past Chiang Tin-Sang's table, the one man he had failed to recruit. The eyes of the two alpha tigers met for a split second, a silent clash that electrified the room. Aoyama's gaze then flicked to Chan Ho Nam, seated in a corner, a look loaded with provocation.
The banquet came to life when Aoyama took the stage. "My dear brothers," he announced, his voice echoing. "To celebrate the fine cooperation between our societies, the Sankō-gumi would like to propose a grand 'fireworks festival.'"
Murmurs filled the hall. Everyone knew what "fireworks" meant. It was a euphemism for war, a culling to redefine territories.
Chiang Tin-Sang set down his wine glass. "Mr. Aoyama," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Fireworks in Hong Kong can easily start a fire. We would not want this entire city to burn for the sake of your entertainment."
The polite but powerful refusal cast a pall over the room. Aoyama stared at Chiang Tin-Sang, a flicker of rage in his eyes. He knew this "Old Chiang" would be a major obstacle. He needed a pawn, a disposable knife to stir the waters. His eyes found Sa Bi, standing like a shadow in the corner of the room.
"The Wo Kee boss," Aoyama whispered in Sa Bi's ear later. "You know what to do."
Sa Bi received his orders. He had no way back. That night, he crept into Wo Kee territory to assassinate Tachibana Masato. But he was a street brawler, not an assassin. The attempt was a clumsy, spectacular failure. He barely escaped with his life, his identity now completely exposed.
Desperate, he ran to Bao Bi, the brother who had fought beside him for years.
"Bao Bi, help me!" he pleaded.
"You're insane, Sa Bi!" Bao Bi screamed, grabbing him by the collar. "What the hell did you do? You betrayed Brother Nam! Turn back now, before it's too late!"
"Turn back?" Sa Bi laughed, a crazed, high-pitched sound. "There's no turning back for me! If you won't help me, then you can die with me!"
He pulled a knife and lunged at his friend. The fight between the once-legendary "Two Bi's" was a pathetic, ugly affair in a filthy alley. Bao Bi, in disbelief, was gravely wounded. Sa Bi left his brother bleeding on the ground and fled. He was disloyal, unrighteous, inhuman. He was no longer a man.
Finally, the day of reckoning came. On a construction site in the pouring rain, Chan Ho Nam faced Sa Bi.
"Why?" Ho Nam's voice was hoarse from the rain and the pain. "I treated you like my own flesh and blood."
"Brothers?" Sa Bi shrieked, his face a twisted mask of madness. "You abandoned me! You let me to starve in the street! The Sankō-gumi gave me a way to live! What did you ever give me?"
"I gave you my brotherhood!" Ho Nam roared back. "The thing you threw away like trash!"
He charged. This wasn't a fight of skill, but of pure, agonizing pain. They punched, kicked, and clawed at each other like wounded animals.
In the struggle, Sa Bi's foot slipped on a wet steel beam. He lost his balance, tumbling backward over the edge and falling three stories from the unfinished building.
THUD.
Chan Ho Nam looked down at the twisted body on the ground below. He felt no victory. Only a vast, terrifying emptiness. Karma is real, and Sa Bi had paid for his betrayal with a miserable, pathetic death. Ho Nam had lost another brother, and this time, the pain was a thousand times worse. He tilted his face to the sky, letting the rain wash over him, but he knew it could never wash away the hatred in his heart.