Chapter Five: To Become the Golden Goose
1514 Words
Never before had Chen Ping been so certain that he would one day become incredibly powerful, able to control his own destiny and no longer be at the mercy of others.
However, distant water cannot quench immediate thirst.
Perhaps the future will bring great power.
His current physical condition does not allow him to perform any extreme maneuvers.
He doesn't need many people; just one or two tough fighters, a few thugs armed with knives and guns, surrounding him from a distance and engaging in guerrilla warfare, would likely put him in a difficult position.
His gaze lingered on his injured and broken right leg, and Chen Ping shook his head.
'A direct confrontation is the worst possible strategy.'
'He must outsmart me, not act rashly.'
Chen Ping narrowed his eyes, carefully considering a way to break the deadlock.
The wealth his past life had given him was not just a wealth of knowledge or martial arts skills, but more importantly, a way of handling certain situations.
A person's character is formed in those unforgettable memories. In his sophomore year of college, young and ambitious, he was full of vigor and enthusiasm. While passionately writing and discussing current events, he naturally harbored some romantic fantasies.
He had a female classmate he got along with very well, and they shared high hopes for the future.
At that time, his heart was just beginning to stir with love…
But before anything could happen…
During a summer vacation trip, his classmate disappeared.
Upon hearing the news, he was immediately consumed by rage, frantically searching everywhere and relentlessly pursuing her.
Finally, he found the gang that had kidnapped and sold his classmate, and the remote mountain village.
He found the old bachelor who couldn't find a wife.
But he could never find his classmate again; when they met again, she was gone forever.
On that day, he finally understood what the old man had said: martial arts, the art of killing…
He realized that what he had learned truly could make him a match for ten men, even a hundred.
He could eradicate evil from the world and bring peace to the land.
After washing the blood off his body and hands…
He didn't go back to his hometown, nor did he return to school. He could only buy some necessities that night, cross the dense jungle, and head south, never to return north for the rest of his life.
Did he regret it?
Chen Ping felt he never regretted it.
One must always have some principles.
Although he never regretted it, his past experiences still had a significant impact on Chen Ping. His way of doing things had also changed somewhat. To live, and to live well, sometimes one had to think thrice before acting.
A reckless habit is unacceptable.
There was still a way to break the deadlock, although it wasn't very reliable.
Chen Ping looked intently at the few beggars, who were working together to pile the bodies of Boss Yan, the tall, thin man, and the fool in the corner of the collapsed earth temple. They hastily covered them with broken bricks and tiles so they wouldn't be so conspicuous. He had some ideas in mind.
"What do you think we need to do to stop the Seven Colors Hall from pursuing the matter of killing Boss Yan?"
Chen Ping suddenly asked.
To break this deadlock, they needed to work together and reach a consensus.
"There's only death. If we're not afraid of death, why should we be afraid of them? If anyone comes looking for us, we'll fight to the death, even if it means killing them until they're terrified." Left-Handed Scissors gripped the short iron spikes he'd taken from the tall, thin man, his veins bulging.
Little Table shrank back, glancing timidly at Left-Handed Scissors, and quickly said, "While it's still dark, we can hide. The Seven Colors Hall is strong, but the Green Incense Hall isn't necessarily united, and they might not bother looking for us. If we hide for a while, we might be safe."
Little Stool, however, trembled, remaining silent. He was likely still reeling from the shock of killing the tall, thin man with a brick in the heat of the moment.
Painted Face hesitated for a long time before frowning and saying, "Perhaps, we could find a backer..."
He shook his head halfway through his sentence.
Finding a backer depended on whether the other party wanted it.
They were all crippled, weak, and useless; who could they possibly rely on?
Chen Ping's smile remained unchanged. His gaze fell on Left Broken Hand, and he said softly, "Fighting to the death isn't out of the question, but it's not time yet. As a backup plan, if we're truly at our wits' end, it's not impossible to fight."
His courage was commendable and shouldn't be discouraged.
He changed the subject: "As for hiding, that's up to fate. If we scatter and get caught, there's no chance of survival."
Chen Ping wasn't referring to himself, of course. He still had the strength to fight. He thought of the Little Table Brothers, especially Painted Face, who looked as weak as chicks... If they were caught, their fate would be sealed.
"As for finding a backer, the idea is correct... but you can't expect others to be your backer." He looked at the painted-face man and asked approvingly, "Painted-face man, tell me, what's the most important thing about finding a backer?"
"Useful," the painted-face man said uncertainly.
"Right, useful, able to be used, able to bring benefits."
Chen Ping smiled and said, "When we can't protect ourselves, we must first find a place where others can use us... Being able to be used isn't a bad thing; only by surviving can anything be possible."
"What do we have that others can use?"
The man with the severed left hand asked, puzzled.
"Think about it, what did Boss Yan want to do coming here at night? What was his purpose?"
"Break his arms and legs... no, he's after his share of the loot, to make more money..." The painted-face man exclaimed softly, a smile appearing on his face. "Seventh Brother, you've found a way to make money? That's it! As long as we demonstrate our abilities, Deputy Chief Chang and the others might not kill us to save trouble. After all, he can't possibly earn the money himself... someone has to do the work, and a dead Boss Yan is far less important to him than money."
"That's exactly right."
Chen Ping clapped his hands. "Everyone, get moving! Grab some money first, see if any shops are still open, buy some food... Eat and drink your fill, then get your spirits up. We'll stay up all night and learn something from me.
Whether we can earn a large sum of money tomorrow depends on how quickly you learn."
Having experienced the information explosion of his previous life, Chen Ping indeed had many ways to make money in his mind. However, 99% of the methods he could use were useless given his current status as a few beggars.
As beggars, they had neither capital nor skills. What use were they besides begging?
They couldn't very well resort to robbery and theft.
Leaving aside the question of whether that method was immoral or even profitable, the first consideration was the risk of being beaten to death.
Therefore, the only way was...
still begging.
But a different kind of begging.
definitely not shouting, "Grandpa, Grandma, Brother, Sister, have pity on me..."
In Chen Ping's view, exploiting others' sympathy, while not entirely useless, was truly ineffective.
Especially in ancient times when living standards were extremely difficult.
They couldn't even take care of themselves; where would they find so much sympathy?
Besides, those who were truly compassionate and kind-hearted generally didn't live well themselves. Most were at the very bottom of society; simply surviving was a struggle.
They didn't have any spare money to give.
Those who live well, are wealthy and powerful, and can afford to give large sums of money are often unkind and lack compassion.
Let alone saying kind words to a beggar with missing limbs, even if they staged a suicide attempt in front of them, they'd only show a hint of excessive pity.
So, what's the way to make money off these wealthy people who lack compassion?
His past life, in that era of entertainment to the death, had already given him the best answer.
It told him there was a profession that could easily make a lot of money.
That was the entertainment industry.
Giving people joy and psychological satisfaction is far more effective than appealing to their pity or compassion in making them willingly part with their money.
If he and his companions became the "golden goose,"
would the Vice-Chief of the Seven-Colored Hall and the Green-Character Incense Hall still kill this goose?
Would they still care about a worthless old man like Boss Yan after his death?
Based on his understanding of human nature, Chen Ping felt it was unlikely.
- Writer
