Let's get moving

The Blue Gang base was quiet.

Too quiet.

A year ago, this place had been bustling—phones ringing off the hook, plans on whiteboards, men training, cash and weapons being shuffled in and out like an underground machine built on precision.

Now?

Half of them were slumped on couches, others leaned against the dusty walls. Someone had tossed a crumpled energy drink can into the corner, and it hadn't moved in days.

"Damn," one of the younger members, Xiao Fei, muttered, flipping a worn coin between his fingers. "When boss was around, we were never this bored."

Ling Bu didn't look up from where he sat, legs crossed on the table, cigarette hanging lazily from his lips.

"Yeah," muttered another. "Used to be five jobs a week. Now we're like… part-time crooks."

The others laughed, but it was a hollow sound. Nobody said it out loud, but they all missed him—Fu Jing Rong.

The boss.