Chapter 00129: Beginnings and Endings
# Beginnings and Endings
Chapter 129
Novel: Above Destiny
Chapter 129 Beginnings and Endings
“Damn it all, the money is everyone’s to earn! Why should this little bastard get it all by himself?”
Xu Jun yanked Chen Yubai’s head around, roaring, “Old Lin, Chen Xingzhou is almost dead – why are you stubbornly holding on? Can you even hold on much longer? Once the money is taken, why not split it and go our separate ways?!”
Old Lin, tugging at the tablecloth and wiping blood from his hands with no hint of emotion, replied, “If it’s your money, then you must take it with a clear conscience. If it isn’t meant for you, you must not touch it. Even a little dab will only invite trouble and lead to a fiery, unburied end.”
“Damn you! I’ll send this little bastard off to meet his brother!”
Seeing that there was no hope of escape, Xu Jun’s face twisted in a snarl as he decisively pulled the trigger. “Eat shit, you son of a bitch!”
But instead of an ear-splitting bang and jets of red blood spouting out, all that came was a series of clattering, misfiring clicks from a jammed gun.
Click after click, he frantically squeezed the trigger.
Under Ji Jue’s cold, piercing gaze, his efforts were in vain.
In the end, his expression turned blank and dazed while he stared at Old Lin approaching him; only then did he finally come to his senses.
He dropped the gun and gave a scornful smile, ready to speak, when suddenly a hand clamped around his throat.
Then, thick smoke and sparks erupted violently from his mouth and nose!
In an instant, the struggling, terrified man was burned to ashes in his grasp.
Little streams of flame vanished down Old Lin’s mouth and nose.
His eyes turned pitch black, like dark caverns descending into molten depths, and a brief flash of crimson fire flitted by.
Soon enough, normality returned.
Old Lin then looked at Ji Jue and said, “The industrious earn more. If you’re not satisfied, there’s still someone on the mountain behind us snapping photos with a camera.” Ji Jue nodded, pointing in that direction, remarking, “The picture quality isn’t bad at all.”
Old Lin nodded and vanished in the blink of an eye.
Inside the room, silence reigned.
Everyone glanced at one another and then at Ji Jue.
Ji Jue fell silent, and none dared to speak.
Only Chen Yubai, who had barely escaped death, lay slumped in his chair, panting wildly as he clumsily wiped off the black ashes from his body.
A few minutes later, Old Lin returned carrying a large camera fitted with an enormous lens of some sort in one hand and, in the other, a phone whose casing had partially melted from the fire.
He placed them on the table right in front of everyone.
The sound of collision was crisp.
“Rest assured, those with skeletons in their closets will meet a miserable end. But those who stick together remain as brothers—sharing life and prosperity. When the boss returns, our own will never be shortchanged!”
From the beginning, Old Lin had not smiled until now; his smile was warm and inviting.
But as the old saying goes, a distant crumb cannot quench immediate thirst—not even fermented into kvass is enough.
After demonstrating the brutal consequences of being a traitor with a big stick, the next phase was the carrot and date stage.
Uncle Lin clapped his hands, and an assistant rolled in a small cart laden with one black box after another.
Every person who had chosen to stay received one, even Ji Jue got a set.
Holding it in his hand, its weight was undeniable.
The density of it made Ji Jue click his tongue.
Could they really all be gold bars? The scale of it was indeed extravagant.
With the genuine encouragement of actual gold and long-range “bread”, it suddenly seemed as if there was hope for better days.
Moreover, there was Old Lin’s promise that once the boss got out of the hospital, even if they weren’t doing business in Yacheng, they could rise again in Qiandao or elsewhere.
The morale, previously low, was now lifted.
After the meeting wound down, the first to jump up was that foolhardy, reckless “Gold Hair” brother.
Unlike the others, who were full of sly schemes, he stood out as a stupid, uneducated fellow with clear eyes who still prattled on about loyalty and righteousness in the most naïve way possible.
“Hey, that’s awesome, brothers!”
He was the first to approach with a warm smile and genuine curiosity. “How did you figure it out? Were you a hacker?”
“Just a bit of smoke and mirrors. The trick itself isn’t worth much once you see through it,” Ji Jue replied with a dismissive wave and a smile. “When it comes down to actually doing the dirty work, we all have to pitch in.”
“Hey, no problem. Who dares harm the boss’s little brother, and the first to answer me will pay!”
Gold Hair grinned widely, thumping his chest carelessly as he laughed heartily.
It was truly enviable.
After Old Lin sent off those business cronies, he sat down next to Ji Jue and asked, “How are you feeling, Mr. Ji?”
Ji Jue simply shook his head. “I still can’t get used to your methods. You’re snapping heads over nothing—people die without even a body left behind.”
It was frightening.
Old Lin sighed, “That’s how our organization is. Bai Lu isn’t like Tianyuan—when someone makes a mistake, you can’t simply expel them and be done with it. If you do wrong, you must face the consequences.”
“If you don’t do anything, you won’t go wrong.”
Ji Jue was unconcerned.
When things fall apart, everyone in Chen Xingzhou’s boat seemed doomed.
You can’t expect everyone to remain loyal unto death.
At a time like this, those who claim disloyalty certainly aren’t loyal, but those who express loyalty might not be sincere at all.
Everyone had clawed their way out of a gutter.
Who among them would shed tears over some ghostly affair? Out of every ten who said they trusted the boss, eight or nine were merely stalling, waiting for Chen Xingzhou to take his last breath so they could seamlessly jump ship to the next job.
It might even be that their next employer was already lined up.
More importantly…
“With so many people gone, will that be enough?” Ji Jue looked up toward the dining hall.
Except for him and Xiao An, among those chosen by fate the only ones left were Ah Yi and Gold Hair.
Ah Yi was clearly the timid type, completely useless in a crisis, while Gold Hair was exactly the opposite—naively reckless, not knowing his own limits.
If Lei Yaoxing were really to turn his back, could these few really protect Chen Yubai? Seriously? Even if Uncle Lin were made of iron, how many could he hold off? And what about Chen Xingzhou—you’re just leaving him out?
“Don’t worry. Yubai’s situation has nothing to do with Huangji. We just need to survive this spell. Besides, for bodyguards, quality matters more than quantity. I’ve already called in some outside help.”
Old Lin glanced at his watch, “It should be about time now.”
Just as he finished speaking, on the mountain road thick dust and smoke began to rise.
A mud-speckled SUV, clearly having taken a rough ride, wound its way toward the manor.
Ji Jue merely glanced over and shook his head: even when drunk, if you were under half a jin, you wouldn’t be driving like this.
At last, with a hair-raising skid against the iron gate, the vehicle screeched to a halt in front of the villa.
An empty alcohol bottle was tossed out of a window.
Then, a burly figure, rugged and unsteady, stepped out of the car.
Although tanned by the sun, you could tell his original complexion was fair.
His eyes were a deep green, bearing distinctive imperial traits, yet his eyebrows held a hint of a federal manner.
However, his jet-black curly hair, the accessories he wore, and the curved saber at his waist were unmistakably of Chinese origin.
He looked up and gave a broad, mischievous smile at those upstairs, revealing teeth decorated with totems in various Thousand Island styles.
Ji Jue stared in dumbfounded amazement at the absurd mix of styles.
It was so trendy, so over the top—in a way that made him a bit fearful.
“Long time no see.”
At the door, Old Lin took a deep breath and resignedly addressed, “Mr. Muhammad Wanyuantang Tombalovsky.”
“Ah, we’re all old pals here—just call me Old Tang,” said the staggering middle-aged man in a grizzled face as he clapped Old Lin on the shoulder. “Wasn’t it said you’d stay by the ward? What’s with you showing up here? This isn’t what the contract said!”
Old Lin smiled, “We need an expert like you here.”
“Forget it, I’m just the guy who guards the yard. Even if I don’t get hourly pay, it all adds up—meals, reimbursements… cough, cough—plus fuel subsidies, hardship allowances for working in high heat, and injury compensation. And don’t forget nighttime shift bonuses!”
“Rest assured, everything’s been arranged.”
Old Lin smiled as he ushered him inside, introducing him to Chen Yubai.
In that moment when Ji Jue met his eyes, both froze simultaneously, expressions stiffening.
Ji Jue was shocked because, in his perception, within just a few minutes the fluctuations of the other party’s spiritual energy had been as erratic as a stock market chart—soaring high, nearly reaching level six with half a foot stepping into the realm of rebirth, as if he were a formidable expert.
Yet at lower moments, his spirit was even weaker than Ji Jue’s, barely at a second-level newbie state.
The other man’s stiffness was due to the sight of Ji Jue… and beside him, Xiao An! It was as if that young man exuded something that made his hair stand on end instantly.
Holy hell, something’s seriously off here!
Old Tang rubbed his eyes, dumbfounded. “I came here to guard the compound, and the first thing I see at the door is some An family brat? What the hell? What kind of respectable household has a White Deer hunter’s kid lurking about?”
First confusion, then shock, then doubt, and eventually… that unmistakable sense of regret Ji Jue knew all too well—he almost pounded his chest in frustration, heartbroken.
—This is bad, the money might be less than expected!
Realizing instantly, Old Tang instinctively turned back, “Can we add more money?”
“Rest assured,” Old Lin still smiled, “when the boss returns, we’ll work something out.”
I don’t believe you for a second!
But the deed was done.
The contract was signed, the deposit account was their big one, and in a heartbeat it would be like falling into a pit.
Even Old Tang had nothing more to say.
After all, having renege on contracts so many times before, his credit was already hanging by a thread.
If this deal went sour, there would be no future—let alone next month, tomorrow, or even the day after.
With no choice, the hired hands resigned themselves to fate.
And add more money, too.
It was as though they wanted to turn bitterness into appetite.
After sitting down, he wouldn’t stop talking—like a famished ghost reincarnated, he ranted on, emptying out the equivalent of two refrigerators’ worth of alcohol.
If the cold storage didn’t have enough stock, everyone would be forced to order takeout for a while.
Yet he was rather generous by nature.
After a while, he managed to become familiar with everyone.
While holding his bottle and punctuating his words with taps, he recounted past exploits with such animated expression—tales of fierce battles in Zhongtu, deep infiltrations into the empire, daring jailbreaks in the federation… all recounted with seeming authenticity and detail.
The names might have been obviously fake, but at least the experiences sounded seasoned.
He had done all sorts of rough and dirty work.
In his own words, this type of security operation wasn’t much more than a holiday.
After all, in these times there were few ways to make a living—money was hard to earn, especially for a large band of mercenaries.
If you weren’t afraid to die, you could at least earn your funeral expenses, but sometimes, surviving long enough to actually get paid was an art in itself.
Take oil field protection, for example—a job so cushy that even the regular army would fight tooth and nail for it.
There was no room at the bottom for outside freeloaders.
Almost always, large groups of mercenaries ended up taking the hardest beats, the worst rations, and the meagerest pay.
Nowadays, even an eleven or twelve-year-old in Zhongtu could pick up a salvaged submachine gun and start taking orders.
In the ordinary kind of murder and arson, there weren’t really any professional barriers.
If you weren’t doing it, there were plenty of others ready.
No wonder back when Slan’s group adored that wealthy young lord from Lou’s family—finding a fixed, reliable, long-term client with plenty of money and little hassle was as rare as striking gold.
Even if Slan lost his head, he wouldn’t let Lord Lou lose his.
Otherwise, if the boss died, the rest of the knights would tear him apart.
But unlike Slan’s reputable Zhongtu regiment making extra money on the side, Old Tang was freelancing for single orders.
Such people often called themselves “Roving Knights.”
In simple terms, they were the streetwise rascals in a large group—recognized by the empire and the federation as transient criminals, the lowest on the hierarchy of their ranks.
When you’re out there hustling, some folks have their special tricks.
Their main asset was often simply having calloused hands, thick faces, and lightning-fast feet.
Old Tang claimed that his family had followed the great group for generations.
His ancestors were once affluent and even had their own knightly order, though by his time fortunes had fallen, and memories of the past were too painful to recount.
“My ancestors served the Eternal Empire. Back then, my great-great-grandfather held the post of Grand Marshal. That’s as high-ranking as it gets!”
When bragging about his ancestry, Old Tang painted a fantastical picture, prompting the naive Gold Hair brother to exclaim in awe, “Oh, wow!” in pure admiration.
Only Ji Jue couldn’t bring himself to correct him—after all, the Eternal Empire was a cabinet government that had never even had a Grand Marshal from beginning to end…
Once they’d exchanged pleasantries and grown familiar, Old Lin returned with his assistant pushing the small cart. “Here’s what you requested. Tell me, is it enough?”
The first things laid before Old Tang were several hefty leather suitcases.
When opened, inside were nothing short of an array of gleaming swords and knives, cold and sharp with their light glinting and their spiritual energy coursing.
Though they hadn’t been blessed to an exaggerated extent, their materials were solid, workmanship exceptional—a true alchemical masterpiece of high craftsmanship and completeness.
Besides Old Tang, everyone else received something as well.
For Gold Hair, a necklace was given with a red ruby the size of a pigeon’s egg set in, its spiritual energy wildly agitated and passionate—a piece meant for enhancing one’s abilities.
For Ah Yi, two crystal prisms were handed over.
When light shone on them, they scattered dazzling fragments everywhere.
For Xiao An, an entire box of alchemically treated daggers was set aside; these were clearly custom-made for throwing, their material far superior to the ordinary iron scraps one might buy off the shelf.
But when it came time for Ji Jue, he received nothing.
Old Lin simply led him down into the underground garage and opened a door that had been sealed for a long time, revealing the space beyond.
“From what I know, the Remnants usually require some auxiliary support. Tell me, are these enough?”
“Ah…,” Ji Jue was completely dumbfounded.
Behind the door, all manner of equipment had already been set up—from furnaces and liquefaction reactors to probes, engraving platforms, and every imaginable tool.
Each piece was maintained in near-new condition, finely tuned so that after adjustment they worked better than brand new.
Except for the absence of some over-the-top devices like workshop cores and spiritual furnaces, it was almost equivalent to a modest workshop.
If Professor Ye or Qiu Ge were here, they might have laughed scornfully and spat out how this trash dirtied their eyes.
But here, it was Ji Jue.
For a guy with nothing, this setup perfectly matched his level.
Besides, giving him higher-end tools would have been a waste; these were completely sufficient.
Not to mention that all the materials were stored according to standard configurations.
“After the work is done, none of these will be needed.” Old Lin lowered his voice and said in Ji Jue’s ear, “If it’s convenient for you, just dispose of them.”
“Ah…,” Ji Jue was still slow to react, his mind numb.
Then, Old Lin slid a business card into his pocket. “In addition, during this period, if you have any further needs, just call this number. As long as it’s something commonly available on the market, there should be no problem.”
“Ah… but then…”
Ji Jue half-reluctantly, half-forced, shoved it into his pocket.
“Any other instructions?” Old Lin asked with a smile. “I’ll do my best to handle everything for you.”
“Isn’t this too generous?”
Ji Jue looked back at him, “I’m no professional—I’m merely here as a mascot for the boss. If things get rough, I will run. So please, don’t pin your hopes on me too much.”
Old Lin shook his head firmly, “They are Chen’s employees, and you are Yubai’s friend. That is naturally different.”
Ji Jue sighed and pushed the door closed.
After a moment of silence behind that door, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “With such a thorough setup, shouldn’t it have been prioritized for Chen the boss?”
Old Lin answered without hesitation, “The boss has his own arrangements, and besides, he is now on the brink of life and death. According to his previous orders, ensuring Yubai’s safety comes first.”
Ji Jue shook his head, “What’s to gain?”
“Yubai is the boss’s only family—his own younger brother. There is nothing to gain there.”
“And you? What about you?”
Since it had already been mentioned, Ji Jue wasn’t shy about asking—especially after everything he had witnessed today, which all seemed too strange.
Things that appeared natural nevertheless hinted at an inexplicable divergence from reason.
Whether it was the meeting that seemed to be appeasing even as it disbanded the group, or the excessively lavish preparations, it made him begin to question Old Lin’s true intentions.
“Chen Xingzhou lies in the hospital, his life hanging by a thread. Chen Yubai is indecisive and lacking in ambition, with nothing but thoughts of how to feed a cat when money runs out. And what about you, Old Lin?” Ji Jue asked bluntly, “As a follower of Bai Lu, don’t you have any other ideas at a time like this?”
Old Lin finally stopped smiling.
Or rather, when his gentle mask fell away, his true self emerged—cold, calm, steady.
His dark eyes fixed on him for a long while until the corners of his mouth seemed to lift slightly.
“Rest assured, Mr. Ji, I’ve been watching Yubai grow up. I’ve never been married nor had children. He’s like my own nephew, and I would never let anyone harm him. As for you, I know you don’t want any dealings with Huangji, and I can guarantee that once this storm passes and Yubai is safe, you won’t face any trouble either. Even if my old bones can’t hold out, I will not leave anyone unrelated in the fire.”
It all sounded so convincing—maybe heartfelt, maybe insincere—but Ji Jue didn’t care.
Ever since he had gotten involved in Chen Yubai’s fate, he had already steeled himself for any consequence.
At worst, I’ll just walk away and hide in the workshop.
Even if Lei Yaoxing is as impressive and ruthless as he claims, come and bite me here in Beishan District!
Isn’t that the confidence given by those two golden thighs?
“And you?”
Finally, he asked once more, though this time it wasn’t the same question.
“Me…” Old Lin paused briefly and then chuckled wryly, “I’ve been toiling all my life. Now that I’m older, I have neither the ambition nor the ideals I once did. Over the years following so many bosses, not even eleven or twelve have ended well—and not one has had a good ending. Bai Lu’s way is like this: one night you rise to fame, and the next, you lie dead in the street. If there’s one thing I’d like, it’s just to have a beginning and an end.”
Ji Jue said no more and watched as Old Lin departed.
Long after, Ji Jue suddenly patted his head as realization struck him. “Damn, I think I’ve cracked it! Wasn’t Chen Xingzhou taken down by your hand?”
“How would I know? Anyone connected with you never ends well.”
That afternoon, beyond Yacheng in a remote wharf, Uncle Lin leaned against a car and smoked while waiting.
At last, a vehicle came to a stop not far off, and an emaciated old man emerged from it.
As soon as they met, the old man launched into a torrent of complaints.
With a head full of white hair and yawning as if he hadn’t slept in ages, his eyes were bloodshot and his unwashed hair still carried streaks of dried blood.
“Making you squash a bit of money is such a pain. At my age, working this long—even Chen Xingzhou still had some fight left—and I almost got shipped off by him.”
The old man staggered slightly, as if dizzy, taking two steps before needing to lean against a wall. “I did everything I could. If anything else happens, don’t blame me—I’m not the King of the Underworld, I don’t control the Book of Life and Death.”
“Doctor, thank you for your hard work. Here’s the agreed fee—double pay.”
Old Lin signaled one of his henchmen, who brought over the payment, and he pointed to the nondescript boat behind him. “It’s all arranged. Tonight, it will reach Chaocheng.”
“Although as a doctor I should say better things, I really have no medical ethics, so please forgive me.”
The old man counted the money from the box and casually remarked, “That vial of Panacea was a waste on him. For a high-level candidate, one injection could suspend his life—using it on an ordinary person is simply criminal waste. With his little recovery ability, even the best hospital techniques wouldn’t overcome the aftereffects. If he does survive, he’ll be a vegetable, and who knows when he might wake up. I really don’t know what you were aiming for.”
“Living is enough,” Old Lin smiled lightly. “As long as he’s alive, there’s a future.”
The old man was taken aback, struggling to understand, “No, are you really that confident in him?”
“It’s not that I’m confident—it’s that he’s confident in himself.”
Old Lin lit a cigarette and exhaled a wisp of bluish smoke. “He once told me, a person’s life is to be held in their own hands. No one else has the right to take it away. Now his chance to prove that has come…”
He paused for a moment, gazing at the vast city beyond the blue sea. “We’ll see if he can do it.”
(End of Chapter)