Chapter Thirty-Two: The Banquet at Hongmen

The shrill ring of my phone shattered the silence—it was already noon. The torrential rain had faded, and the sun was creeping quietly over the horizon. That grating ringtone interrupted my plan to lounge in bed a little longer.

“Hello? Old Zhao. What’s got you calling me today?” I stretched and yawned, still half-asleep.

“Boss Zhang, there’s something I need to tell you face-to-face,” Old Zhao replied, lowering his usually sharp voice to a grave murmur. “It’s… it’s about Xiaowei.”

My heart skipped a beat. Had something happened to Xiaowei? And what about that mysterious Mr. Wang? I couldn’t help but be on my guard.

“Where are you? I’ll come find you.”

“No need. I’ll be at your shop soon,” he said.

Before long, I heard hurried footsteps on the stairs. I rushed to the door and nearly collided with Old Zhao.

“Let’s talk inside.” Old Zhao’s brows were deeply furrowed, his face serious. Lao Liao and I ushered him into the shop and poured him a glass of water, which he drained in one gulp.

“There are two things. First, Mr. Wang is inviting you both to dinner tomorrow night.” I glanced at Lao Liao. Coincidentally, I’d been thinking of visiting Mr. Wang and Xiaowei to see what business they’d gotten into. This dinner was the perfect opportunity to investigate, so I nodded to Old Zhao.

“The second thing—do you know what this is?” he asked, pulling a black amulet from his pocket.

“A Thai dark charm!” Lao Liao and I exclaimed in unison. “Where did you get it?”

“Xiaowei’s been selling these lately. One of my drivers bought one for fifty thousand. But there’s something sinister about it, so I brought it to ask you two,” Old Zhao replied, wiping sweat from his brow.

“Sinister is putting it mildly. These things are deadly. But isn’t Xiaowei working under Wang in the medical field? How did he get involved with such dark arts?”

“That I don’t know. But let me warn you—if these charms have anything to do with Wang, tell Xiaowei to get out as soon as possible. Wang isn’t exactly clean-handed.” Old Zhao spoke in a low, earnest tone.

I nodded, thinking of that black amulet exuding a dark aura. If Wang really was behind this business with Thai black magic, then what had happened to Su Jin and Tian Tian before…

Old Zhao sighed, patted my shoulder, and left the tattoo shop.

Just a few days ago, Lao Liao had already sensed something wrong during dinner with Xiaowei. Now his suspicions were confirmed. The business of dark arts was always a violation of natural law, and to use it for truly wicked deeds was the greatest disgrace to the trade.

Somewhere along the way, I’d developed a sense of justice unique to our world. Those Thai sorceries, wrought from newborn infants, were cruel and devoid of all conscience. I couldn’t allow those Kumantong dolls or amulets to appear in the markets of southern Guangdong.

The dinner was held as scheduled—a gathering where the hearts of men were impossible to read. The banquet was set in a five-star hotel, the most luxurious restaurant I’d ever entered in my twenties. Pushing open the door, I saw Mr. Wang beaming as he gripped my hand. “Boss Zhang! It’s been too long! I’ve missed you, hahahaha!”

His effusive greeting sent a chill down my spine. I surveyed the table—almost all ten seats were filled. Mr. Wang, ever the gracious host, introduced me around. I recognized Mr. Li from real estate, Old Zhao needed no introduction, and seated nearby were Director Xu from the Central Hospital and Captain Liu from the Criminal Investigation Department.

These were all prominent figures. I was just a small-time tattoo shop owner—this was a world I’d never encountered, and I felt ill at ease. Then Wang drew me to a dark-skinned foreigner. “This is Master Sazan; you’ve met before. And this is Zhang, the heir of Yin-Yang Embroidery—two masters who should get to know each other well.” He pressed our hands together in a firm handshake.

I forced a smile and looked at the foreigner. His skin was yellow-black, clearly Southeast Asian, his eyes hollow, one of them unmistakably artificial, and a golden amulet hung from his neck. Only then did I realize: this was the Thai sorcerer.

Sazan studied my astonished expression. “You must have recognized me, Boss Zhang. I greatly admire your skills in Yin-Yang Embroidery—after all, we exchanged techniques two months ago. I look forward to learning from you in the future.”

I didn’t understand what he meant, but Lao Liao signaled for me to play along, so I had no choice but to flatter him a bit.

I noticed Xiaowei diligently pouring drinks for these bosses, and my heart twisted with discomfort. One can be poor, can live a hard life, but a person should never lose their moral compass. Wang was clearly involved in the trade of Thai dark arts. Xiaowei couldn’t stay under his thumb; I had to find a way to get him out.

As the drinks flowed, the conversation was all business platitudes—empty flattery and sycophancy. Lao Liao and I felt out of place, so we kept our heads down and ate, but no matter how exquisite the dishes, they tasted like ash in my mouth.

I excused myself to get some air, and Wang followed me out, slinging an arm around my neck. “Xiao Zhang, we could work together—you and Xiaowei will have everything you could want, never worrying about money again. Your Yin-Yang Embroidery is wasted in that tiny shop.”

His words filled me with anger, but wary of Wang, I could only say I’d think about it.

Did Wang have something on Xiaowei? Where had he learned Yin-Yang Embroidery, and did he have any connection to my grandfather? Every mystery seemed to point to this arrogant man before me.

This dinner, more than a gathering of businessmen, was Wang’s way of showing his power to Lao Liao and me. He paraded his connections, both legal and shady, then brazenly introduced the sorcerer—his intentions anything but pure.

As the banquet drew to a close, Wang pulled me aside at the hotel entrance and whispered in my ear, “The wise adapt to the times. A clever bird chooses a good tree to nest in.” Then, laughing heartily, he saw the guests off.

I quietly asked Old Zhao to keep an eye on Xiaowei. He gave me a look of concern and hurried away. Lao Liao and I didn’t call a car; we walked together down the empty street, lost in silence.

“Wang is trying to recruit you,” Lao Liao finally said.

“Yes, but it’s all dirty work.”

“It’s more than that. Our earlier actions ruined his Kumantong and sorcery business. That’s why he invited Xiaowei and set up this dinner—do you know why?”

He slumped onto the curb and lit a cigarette, handing one to me as well.

“He wants to win me over—show off his network and his talents,” I said, lighting the cigarette and coughing at the first drag.

“You’re wrong. This isn’t just recruitment; it’s a threat. Xiaowei is in his hands. Otherwise, why would a small fry like Xiaowei be at a table like that? And the Thai sorcerer is another threat—if you refuse, Wang can strike at any time.”

Lao Liao’s insight was deeper than mine. I felt a growing unease—not fear of the sorcerer, but worry for how Xiaowei could escape.

Night had fallen. Black mist crept across the sky, shrouding the moon. I shivered, but my resolve was firm. “The most urgent thing now is to get Xiaowei out.”