As he approached the sound of chanting, Mowen noticed several luxury cars parked in the corner of the backyard, surrounded by a group of people.
Suddenly, the main gate of the temple's main hall was gently pushed open by two monks, and a portly man, appearing to be in his fifties, emerged.
He carried himself with an air of authority, as if the temple were his own residence. His face was haughty, with half-closed eyes, slightly drooping corners of his mouth, and the added bulk of facial fat giving him a menacing and arrogant appearance.
His rotund belly strained against an expensive white shirt, which nonetheless looked like it came from a cheap street vendor. He nodded freely to the abbot as he walked toward his car. Ten bodyguards quickly surrounded him and began their routine.
With a slight shrug of his shoulders, a bodyguard immediately took the coat draped over him. As he reached the car, the door popped open perfectly in time. One bodyguard carefully held the door to prevent any bumps, while another placed a cigarette in his slightly raised right hand.
The old man put the cigarette in his mouth, and a lighter promptly ignited it. After a deep inhalation, curling smoke wafted into the air.
It was like a silent, precise performance, with each action seamlessly coordinated, as if rehearsed countless times.
The monks in the temple, dressed in their yellow robes, watched with smiling faces, hands clasped in respect. As they escorted this VIP out, their mouths murmuring words of admiration.
Mowen didn't know that this aged man was called Mr Alex Richman, a major businessman,the head of the underground gang in District 19, and also a senior manager in the same district.
With an imperious wave of his hand, he commanded,"Little Wen, go give some incense money to the temple monks!"
To Mowen's surprise, the person waiting outside was his former boss, Wen Bo, who now bowed and nodded obsequiously. From the moment Wen Bo saw Mr Richman, he hadn't straightened his back, looking half his usual height.
After speaking, Mr Richman walked insdie his car, straight to the wine cabinet and took out a bottle of red wine. He poured a glass, swirling the liquid around. Closing his eyes, he savored the rich aroma before downing it in one gulp.
As Mowen approached, the scene before him transformed as if a beautifully made-up woman was removing her makeup, revealing a pockmarked, sallow face. The luxurious car transformed into an open, roofless palanquin, still lavishly adorned.
The bottom, decorated with obsidian and agate, was covered with exquisitely embroidered silk blankets. The poles, wrapped in red lacquer and gold cloud patterns, had become dark and mottled with age. An embroidered golden silk canopy on top resembled a mystical talisman, shielding the dignitary from the outside world.
Mr Richman's true form became apparent. His enormous belly looked like a giant balloon, making his limbs appear frail and thin. His sapphire blue brocade robe fluttered lightly in the breeze, like a luxurious cloud.
His bald, wide, flat face, sunken nose, and wide, flaring nostrils gave him the appearance of always exhaling heavily. His bulging eyes, like two round balls, looked particularly out of place on his broad face. His mouth, large and wide, had thick lips that curled downward arrogantly at the sides.
Mowen almost laughed out loud,"This guy really looks like a big toad."
The six bearers who had been standing in front and behind the car were so frightened by the sight that their legs gave way, causing the palanquin to tilt and Mr Richman to slide off, falling to the ground.
Following the palanquin were many dazed slaves, each connected by transparent tubes through which their blood flowed into the red wine goblet on the palanquin bed. The red liquid Mr Richman had been drinking turned out to be human blood, revealing a horrifying secret as his increasingly bloated belly and the blood at the corners of his mouth confirmed.
Mowen was astonished to find that among the people surrounding the toad was his boss, Wen Bo, whom he faced every day before. The successful businessman's face was covered in black spots, with large craters seemingly left by the explosion of those spots, making his entire face look like a ground hit by cluster bombs, which appeared extremely bizarre.
Wen Bo's narrow eyes gleamed with greed, as if ready to devour everything around him. His mouth barely curled into a sneer, as if disdainful of the world, yet turned into a servile expression when facing Mr Richman. He frequently bowed and scraped, following the palanquin, feigning to inspect it and trying to show his loyalty.
However, when dealing with the bearers and slaves, he was ruthless and disrespectful, acting as if he were superior. His entire demeanor exuded a sinister and terrifying aura, like a cunning hunting dog waiting to pounce on its prey.
His arms were covered in rock-hard red scales, his nails sharp like claws, and he held a whip. When he saw his boss's pitiful state, a moment of panic gave way to anger, as if he had fallen himself.
Grabbing the whip, he angrily lashed out at the bearers. They showed pain and pleaded pitifully, quickly righting the palanquin.
Mowen was astonished to see this familiar yet strange person, now unsure if he could still be considered human. He instinctively stopped in his tracks, forgetting to call out for help.
"Luckily, I didn't work for him too long. Under such a treacherous hunting dog, who knows when you'd be eaten without knowing it."
Mr Richman's expression grew ferocious, his anger making his belly swell as if it would explode at any moment.
Flanking him were four bodyguards, with hooked noses and cold, harsh eyes, clad in fine black scale armor that shimmered menacingly in the sunlight.
These guards, wielding short sticks, began to beat the bearers. Soon, several pitiful souls lay convulsing on the yellow dirt. Mr Richman roared in fury,"You brainless idiots! Who will carry the palanquin if you kill them?"
He slapped the bodyguards' faces, causing the sturdy men to retreat repeatedly, their noses twitching as they knelt, kowtowing in submission. These bodyguards, used to groveling, once again had their pride trampled into the ground.
Mowen couldn't have imagined that these men, who appeared high and mighty among their kind, now bowed and scraped, cursing their boss internally while outwardly showing fear.
Some, poor actors, revealed their inner fear briefly before lowering their heads even more, trying to hide their feelings.
Wen Bo, astonished for a second in the half-true atmosphere, suddenly caught the scent of fresh blood. His eyes, sharp as knives, turned towards Mowen, showing a flash of greed before turning dumbfounded.
"How is this stupid and clumsy fool here? Worse, how did he see my true form?" Wen Bo cursed internally.
"You, whatever your name is, come here!" Wen Bo called out in his usual imperious tone.
Mowen recalled the first time he saw Wen Bo summon a colleague, who had run over like a dog. He laughed at how someone could be treated like a dog and how someone could summon people as if calling a dog.
Mowen couldn't help but laugh,"Who are you? I don't recognize you! Do you need a mirror?"
Wen Bo, hearing someone retort for the first time, was taken aback. He quickly pulled out his phone, seeing his reflection, he was shocked.
Seeing Mowen again, his gaze turned from surprise to contempt and loathing.
"You poor wretch, a useless fool! Come here!" he snarled.
His inner turmoil was like a whip, immediately berating the bodyguards who played along:
"Is our noble form something these lowly humans can see? Go grab him!"
"He has no background,you know what to do!
"This ant should have been dead long ago!" Wen Bo cursed internally again.