Evening was settling over the docks, gradually silencing the bustle of the day.
Shops began flipping their signs to "Closed," but certain establishments remained lit, their neon signs flickering against the encroaching night.
For workers who had spent the day laboring at the docks, there were two common options: head home in small groups or unwind with friends at a nearby bar.
It was in this environment that numerous budget-friendly bars sprang up around the docks. Among them was Morning Star, a bar controlled by the Shui Gui Gang.
The dockworkers knew the bar's affiliation but turned a blind eye as long as the drinks stayed cheap. In fact, there was an odd reassurance about gang-controlled bars: trouble rarely started within their walls.
Typically, two burly men in dark jackets stood watch outside the bar, their presence a clear warning.
But not tonight.
"Hey, where's the usual muscle?" a group of regulars muttered as they approached the door. Shrugging off their unease, they pushed the door open.
What they saw inside froze them in their tracks.
The dim, vibrant lighting of the bar danced over a chilling tableau. Dozens of people lay scattered across the floor, seemingly asleep. But their chests didn't rise or fall.
The flickering lights cast eerie shadows, heightening the oppressive atmosphere. An inexplicable dread settled over the onlookers, their instincts screaming at them to leave.
But just as they began to back away, they heard it: faint, incomprehensible whispers.
The whispers carried an unnatural cadence, stirring a primal anger in their hearts. Their heads pounded with the urge to scream and lash out at anyone nearby.
Within moments, the group succumbed to their violent impulses, turning on one another in a brutal frenzy.
Minutes later, the Morning Star bar returned to an eerie calm. The only sound was the haunting music that continued to play.
If one looked closely, they would see that three new bodies now joined the original group on the floor.
The bar's slightly ajar door seemed like the gaping maw of an abyss, swallowing anyone who crossed its threshold.
No one noticed anything amiss at the Morning Star bar until someone called the police.
The situation quickly escalated, drawing the attention of the NYPD.
Meanwhile, at Zhong Yi Hall, Seventh Uncle began to worry when Yuan Li and his men failed to return or answer their phones.
Sensing trouble, he sent another team to investigate.
When they arrived at Morning Star, the scene stunned them.
The bar and its surroundings were cordoned off by dozens of police officers. The perimeter stretched a full fifty meters, marked with bright yellow caution tape.
"What's going on?"
The five Chinese youths sent by Zhong Yi Hall gaped at the scene.
"The Shui Gui Gang's bar is surrounded by cops. Did Yuan Li and his men get into a fight with them? Maybe the commotion was so big it drew the police."
"That could be it. Yuan Li brought thirty men with him—no way the Shui Gui Gang could take them all. Maybe the cops swooped in and arrested everyone."
"You two, go ask around. The rest of us will call Seventh Uncle and have him reach out to the police. If Yuan Li and the others were arrested, we'll need to get lawyers to bail them out."
No one informed Eren about what happened at Morning Star until the next day.
When Zhong Yi Hall finally called him, the news was grim: Uncle Yuan and his team had gone missing.
Rushing to the hall, Eren immediately noticed something was off.
The usual bustling atmosphere was gone, replaced by an oppressive gloom. Those who remained seemed distracted, their expressions vacant.
As Eren entered, a wave of inexplicable sadness and anxiety washed over him, dragging his mood down.
"What's going on?"
Sensing the anomaly, Eren paused and activated Spirit Vision.
The change was immediate. His surroundings lit up with the emotional auras of those present.
The colors were dark and muted, blending into a nearly solid shadow that hung over the hall like a shroud of despair.
Eren found Seventh Uncle in his usual spot, but the old man looked visibly drained. His meticulously combed silver hair was slightly disheveled, and his face bore the weight of exhaustion.
As Eren approached, Seventh Uncle glanced up briefly before muttering, "Yuan Li and his men are in trouble."
"What happened?" Eren asked.
"Morning Star has a problem," Seventh Uncle replied gravely. "Since yesterday, anyone who's gone in hasn't come out—not even the cops. I've heard rumors of strange occurrences. The NYPD has sealed off the area, and the case has reportedly been handed over to the FBI."
Eren's pupils shrank.
Strange occurrences?
What does that even mean?
This was Marvel, not some supernatural horror universe.
Seventh Uncle, mistaking Eren's reaction for ignorance, sighed in disappointment.
The Shui Gui Gang situation had started with Eren, and Seventh Uncle had hoped he might know more. But clearly, his expectations had been misplaced.
After a moment of silence, Eren asked, "Is Uncle Yuan alive?"
"No one knows," Seventh Uncle admitted, shaking his head. "The cops say there are over a hundred people trapped inside the bar, but no one can confirm if they're alive or dead. If you want more details, you'll have to investigate yourself. The case is out of my hands now—it belongs to the FBI."
Eren nodded grimly. "I understand."
(End of Chapter)
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