C18 Chapter 18

“Don’t get too worked up yet!” Professor Feng cautioned, trying to steady them. “Yes, we’ve found the Moon Wheel tablet, but things aren’t going as smoothly as you think.”

“What’s wrong?” Chen Xinxin looked confused. “If we found it, what—did it bury itself again?”

“It’s not going to do that,” Professor Feng said. “It’s just a stone. Even if it holds incredible power, it’s not going to sprout legs and run off. Let’s not kid ourselves.”

“If it’s not buried again, what’s the problem?” Chen Xinxin was still puzzled. She couldn’t figure out why Professor Feng was talking like this. The old man suddenly seemed way too unsure of himself—strange. He’d always been like that, though. When trouble was right in front of him, he hesitated. But once he got past that hesitation, he almost always made the right call.

A big reason the Ten Halls were able to gain the Sun Wheel’s power—able to awaken it at all—was because after they went down there, Professor Feng still had them look at the Sun Wheel tablet. Otherwise, how could the Ten Halls have awakened that power? The answer was obvious.

But at the same time, it was also Professor Feng who had led them onto this road—one that looked endless, and worse, one with no way back. Once you stepped onto it, it might be forever.

These past days had made one thing clear: even if you didn’t go looking for monsters, they would come looking for you. It was passive. There was no real way to resist it. Otherwise, the Ten Halls wouldn’t have agreed to Professor Feng’s request to help him in the first place.

They all wanted to get out of this whirlpool, but they couldn’t turn back. If they did, the only thing waiting for them was death. The only choice they had was to keep moving forward.

Hope was always ahead. Even if the road in front of them was pitch-black, even if it was unknown and dangerous, they had no choice but to press on. Hope and light were often hidden inside that darkness. That was what they’d been taught since they were kids—what their elders had drilled into them from the start.

Fate isn’t some uncontrollable force—it’s something you carve out step by step with your own two feet.

“You don’t know the half of it. We did find the Moonwheel tablet,” Professor Feng explained to everyone, “but it’s not under our control right now. I didn’t expect things to turn out like this. But since you’re here, I’m hoping you can help me—especially you, Shidian. I need you to use your power, a summoner’s power. We don’t have any other options.”

Professor Feng was already a little worried the three of them might quit halfway through.

“Then where is the Moonwheel tablet?” Chen Rui asked. “Since we’re here, we’ll help you, right, bro?”

“Yeah.” Shidian nodded firmly. “Just tell us where the Moonwheel tablet is right now, and we’ll figure out what to do. That way I can actually use my power the way it’s meant to be used.”

“Gangsters,” Professor Feng said calmly, as if he were stating a simple fact. “While you were flying in, the Moonwheel tablet fell into their hands.”

But Shidian’s mind wasn’t calm at all. If it was in a gang’s hands, everyone knew exactly what that meant.

In America, gangs really will kill. They don’t flinch at bloodshed, and they don’t care about personal grudges—so what would they be afraid of?

Once something ends up with them, the chance of getting it back peacefully drops to zero. That wasn’t even worth considering. And that was exactly what Shidian feared most. The only “peaceful” way to get something from a gang was to buy it—cash, clean and simple. They didn’t want to invite trouble. Sure, gangs might be willing to kill, but that didn’t mean the cops wouldn’t come down on them. If law enforcement got involved, even they would be in a bind—that was their weak spot.

That was why most gangs avoided anything that would put a spotlight on them. And if the heat did come, they’d find a fall guy—no question.

But in the end, money was the problem. They didn’t have it, so that option probably wasn’t going to work.

“Right—if the mob gets their hands on this thing, what are they after…?” That was also what Ten Halls wanted to know most.

If they could figure that out, it’d be a lot easier to plan the next move. Otherwise, they’d have a hard time dealing with whatever came next.

Truth is, by the time it got to that point, Ten Halls, Chen Rui, and Chen Xinxin all had a pretty good idea. If the mob got something like this, they were going to put it up for auction. They had a lot of people to feed, and what they needed was cash—not to get dragged into some ancient monster feud. Compared to an artifact like this, money was what mattered most to them.

“They took it to sell at an auction,” Professor Feng said, confirming what everyone was thinking. The mob was in it for the money, plain and simple. They’d always lived outside what society accepted, and it had been that way forever. They had no reason to fight for status or chase some grand cause. Their business was making money. In their eyes, reputation, morality, even human lives—none of it mattered as much as cash. With enough money, they’d do anything.

That was what made them terrifying. They weren’t afraid of much. They had one road, and they stayed on it: profit.

Whether it was the big-name syndicates people always talk about or the crews closer to home, it was the same story. People call them “dirty,” but what they really mean is how ruthless they are in business—how they’ll pay any price to make a buck. And that approach does work; it makes them rich. In the end, no matter where you are in the world, their goal is the same: money.

How many shootouts and turf wars between gangs weren’t about getting a bigger slice of the pie? If it weren’t about profit, they wouldn’t call themselves a crew—they’d call themselves hitmen.

There’s an old saying: money makes the world go ’round. These days people take it even further—if you’ve got money, there’s almost nothing you can’t make happen, no target you can’t reach.

In this world, money buys what you want—products, clothes, even people. What can’t money solve? For organized crime, as long as the price is right, they won’t even blink if the ones who die are their own. After all, you paid.

Like they say, you can always replace the boss—but a chance to make real money might come only once. That’s why you see plenty of betrayals and power grabs: everyone wants the cut to tilt in their favor.

And the people who end up dead at a gang’s hands—why do they die? Almost without exception, it’s because they got in the way of the gang’s money. Block someone’s hustle, and they’ll kill you. Otherwise, wouldn’t the cash just get siphoned off somewhere else?

Why? Because that’s the one rule every gang lives by.

“So what do we do now...?” Chen Rui and Chen Xinxin were both at a loss. They hadn’t expected things to go this way—the Moonwheel Stone Tablet had fallen into the gang’s hands, and they didn’t have any money.

“Don’t tell me...!” Chen Xinxin was about to blurt it out.

“Steal it,” Shi Dian said, unwavering.

“No.” Professor Feng shut him down immediately. “Not with you. You’re not strong enough. Those guys don’t blink when they kill, and most of them are packing. You could get dropped just walking down the street, and you want to go steal from them?”

“Yeah, and with what?” Chen Rui piled on. “You’re not that capable yet, and we don’t have superpowers. What are we supposed to do—headbutt our way in? You couldn’t even take one of them. This has to be a joke.” After he finished, he shot Shi Dian a look full of contempt.

Chen Rui wasn’t wrong. If the gang dared to put the Moonwheel Stone Tablet up for public auction, it meant they understood what it was. Otherwise, they wouldn’t bother. A quiet backroom deal wouldn’t bring in nearly as much—an auction is how you get people bidding against each other and drive the price into serious profit.

The usual play is to work with the auction house and plant their own people in the crowd to run the price up and stir the room. Once it hits a number they like, they stop, let it sell, and walk away clean. The auction house gets its commission, the gang makes a killing, and the auction house is happy to go along—more money for everyone, so why not?

For a mob outfit, anything that goes to auction has to be something the auction house can hype—something that lets both sides walk away raking it in. Otherwise, the buzz might be there, but the money won’t be, and what auction house would dare work with them again?

And if they know exactly what this item can do and still have the nerve to sell it—out in the open—that tells you they’re not worried about anyone trying to snatch it. Their reach is big enough to back it up. If it weren’t, the item wouldn’t have ended up in their hands so easily in the first place. They wouldn’t have the guts. Because if someone stole the goods in public, the mob would lose face completely. They’ve done every dirty thing under the sun, sure—but even they still care about reputation.

Chen Rui suddenly broke it down for everyone, dead serious: “If the mob’s willing to put it up for public auction, that means they’re not afraid of anyone coming for it—no one trying to take it, no one trying to start a shootout. That’s the scariest thing about them. They’re not afraid of anything.”