Chapter Fifty-Eight: Probing the Red Gang
Section One: Where the Goods Come From Is the Lifeline
Three-fifteen AM, a faint wheel-dragging hum rose from the east alley by the cold storage.
Iron Valley's outer zones, winter night's tiles frozen hard, each wheel grinding the ground with a faint bone-scrape rasp.
No one looked up.
Except them.
—
"Rossi, left-front, three-man team, sealed tags, likely ground handover point."
Welles whispered, crouched behind a scrap rack, his palm glowing with ARGUS's faint interface, marking a red three-dot pattern.
They'd been in ambush two hours. Their target wasn't Red Gang enforcers or hall cadres, but a mid-level "cold chain delivery company" operative.
"This guy's Booker," Tarn hissed beside him.
"No logistics firm under his name, yet four days straight, his deliveries sync with Red Gang's cold storage."
"We don't know how much he knows, but he's the link."
—
Far off, Booker, in an insulated cap, cigarette dangling, stood by an old refrigerated truck, murmuring with two porters. His hand didn't pocket, pressing a paper list—manifest and authority.
ARGUS's listening scan caught his first words:
"This batch goes straight to West Warehouse, no tags—they'll label it themselves."
—
"They'll label it?" Welles echoed.
Tarn nodded: "Means he handles transport, not accounts."
"A tool."
"But critical."
—
They didn't approach, circling to the other side where Mia had planted a listening chip.
A minute later, crates loaded, Booker checked, patted the truck, and said flatly: "Three hours or you're out for the next batch."
The truck rolled.
Booker didn't leave.
He glanced at a dark corner.
A busted alley lamp.
He stared three seconds.
—
"An insider's watching him," Welles whispered. "He's the handoff, not the safety."
"We need to know who he fears."
—
The three retreated slowly, looping to the cold storage's south via a pre-planned evasion path.
ARGUS displayed three markers:
[Booker · No Violence Record · External Delivery Unit × Has Transfer Records]
[Contact Team · Non-Red Gang Uniform × Foreign Accents × Unnamed]
[Delivery Path · To West Warehouse · Tagged "Self-Labeled" × Hall Private Goods]
—
"Self-labeled?"
Tarn eyed the route map: "Not 'gang business'—'hall master private procurement.'"
"This truck's his own."
—
Welles closed his eyes: "We've got the first thread."
"Not the gang's supply line."
"The hall master's supply line."
—
He entered a command on ARGUS:
[Build Supply Chain Map × Tag: Red Gang External Supply – Hall Master Private End]
[Behavior: No Disruption, No Contact, Continuous Tracking]
[Goal: Identify Hall Master → Resource Source → Backing Ties]
—
Fuxi Prompt:
"Not the one with the gun is the enemy."
"But who eats whose rice stands on whose stage."
"That's the direction you'll strike."
Section Two: Who Silences Mouths Is the True Head
"Quick question."
"Your cargo—is it from up top or that hall?"
"Wrong answer, wrong drop."
—
Gray Valley alley mouth, six or seven temp porters unloaded cement and dry rations into a warehouse behind the hall. Maria's first approach to the Red Gang's "hall peripheral dispatch point."
She wore gray workwear, a plastic "warehouse coordination contract" badge pinned, looking like an outsourced tally clerk.
No one doubted her.
She held a real form.
The form, an ARGUS mock-up from a week ago, built via "process tracking simulator," passed frontend checks.
—
"Form," a man in sunglasses demanded.
Mid-thirties, tattooed arms, tone neither cold nor warm, but carrying weight you obeyed.
"I'm Wei Ran," he said, not looking up. "I handle this cargo's coordination."
"You're not under me, but you log under my name."
Maria nodded: "Understood."
—
A porter sneezed nearby; Wei Ran glared: "What's that?"
The man shrank: "Cold."
"No colds on-site next time."
"Taint the boss's goods, who's liable?"
"The hall master? You?"
His voice low, the scene stilled.
"Go back, tomorrow's pay docked twenty percent."
—
Maria's eyes caught an ARGUS prompt:
[Wei Ran × Dispatch Agent × Authority Level: III × High Intimidation Speech Rate → "Execution Proxy"]
[Assessment: Non-Powerholder, Hall Master's Will Externalized Tool × Highly Malleable]
—
Tallying, she scanned the scene.
Delivery workers wore no uniform, but all checked routes with Wei Ran first.
Not the hall master, not the bookkeeper—him.
"Not a warehouse clerk."
"A command relay."
—
"Done for today," Wei Ran waved. "No list, no show."
"No name tomorrow, no goods."
Someone muttered: "You're not the hall master."
He turned, staring five seconds.
No one spoke again.
—
Maria walked, lightly tapping her right ear, ARGUS syncing:
[Node Map Identified: Red Gang × East Warehouse × Dispatch System]
[Structure Line: Wei Ran (Dispatch Proxy) ← Hall Master (Unseen) ← Finance Relay × No Armed Presence]
[Assessment: Internal Command System × "Small Autonomous Hall" × Penetrable]
—
Back at the covert post, Maria reported to Jason:
"He's not the head, but he silences mouths."
"Some heads don't appear, but you know they're there."
"Some stand forward, and you know—the one behind calls the shots."
—
Jason nodded: "We've found who gives orders, not who bears blame."
"Keep digging. The dispatch layer's the vein of command flow."
"Find the heart."
—
Fuxi Prompt:
"True control isn't standing frontline, but making every node obey without your presence."
"The one who silences is the hand."
"You seek the heart that makes the 'hand fear error.'"
Section Three: Whose Name You Carry Decides Your Step
At a cigarette stall, two men crouched by an iron rail, sharing a half-smoked stub.
"That new hall master, really local?"
"Heard he's transferred, ran cargo by Mirror Sea."
"Yo, a 'proxy faction' then?"
—
Lisa Peng sat nearby, feigning earphone repair, her listening module recording.
Three days in Gray Gutter West Street, tracking crowd sentiment toward the Red Gang hall.
Locals spoke little, but gossip cut sharp.
—
"Tell you, the old hall master, black as he was, at least played fair."
"Now these guys, all proxies, never show."
"If my son weren't working for them, I'd stop selling their goods."
—
ARGUS flashed keyword analysis:
[Crowd Speech Extracted: "Proxy Faction" × "Never Show" × "Old Master Played Fair"]
[Prompt: Red Gang Hall Operates "Dual-Line Master Mechanism"]
→ [Local Rooted × Dispatched Proxy]
→ [Operational Conflict: Chaotic Management × Divergent Orders × Factional Profit-Seeking]
—
Lisa opened the heat map, noting trust indices near halls plummeting, blue zones graying, memes quieting, crowds hushing.
She zoomed on "West Warehouse Mouth," where two porters bickered mid-haul.
One snapped:
"Don't feed me that—this is Old Peng's line, nothing to do with Master Jin."
"I don't take two bosses' words."
—
"Old Peng" and "Master Jin"—two names in one command chain.
—
Lisa logged:
[West Warehouse Hall × Observation Report]
Core Figures: Old Peng (Local Veteran)
Operational Figure: Master Jin (Proxy Dispatched)
Lower Chaos: Subordinates Unsure Who Commands, Splitting Allegiance
Conclusion: Dual Structure Forming Latent Rift
—
She uploaded to ARGUS, the interface generating a hierarchy map:
Master Jin: Current Command × Backed by External System × Tight Operations
Old Peng: Unseen × Frequently Cited × Former "Old Rules" Holder
Dispatch Layer: Clear Split, Phrases Like "We're With That Side" → Loyalty Fracture
—
At the outpost, Jason read the report, saying softly:
"Not a unified hall."
"It's—a slab of meat, carved up."
"We don't need to break it—just find who starves first."
—
Fuxi Prompt:
"The command chain fears not a break."
"It fears someone heeding two masters at once."
"That's no hall—it's mutual devouring."
Section Four: Not a Solid Plate
Outpost second floor, night lamps dimmed, holographic screens aligned.
Welles, Maria, and Lisa Peng sat in a row, their tracking maps floating on the table, each line tracing a person, a door, a shipment into sprawling webs.
Jason stood at the front, fingers gliding over the 3D structure, murmuring:
"Master Jin, proxy-backed; Old Peng, local veteran."
"They each hold thirty percent, sharing one warehouse, one logistics, one 'Red Gang' name."
"Is this—mutual oversight, or mutual erosion?"
—
ARGUS's central map surfaced:
[Red Gang · West District Hall Structure Chain]
Level | Figure | Status | Traits
Hall Master Upper | Master Jin | Active but Isolated | External System Backing, Strong Resource Control
Hall Master Old | Old Peng | Covertly Active | Controls Grassroots Sentiment, Unseen but Often Cited
Dispatch Proxy | Wei Ran | High Execution | Loyal to Neither, Follows Orders
Patrol Lower | Five-Man Team | Chaotic Split | Mixed Personal Loyalties, Some Grumble "Two Masters"
Peripheral Informants | Water Worker Old Qu, etc. | Near Neutral | Some Interested in "New Order," Observing
—
Maria added:
"We tested keyword induction."
"'Master Jin' + 'unification' spikes negative emotion; 'Old Peng' + 'order' eases some."
"Means at the base, they still—lean toward the 'unseen' one."
—
Welles flagged a note: "Jin's cold chain, thirty percent smuggled goods bypass local supply, warehouse staffed by outsiders."
"Peng's line uses local suppliers, tied by personal networks."
"Two systems, separate command chains—one 'Red Gang' banner."
—
Jason straightened, eyeing the map:
"Here's the weakness."
"Not a solid hall."
"It's brittle tiles stacked—one crack, the whole collapses."
—
ARGUS prompted:
[Suggestion: Draft "Hall Structure Weakening Roadmap"]
→ [Path One: Sever Master Jin's Cold Chain Resources]
→ [Path Two: Amplify Old Peng's Support × Spark Grassroots Split]
→ [Path Three: Introduce "Third Voice" → Force Self-Enemy Identification]
—
Jason didn't choose a path.
He said only:
"We don't move yet."
"But they're—already picking sides."
—
Fuxi Prompt:
"High-stacked tiles don't mean sturdy."
"Shift one thread at the base, and hear the whole roof quake."
Section Five: We Don't Move, But the Map Is Drawn
Pre-dawn, the outpost silent, only ARGUS's light points pulsing like spreading tides.
Jason sat at the table, the screen behind projecting a map no longer of lines but a structure:
Behind one hall, not names, but five command chains, seven supply ends, three conflict nodes.
No longer an enemy.
A "breachable structure."
—
Zhao Mingxuan entered with water, seeing the map, saying softly: "We can move."
"No," Jason shook his head. "We can lay plans."
"True action is making them think they're acting."
—
ARGUS flashed:
[Bright Fire Outpost · Iron Valley Pilot · First Pre-Layout Task]
[Goal One: Infiltrate Red Gang Supply Mid-Section × Set "Delayed Disruption"]
[Goal Two: Build "Public Order Neutral Hub" × Crowd Sentiment Anchor]
[Goal Three: Identify First "Influenceable Speaker" × Spark Proactive Contact]
—
Maria, Lisa Peng, and Welles filed in.
Maria: "Crowds sense the 'hall rift' more, some suggest 'resetting a street council.'"
Welles: "Wei Ran, unprompted, launched two 'team checks,' fearing being pegged as Old Peng's."
Lisa Peng: "Crowd talk's down, not silence—waiting."
—
Jason stood, stepping to the map, saying five words:
"This map—is done."
"From today, we're not probing."
"We're—deploying."
—
He tapped three red points:
Cold Chain Disruption Node
Hall Faction Rift Point
Grassroots Opinion Collision Zone
"Next, we begin 'counter-construction.'"
—
ARGUS updated:
[Bright Fire Outpost · Iron Valley Pilot · First Pre-Layout Task]
[Goal One: Infiltrate Red Gang Supply Mid-Section × Set "Delayed Disruption"]
[Goal Two: Build "Public Order Neutral Hub" × Crowd Sentiment Anchor]
[Goal Three: Identify First "Influenceable Speaker" × Spark Proactive Contact]
—
Zhao Mingxuan eyed the map: "When do we start?"
Jason glanced at the Fuxi interface, saying softly:
"Now."
"We begin building the first—Bright Fire land."
—
Fuxi Prompt:
"Strategy isn't defeating them."
"It's making them doubt they've lost before your sword is drawn."
Section Six: Who Fears Our Stillness Most
Old Qu came in the afternoon, empty bucket on his back, towel around his neck, like any gray zone repairman.
The outpost door's floor still radiated heat, stray wires bare on the ground. He stepped on them, looked up once.
No one invited him, but the door was unlocked. He entered the yard, set the bucket in a corner, sat, and unfolded a handwritten note.
"East Well Alley cold storage, southwest back door swapped guards, armed."
"Night before last, someone went twice, truck didn't enter, cargo dropped, they left."
"And the gray-capped guy, Old Peng's, said he's checking 'new neighbors' exhaust vents."
He meant Jason's new outpost building—the vents didn't even connect to the back street, and the man came too often.
—
Jason didn't speak, eyeing him a few seconds.
Old Qu continued: "I don't know what you're doing. Fire or not, I don't care."
"But your building's lit these days, my kid dares go out nights. No one's banging my water valve at midnight."
"If they crush you, us quiet ones—go back to hiding."
—
Zhao Mingxuan approached, handing a water bottle: "How many spots you hit?"
Old Qu took it, sipped: "Under ten. My work's near, asked around."
"No one's calling you Fire outside."
"But they're watching when you'll move."
"They don't fear you moving."
"They fear you never moving."
—
ARGUS auto-updated a relationship line:
[Figure: Old Qu · Peripheral Worker × Wide Contacts × Stable Flow Node]
[Behavior: Voluntary Intel × No Reward Sought × Neutral Leaning Trust]
[Suggestion: Integrate as "Peripheral Slow-Chain Feedback Point" × No Recruitment, Feedback Only]
—
Jason spoke: "Old Qu, you came to push us to move?"
Old Qu shook his head: "No."
"I want to know when you'll move."
—
Maria, by the window, looked to the street: "Do you know who we are?"
"Don't know," Old Qu said bluntly. "But you're not them."
"They knock with a crew; you don't even have a megaphone."
—
Jason: "You're clear."
"But know—once we move, they have an excuse to strike."
Old Qu stared, then said: "So you'll stay still forever?"
The words weren't heavy, but the yard hushed.
—
After a moment, Jason stood, walked to the bucket, nudging it straight with his foot.
"It's not about us moving."
"It's—who fears our stillness most."
—
ARGUS displayed the hall's internal movement map, red dots showing Old Peng's "informant probes" at three, Master Jin's dispatch chain reshuffling—two reassigned, one rerouted—signaling "redeployed sentries."
Zhao Mingxuan, low: "They're anxious."
Maria: "They want our reaction to decide who leads 'dealing with us.'"
—
Jason nodded: "We don't respond."
"Let them roll dice on their stage."
—
Old Qu stood to leave: "Got to go. Tomorrow I'm fixing East Warehouse's old meter, used to go there often."
"News, I'll come."
—
Jason nodded, seeing him out, no thanks, no plea for more.
Just:
"You owe us nothing."
"But thank you—for speaking."
—
Fuxi silent.
ARGUS mute.
This time, all systems hushed.
Only the bucket, swaying in the breeze, clinked once.
Soft, but clear.