Ah Beng was the undisputed king of Geylang’s grimier backalleys. His name wasn’t just whispered in fear through the crowded hawker centres or dim lorongs, it was a curse etched into the flesh and bones of every small-time thug bold enough to strut across his turf.His frame was broad, mapped with spiralling dragon ink from his collarbone to his wrists, and a jagged blade-scar across his left cheek forced anyone facing him to cast their eyes down.Ah Beng wasn’t the sort of boss to sit pretty in an air-conditioned office counting cash. He was out on the pavement, running every deal himself, and above all, he was always seething.Rage was his native tongue. To his boys, Ah Beng never spoke, he barked. One minor slip, and plastic stools would fly or tables would flip. Nobody dared hold his gaze for more than three seconds, except for one guy: Marcus.Marcus and Ah Beng had been tight since secondary school. Raised on the same asphalt, equally starved, equally desperate for power.Yet as

Ah Beng walked away from the parade square with unsteady steps. The female teacher was still behind him, coaxing him to the sick bay, but Ah Beng ignored her.He didn't need help. What he needed were answers. Where was he? Who owned this body? And most importantly, how was he going to get back?"Get back where?"The question slammed into his mind out of nowhere. Ah Beng froze in the middle of the footpath connecting the parade square to the school building. His gaze grew distant.His home—a grand mansion in a wealthy enclave near Joo Chiat with high iron gates and four Dobermans—had surely been seized by Marcus by now. Or maybe burned down. Marcus wouldn't leave a single trace behind.Ah Beng didn't have a home anymore.He had nothing.His stomach still throbbed with pain. As he ran his tongue along his gums, he tasted metal. Blood. From inside his mouth, likely where his teeth had cut into his lip from that punch. Ah Beng spat to the side, a splatter of crimson staining the gravel be

An hour after Darren hauled Ah Beng’s body away from the trash heap at Kallang River, dozens of Ah Beng’s crew members gathered along the embankment, their faces grim after receiving news that their boss had perished in the river.They combed the river from upstream to downstream, diving into the murky water, ripping through piles of garbage, and searching every corner where their boss’s body might have washed ashore.The result? Absolute zero.No body. No tracks. Nothing at all, because Darren and Uncle Raj had made sure not a single trace was left behind. Even Ah Beng’s wallet had been carefully taken by Uncle Raj.Marcus stood in the middle of the crowd, wearing a black long-sleeved shirt rolled up to his elbows. His face was pale, his eyes swollen and red, the result of rubbing them raw inside the car before getting out. He kept his head down, his shoulders trembling softly."Boss Marcus," called one of Ah Beng’s crew, a burly man named Jason. "We’ve searched all the way to the ri

Darren frowned, dialing the number that had sent him the message. It went straight to a dead end."Bro, are you the leader of the White Tiger Gang?""What's with the face, kid? You look like you've seen a ghost. And I'm the only ghost around here." Ah Beng floated closer, peering over Darren’s shoulder. "What’s that? Did someone send a text?"Darren didn't answer. His mind was racing. Someone knew. Someone had seen them pull Ah Beng’s body out of the river. Someone knew Ah Beng’s identity and was threatening to expose everything."Darren. Show me the phone!" Ah Beng commanded, his tone dead serious.Darren tilted the screen toward the floating spirit. Ah Beng scanned the message, and his expression instantly darkened. The jovial gang boss was gone, replaced by the ruthless leader who had once ruled the streets of Geylang."Black Stallion Gang," Ah Beng muttered. "Victor.""Victor? Who's that?""Leader of the Black Stallion Gang. My arch-nemesis. We've been at war for years over territ