Era of Magic and Martial Arts-Chapter 229 - 213: Dog

My parents named me Xiang Ergou, and I don’t like the name.

Because I heard the boss tell me, dogs walk a thousand miles to eat shit, wolves walk a thousand miles to eat meat.

So I changed my name to Lang.

The boss praised my ambition and asked if I wanted to collect debts for the company, and I agreed.

In one month, in just one month, I collected 17 debts for the company, three of which were bad debts that others couldn’t recover.

Since then, no one called me by my name anymore; everyone respectfully called me "Brother Lang."

I moved out of the rundown shack where my dad had died and into a big house.

The house was one that a debtor handed over to the company to settle a debt, recovered by me, along with the corpse of a man and a dying woman.

Debt collection, wall building, it was the most work I did for the boss, and I got a lot of money, found a lot of joy.

That time was the happiest time of my life; I thought I found the meaning of life.

Until one day, as usual, I went to collect a debt for the boss. The debtor was a sick old man, looking like he was on the brink of death.

No matter how I pressured him, he refused to pay. I smashed his limbs one by one and built them into the wall, but he only screamed in pain and refused me.

I didn’t understand how his bones could be so hard, so I shattered all the bones in his body and built them into the wall. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

That was my first failure in debt collection, as if some kind of destiny was warning me, and a series of misfortunes occurred.

The boss went wrong practicing martial arts and warped into a terrifying monster, killing anyone inside the company.

Then, people from the Arresting Bureau surrounded the company. Their leader was an incredibly ruthless woman, who with one kick, like a scorpion’s sting, blew the boss’s head apart and crushed a wall.

A pile of mangled corpses rolled out from the wall, and the sight in that moment was unbelievably beautiful.

I was locked up in prison, initially sentenced to death, but I made a deal with the judge using a house under my name, and I was put into the Second Prison, becoming a minor offender.

At first it was fine; the prison provided food and shelter, and I became the prison leader.

However, the good times didn’t last long; the management of the prison gradually became harsh, starting to charge us for food and accommodation, requiring us to pay weekly.

The prisoners naturally refused, causing several riots, and the corridors were washed with blood repeatedly, but couldn’t be cleaned.

Then, a construction team entered the prison, renovating the entire place; the walls were freshly painted white, corridors filled with cameras, isolation doors set up between different prison zones, layer upon layer of door security.

Moreover, a crematorium was built inside the prison; for a time, the cremator ran in continuous operation every day.

I moved bodies to the crematorium a few times; judging by my years of wall-building experience, I noticed the wall behind the cremator was exceptionally sturdy.

I suspected there was an unspeakable secret hidden inside that wall, but I never told anyone; it was a secret buried deep in my heart.

After that, it didn’t take long for the inmates to not dare refuse to pay.

But after paying the meal fees, the quality of food in the prison plummeted, every meal was sticky mush.

Like pig feed, tasteless, and after eating it, the body’s energy became unbelievably sluggish, as if the bones were weighed down with heavy shackles, making it hard to resist when the prison guards swung down their electric batons.

I knew what the prison’s agenda was, but facing the gaping gun barrels on the high walls, I was powerless and could only submit to eating that sticky mush.

Because not eating would truly lead to starvation.

That day, I felt like I was eating shit, and I realized that I turned from a wolf back into a dog.

Days passed one by one, and when there were only three months left until my release, the prison replaced the warden, who came up with an odd [bottom elimination system].

On the same day, those prison guards went crazy, swinging their electric batons, mercilessly killing an inmate who couldn’t pay enough money right in front of me.

I watched those bloodthirsty prison guards; their silhouettes flashed in my mind, just like the crazed version of me previously.

But now, I had become the one being collected from.

But it didn’t matter; I still had money outside, enough to last the remaining three months and enough left over for me to rebuild and rise again after I get out.

By then, I could start my own mortgage company, be my own boss, using the advanced debt collection techniques I learned from Second Prison, to crush competitors outside, then step by step make the company bigger and stronger.

Just as I was planning and envisioning the beautiful future after release, two night-shift prison guards interrupted my dream, slick-tongued convincing my foolish, poor cellmates.

Refuse to pay?

What a joke?

If a debt collector can’t collect money, then they can only collect lives!

I dared not play stupid or dumb right on the brink of freedom, using my own bones to clash against electric batons.

But I still pretended to agree with those two prison guards because my cellmates, each one of them, had been riled up by that newly arrived, supposedly kind prison guard.

Although he often wore a gentle smile and spoke civilized and reasonably, I could feel the terrifying malice hidden behind that smile.

The way he looked at us was as if examining toys, the hidden coldness and cruelty even more creepy than when I walled those people inside the walls back then.

After all, my original intention was simply to get their money, whereas this prison guard named Feng Mu only wanted our lives. No, not right, he wanted to sell our lives for a good price.

I wouldn’t fall for his trap.

So, during the day, when the debt collecting prison guards, face filled with viciousness, swung the electric batons, knocked three inmates to the ground, lying in pools of blood.

And then raised the baton again, sneered as he approached me; at the moment the baton came down, I immediately went down on all fours, like a dog, revealing a fearful yet fawning face.

I just lightly took a hit, but I screamed more heartbreakingly than anyone.

The prison guards laughed heartily, and I cracked a smile, taking the phone handed to me by the prison guards, contacting the woman outside I had tamed like a dog, who in accordance with my instructions, transferred the money in full to the account provided by the prison guards.

My submission spread like an invisible pressure to every prisoner’s heart, and they all lost the courage to resist, submissively handing over double the usual money.

I looked at their mourning expressions, glaring daggers at me, daring not speak or act against me.

I disdainfully pursed my lips, and after the guards left, said to them:

"Why are you looking at me like that, are you truly stupid enough to think you could fight against the electric baton with your bones? I’m saving your lives here, damn it."

At this moment, I truly felt like I saved them, at least saved them for a week.

Moreover, after living for thirty-three years, I suddenly realized something like waking up from a dream:

Wolves walk a thousand miles eating meat but will be beaten to death; dogs walk a thousand miles eating shit but can live forever.

So, what’s wrong with being a dog? Only a fool would go crazy and want to be a wolf, pfft— how stupid.

Indeed.

The name my parents gave me is not bad; I like my name.

My name is Xiang Ergou, dog’s dog!