Now?
Half of them were slumped on couches, others leaned against the dusty walls. Someone had tossed a crumpled energy drink can into the corner, and it hadn't moved in days.
"Damn," one of the younger members, Xiao Fei, muttered, flipping a worn coin between his fingers. "When boss was around, we were never this bored."
Ling Bu didn't look up from where he sat, legs crossed on the table, cigarette hanging lazily from his lips.
"Yeah," muttered another. "Used to be five jobs a week. Now we're like… part-time crooks."
The others laughed, but it was a hollow sound. Nobody said it out loud, but they all missed him—Fu Jing Rong.
The boss.
The man who had united them, made them powerful, made them feared.
Ling Bu exhaled smoke and let his head fall back against the chair. "Other gangs are starting to talk," he said flatly. "Saying we're done. Calling us the Ghost Crew."
"They're not wrong," Xiao Fei muttered. "It's been a year. Maybe…"
