Under the night sky, Singapore resembled a mask torn in two.

In the administrative district where the colonial government was located and the Tanglin area where Europeans resided, there was a civilized world illuminated by gas lamps; while deep within the boat quay and Chinatown, viewed as the city's dark underbelly, lay the precursor to a fortress town filled with dampness, crowding, and crime. Countless coolies struggling for survival formed the flesh and blood, the very fabric of the city's lowest stratum.

Lin Jie changed into a gray coarse cloth trench coat, the most common sight on the South Seas docks. On his head was a wide-brimmed soft felt hat with its brim pulled low, and the tactical boots on his feet were deliberately smeared with a thick layer of black mud to conceal their originally fine quality.

At this moment, he looked like a down-and-out sailor who had just disembarked from some ocean-going freighter, eager to find either amusement or a channel to fence stolen goods.

He navigated through the intricate network of alleys behind the boat quay.

The ground here was perpetually damp and muddy. Sewage and fermenting garbage piled in the drainage ditches emitted a nauseating stench. Pairs of eyes filled with vigilance and greed secretly watched every stranger who intruded into this territory.

Lin Jie walked straight towards an underground stall with a sign reading "Shun Kee Tea House," which in reality operated illegal gambling and low-quality opium businesses.

Based on the intelligence provided by Su Sanniang and his understanding of the operational patterns of the underworld in this era, whenever any new type of contraband wanted to circulate on the market, the first place it would appear was definitely such a mixed gathering place for information exchange.

Pushing open the wooden door, the tea house was a cacophony of voices. Dozens of shirtless dockworkers and gangsters with fierce, scowling faces were gathered around several gambling tables, shouting loudly. On a few bamboo couches in the corner lay several addicts puffing away on their pipes.

Lin Jie's entry didn't cause much of a stir.

He found a relatively quiet corner to sit down and casually slapped a silver dollar of pure quality onto the table.

"The best smoke," Lin Jie said in Nanyang Mandarin with a heavy Cantonese accent. "Don't try to fool me with that rubbish mixed with ash."

The clerk, who had been dozing on the counter, immediately perked up at the sound of the silver dollar hitting the table. He looked Lin Jie up and down, and after confirming the other was a "fat sheep" willing to spend money, he immediately switched to a fawning smile.

"Just a moment, sir." The clerk deftly pocketed the silver dollar. "Authentic Bengal 'black earth,' guaranteed to make you feel better than an immortal."

Lin Jie's gaze passed over the clerk's shoulder, landing on a thin, gaunt man drinking alone in the deepest part of the tea house.

That man had a sharp, weasel-like face. Though dressed in a seemingly respectable silk gown, his constantly shifting, bloodshot eyes betrayed the anxiety and fear in his heart.

His right hand kept unconsciously rubbing the inside of his sleeve, where something seemed to be hidden, something not meant for the light.

That man was called "Mouse Qiang."

He was the most well-informed and also the most cowardly middleman in this area, specializing in providing special "amusements" for those with some means who didn't dare come to such places themselves.

Lin Jie stood up, holding his teacup, and slowly sauntered over to Mouse Qiang's table.

"Got a light?"

Lin Jie took out a cigarette from his trench coat pocket and casually sat down opposite the man.

Mouse Qiang was startled by this sudden approach. He flinched like a frightened rabbit, and the hand hidden in his sleeve clenched tightly.

"No... no light," Mouse Qiang's voice trembled slightly. "I don't smoke."

"Is that so?" Lin Jie smiled and took out an exquisite silver lighter from his pocket. "But I heard the stuff you sell is more potent than smoke."

With a *click*.

A blue flame danced between them.

Lin Jie slowly moved that flame towards Mouse Qiang's sleeve, the one hiding something.

"I want to buy something red," Lin Jie's voice was very low, only audible to the two of them. "The kind that lets people see celestial maidens... the red pills."

Mouse Qiang's pupils contracted to pinpoints.

He stood up, wanting to flee, but as soon as he moved, he felt a piercing, agonizing pain in his knee.

Lin Jie's foot had somehow already stomped firmly on the top of his foot, the immense pressure making his foot bones creak.

"Sit down."

The smile on Lin Jie's face remained gentle, but his eyes held a chill.

"Don't force me to use a knife in a place like this."

Mouse Qiang slumped back into the chair, cold sweat soaking through his back.

As a seasoned veteran who had been in this business for over a decade, he understood very clearly that the man before him was no ordinary buyer. The killing intent hidden beneath that calm exterior was something only those who had truly seen blood could emanate.

"Big brother... you've got the wrong person," Mouse Qiang said, trembling. "I just sell strength pills. That kind of deadly stuff, I wouldn't dare touch it."

"I know you wouldn't dare sell it," Lin Jie's lighter was still burning, the flame almost licking Mouse Qiang's cuff. "Ironhead Liu is dead, died horribly. Now the entire Hongmen is looking for the supplier. You're just a middleman, no need to stake your life for that bit of commission."

Mentioning Ironhead Liu's name finally caused a crack in Mouse Qiang's psychological defenses.

He certainly knew about that manner of death.

The terrifying rumor of being drained of essence and blood, turned into a desiccated corpse, had already spread through the underworld. All the small-time dealers who had come into contact with the red pills were lying low to save their lives.

"I... I really don't know where the goods come from," Mouse Qiang's voice took on a sob. "I just get the goods from my supplier, and every transaction is done blindfolded."

"Then who is your supplier?" The flame in Lin Jie's hand remained steady.

"Don't know the name... really don't!" Mouse Qiang, watching the flame about to burn his clothes, broke down with a low roar. "I only know the place! They call it the 'Canary Cage'!"

"Location."

"In... in the Tanglin area! Near the botanical garden, in that private estate! That's the foreign masters' territory, you can only get in with a special gilt-edged invitation!"

Lin Jie withdrew the lighter, the flame extinguishing.

He released his foot from atop the other's foot.

"Very good."

Lin Jie took out a wad of banknotes from his coat—highly versatile Straits Settlements currency—and stuffed it directly into Mouse Qiang's collar.

"This is for your medical expenses, and hush money."

"If a third person learns of our conversation today..."

Lin Jie didn't finish the sentence. He lightly patted Mouse Qiang's shoulder, then, under the small-time dealer's terrified gaze, got up and left the tea house, melting back into the dark, rainy night outside.

The clue was obtained.

Canary Cage.

The name sounded both like a tender, alluring sanctuary and like an exquisite prison for caging playthings.

And for Lin Jie, that place was the source of the red mystery.

Two hours later.

When Lin Jie reappeared on the tree-lined boulevard of Singapore's Tanglin area, he had already completed a transformation from a down-and-out sailor to a Macau high-roller.

The gray coarse cloth trench coat was replaced by a well-tailored, finely crafted black velvet tailcoat. The soft felt hat was also replaced by a shiny, genuine silk top hat.

He wore several gold rings on his fingers and leaned on a cane with an ivory handle, exuding a unique aura that mixed the arrogance of a nouveau riche with a sense of Eastern mystery.

This was a meticulously planned infiltration under disguise.

To ensure nothing went wrong, he had even utilized a secret financial channel left by Ethan in Singapore to forge a VIP identity certificate from a top Macau casino and a large bill of exchange.

The "Canary Cage" was not a club that openly advertised.

It was hidden deep within a typical British colonial-style estate, surrounded by towering walls and dense tropical plants. Only a single ornate wrought-iron gate stood tightly closed, with several uniformed Sikh guards, holding leashed German shepherds, vigilantly patrolling every pedestrian who tried to approach.

This was a true lawless land belonging to the "upper class."

It was the private garden where those usually impeccably dressed colonial officials and wealthy merchants removed their masks and indulged in releasing their inner desires.

A black four-wheel carriage slowly stopped before the gate.

Lin Jie lowered the carriage window and handed over a gilt-edged invitation that, though forged, possessed genuine anti-counterfeiting watermarks—obtained through Su Sanniang's network from a bankrupt merchant who had just died from the red pills' side effects.

"Good evening, sir."

The British butler, who seemed to be in charge, took the invitation and examined it carefully. Then, using the carriage's lamplight, he scrutinized the unfamiliar yet distinguished-looking Eastern guest inside the carriage.

The unmistakable scent of money and the cold, detached gaze that only those long accustomed to high positions possessed dispelled his doubts.

"Welcome to the Canary Cage, esteemed Mr. Lin," the butler bowed and gestured for the guards to open the gate. "I hope you will find your bliss here tonight."

The carriage entered the estate.

Passing through the long driveway paved with white gravel, a brilliantly lit, white Western-style mansion full of Baroque decorations came into view.

Even from outside, Lin Jie could hear the deliberately subdued, decadent piano music and people's low laughter coming from within.

The cloyingly sweet scent in the air grew stronger here.

Lin Jie got out of the carriage, adjusted the cufflinks on his sleeves, and strode confidently through the open door.

The interior decoration of the club was the epitome of extravagance.

A huge crystal chandelier hung from the dome, illuminating the entire hall as bright as day.

The walls were covered with oil paintings bearing strong erotic overtones, and the floor was carpeted with thick, crimson velvet that could practically swallow one's ankles.

But the most eye-catching were not these expensive decorations.

It was the strange, faint pink smoke permeating the entire space.

This smoke seemed to have weight as it hovered in mid-air, flowing slowly with people's movements, rendering the entire club like an underwater world filled with ambiguous and psychedelic colors.

The hall was packed with people.

There were British officers in military uniforms, portly Chinese merchants, and fashionably dressed European noblewomen.

They each occupied semi-enclosed velvet booths or couches, lounging there in postures that were lazy, even decadent.

Each person held an exquisitely crafted, slender pipe carved from ivory or jade.

And in the bowls of those pipes, there was only a fingernail-sized, crystalline, and eerily glowing red... red pill.

That was the "Bliss Red Pill."

Lin Jie also found a corner seat with a good view, but he refused the pipe offered by the attendant, only ordering an expensive glass of whiskey.

He activated [Mental Staircase]. Under the cover of his seemingly casual sunglasses, he calmly and meticulously observed everything around him.

The state of the guests here was very abnormal.

Though they all appeared to be enjoying ultimate pleasure, with intoxicated, satisfied smiles on their faces.

In Lin Jie's eyes, it looked more like a final rally before death.

Their eyes were bright but unfocused, their pupils dilated to the limit.

Their skin showed an abnormal flush, caused by the dilation of capillaries due to excessively fast blood flow.

Most crucially, their breathing rhythm.

It was an extremely slow, deep, and rhythmic breathing pattern. Each inhalation seemed to suck all the air from their lungs, and each exhalation seemed to expel their very souls.

"Inhale... incubate... exhale."

Lin Jie silently analyzed this process in his mind.

He noticed that when the guests inhaled the smoke produced by burning the red pills, their chest cavities would undergo a faint but definite tremor.

He speculated that was the reaction of those red crystals—the insect eggs he had discovered in the corpse's lungs—entering the alveoli and rapidly activating.

And after about ten minutes.

When the blissful sensation reached its peak, the guests would open their mouths and exhale a plume of deep red smoke, more concentrated and vividly colored than what they had inhaled.

This exhaled smoke seemed to possess a certain phototaxis or magnetism, slowly drifting towards the ceiling of the hall along invisible air currents.

There, hidden among the crevices of the exquisite crystal chandeliers, were copper suction vents.

Those suction vents were greedily devouring, with an extremely gentle suction force, this red smoke "refined" from within human bodies.

This was not a club providing entertainment at all.

This was a massive breeding farm using living humans as containers and filters.

"Astonishing ecological cycle, isn't it?"

A gentle, cultured male voice suddenly sounded beside Lin Jie.

Lin Jie turned his head.

A tall British gentleman, wearing a well-tailored white suit and gold-rimmed glasses, stood beside his booth. He held a glass of red wine, a meticulous professional smile on his face.

He appeared to be around forty, extremely well-maintained, with fair skin, slender and dry fingers, and carrying a faint scent of disinfectant and mint.

"I am the owner of this club. You may call me the Pharmacist."

The gentleman gave a slight bow, his manners impeccably elegant.

"I've seen you sitting here for quite some time, seemingly not very interested in our specialty?"

The Pharmacist's gaze, through the gold-rimmed lenses, looked with interest at this Eastern guest who, unlike the others immersed in the red pills, appeared utterly bored.

In this hall filled with hallucinogenic smoke, those who could maintain such clear eyes were rare.

"Are you disappointed, it seems?" the Pharmacist's voice was gentle. "Have we been inadequate hosts?"

"I'm just rather particular."

Lin Jie swirled the glass in his hand, his tone carrying just the right amount of arrogance and weariness.

"I heard this is Singapore's top gold-sinking den, where you can buy things that let you see heaven. But this stuff..."

He casually picked up the ivory pipe on the table, dipped his fingertip in a bit of powder from that red pill, brought it to his nose to smell, then threw it back onto the tray with a look of disdain.

"It just smells of stale mildew. This kind of smoke that turns people into weaklings can only fool the coolies outside. Using it to entertain me is rather beneath my dignity."

Lin Jie looked up, his gaze piercing the Pharmacist's eyes.

"And, if I'm not mistaken, this smoke..." He pointed at the faint pink gas drifting around. "It's 'second-hand goods' that others have inhaled and then exhaled, right?"

The Pharmacist's eyes narrowed slightly, then the smile at the corner of his mouth deepened.

A hint of greedy appreciation flashed in his gaze.

Someone who could see through the essence of this place's operation at a glance was definitely no ordinary gambler.

This was a connoisseur.

Or rather, this was an "upper-class person" with an extremely high perception of spiritual nature.

"Sir, your sense of smell is quite sharp."

The Pharmacist walked over and sat down opposite Lin Jie, speaking in a tone as if discussing art.

"But you've misunderstood one point. This isn't 'second-hand goods.' This is 'fermentation.'"

"Just as wine needs time to mature, these red pills also need a warm bed to catalyze."

He pointed at the guests around them, in states of bliss, breathing heavily.

"For these mediocre souls, being able to become a warm bed is already the greatest honor of their lives. They obtain bliss in this process, and we..."

The Pharmacist lowered his voice. Beneath that elegant gentlemanly demeanor, a hint of a predator's fangs finally showed.

"We harvest the essence."

He took out an exquisite crystal box from his pocket and gently pushed it towards Lin Jie.

"What's in the hall is merely diluted residue, feed prepared for livestock."

The Pharmacist looked at Lin Jie, his eyes full of inducement.

"But I can see that you are different from them." 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

"The aura about you is very... special. The toxic mist here can't even approach your skin. You possess an enviable, powerful physique."

He mistakenly thought Lin Jie's repelling reaction was some kind of extraordinary innate life force.

In the Pharmacist's eyes, such a person with vigorous life force and resilient spirit was simply a perfect "culture vessel" encountered once in a century, or a premium customer capable of withstanding higher concentrations of "essence."

Either way, it was worth his personal intervention.

"True treasures are not displayed in such noisy places."

The Pharmacist stood up, straightened his suit, and made an elegant gesture of invitation.

"If you truly wish to pursue an experience that transcends the mortal flesh and reaches directly into the divine realm."

"If you have the courage to try that... firsthand 'undiluted extract.'"

"Then, please follow me."

He cast out a lure.

A deadly lure aimed at the greedy and thrill-seekers.

Looking at this man talking so glibly before him, Lin Jie perfectly concealed the killing intent in his heart behind his sunglasses.

He certainly knew what the so-called "undiluted extract" was.

This madman wanted to turn him into the highest-grade walking corpse here.

"Sounds interesting."

Lin Jie put down his glass, a smile appearing on his face that seemed eager to try a new toy.

"Lead the way."

He stood up, his fingers lightly touching the scalpel handle hidden in his sleeve.

"I hope your treasure is worth my time."

The Pharmacist nodded with satisfaction, turned, and walked towards the hidden door concealed behind a huge oil painting.

The moment he turned, he didn't see the flash of cold light that briefly appeared in the eyes of the distinguished guest behind him.