The Grand Summit

Section 1: The Invitations

Three days after the destruction of Woodbury Mall, invitation letters from the Kung Fu Organization arrived at several headquarters across Flushing City.

Each bore the same title:

THE GRAND SUMMIT

At the Flushing City Police Station, Chief Khan and several high-ranking officers, including Chief Grayson, were gathered in a second-floor conference room.

As they examined the invitation, the room suddenly grew darker. They turned toward the window and saw Wayne’s enormous head peering inside. Outside, his massive body was awkwardly half-crouched, too large to fit into the office.

Chief Khan nodded. “All right, I’ll attend the summit. As for Wayne…”

He glanced toward the window.

“Probably not. He’s too big to fit inside City Hall. We’ll need someone else to take his place.”

Wayne sighed. “Oh man, it sucks.”

Meanwhile, at the Frugal Organization headquarters, Joshua, Lindsay, and Linda were discussing the invitation.

Joshua said, “The three of us should go.”

Linda shook her head. “Oh, no. You two go save the world. I’ve got some dirty old men to satisfy at the Forbidden Garden.”

At the gangster headquarters, the air conditioning was blasting at full power.

Canelo and Robinson sat shivering in a freezing conference room, facing a mysterious Grand Elder whose face remained hidden in shadow.

“I’ll attend the summit,” the Grand Elder said. “You two aren’t high-ranking enough. But I suppose one of you can tag along.”

Canelo shrugged. “I ain’t got shit to do. Why not?”

“What about you, Robinson?”

“Nah, got a doctor’s appointment. Gotta get tested for that H… something.”

Canelo stared at him. “HIV?!”

“No, no! HJV! I think it’s called HJV!”

Neither the Grand Elder nor Canelo paid him any further attention.

In a dark room, the only light came from a flickering computer monitor.

Marvel glanced at the screen. A confirmation had just appeared.

“I guess I’ll go.”

Soon afterward, Marvel arrived at a massage parlor.

The corners of his mouth curled upward into a grin.

“Oh yeah, baby.”

Section 2: The Hospital Visit

Inside a hospital room, a patient lay in bed, wrapped in bandages from head to toe like a mummy. Despite the thick layers of bandages, a pair of C-cup breasts remained clearly visible.

In the neighboring bed, an elderly man caught a glimpse of the unusual figure and widened his eyes.

“Oh my God! A female patient right next to me? Look at those curves! Oh no… I mean, oh yeah!”

Unable to resist, he quietly pulled aside the curtain separating their beds and peeked through the gap.

On the other side, Kyle and a doctor stood beside the heavily bandaged patient. It was none other than Pastor Simon, who had miraculously survived the destruction of Woodbury Mall.

The doctor examined Simon’s medical records.

“You’re extremely lucky, Pastor Simon. Someone was right beneath you when the blast hit, absorbing nearly ninety percent of the impact. That’s why you survived with relatively minor injuries. You’ve got bruises all over your body and a few fractures, but nothing life-threatening.”

Simon let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God I’m still alive!”

The moment the elderly man heard Simon’s deep, masculine voice, his eyes widened in horror.

“Oh no! I did NOT see that coming! He’s a man! Wait… my heart! I’m having another heart attack!”

He clutched his chest as his heart monitor suddenly began sounding an alarm.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The doctor immediately rushed over to help him, leaving Kyle and Simon to speak privately.

Kyle stepped closer. “I’m glad you’re still alive, Pastor. But I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Simon looked at him. “What is it?”

“Esther… the winner of our beauty contest… she was killed in the battle.”

Tears immediately rolled down Simon’s cheeks.

“Oh no! Not Esther! She had the finest body in all of Flushing City! We used to have sex in the bathroom all the time!”

Kyle froze. “Wait… WHAT?”

Simon suddenly realized what had just slipped out of his mouth.

“I mean… uh… we used to have a lot of Bible study sessions together!”

Kyle stood there for a moment, trying to process what he had just heard.

How could Esther possibly be interested in Pastor Simon? Besides, he’s the holiest man on Earth! He would never do anything like that. I must have misheard him.

Kyle placed a finger beneath his nose, thinking even harder.

Of course! They were studying the Bible together! No wonder her death hit him so hard. What was I thinking? Stop having such sinful thoughts, Kyle!

Kyle nodded sympathetically.

He lowered his head. “Esther had such a bright future. She joined Humbleism less than two months ago, and she’d already risen to a senior position. I thought she would go even further.”

Simon said nothing, but deep down, he couldn’t agree more.

Yeah, she really was something. The face of an angel. The body of a devil. I was even thinking of promoting her to assistant pastor.

Just then, the door opened, and Michael walked into the hospital room, carrying his signature briefcase. His gold-framed glasses rested neatly on his nose.

He noticed Kyle standing beside Simon’s bed.

“Excuse me, small fly… I mean, little fellow. Would you mind stepping outside for a moment? I have an important matter to discuss with Simon?”

“All right,” Kyle replied.

But just as he was about to leave, he noticed one of Michael’s massive pectoral muscles twitch beneath his shirt.

Kyle immediately stiffened.

“A-All right! I’ll be leaving now!”

He scurried out of the room like a frightened mouse.

Michael turned toward Simon.

“Boss Colin has received an invitation to the Grand Summit. He has decided that you and I will attend, given that your injuries aren’t too severe.”

Section 3: The Power Rankings

A few days later, inside Flushing City Hall, a large round table stood in the center of a spacious conference room. Each seat had a professionally printed nameplate identifying the organization its representatives belonged to.

At the head of the table sat two senior figures from the Kung Fu Organization.

The first was its president, Mr. Wei, a man with a thick, bushy mustache, dressed in a traditional Zhongshan suit. Beside him sat the vice president, Mr. Sang, an elderly man wearing a traditional Qing Dynasty robe, with a long goatee hanging from his chin.

The two men slowly looked around the table.

“Hmm. Looks like everyone’s here,” Mr. Wei remarked.

The Kung Fu Organization maintained a highly classified database of fighters across Flushing City. Its Power Level rankings were strictly confidential, accessible only to a handful of senior officials.

F-rank represented ordinary humans. C-rank fighters could defeat anywhere from a handful to several dozen ordinary people at once. B-rank fighters could destroy cars and buildings, while A-rank fighters were capable of destruction across large areas.

And then there was S-rank—a level of power beyond description, reserved for only the most extraordinary individuals.

The two officials reviewed the rankings on a private tablet, exchanging their observations in low whispers.

Their eyes first settled on a nameplate that read:

POLICE DEPARTMENT

Behind it sat Chief Khan, comfortably leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed. Beside him, Chief Grayson was kneeling on the floor, carefully polishing Khan’s shoes.

Mr. Wei checked the database.

“Chief Khan. S-rank, as expected,” he murmured.

Mr. Sang looked at the next name.

“And Chief Grayson… I’d expect him to be around C-rank.”

But the database showed something entirely different.

Chief Grayson — Power Level: F

Mr. Sang raised an eyebrow. “F? That’s ordinary human level. He’s that weak?”

Mr. Wei glanced back at Grayson.

“Well, he still serves an important purpose. He makes Chief Khan look even more impressive.”

Meanwhile, Grayson looked up from Khan’s shoe.

“Chief, is that leg getting numb? Would you like me to polish the other shoe?”

Without saying a word, Khan shifted his crossed legs, presenting his other shoe.

Grayson immediately began polishing it.

Their attention continued counterclockwise to the next nameplate.

FRUGAL ORGANIZATION

Joshua sat in the center, with Lindsay beside him.

Mr. Sang checked the database.

“Frugal Organization. Just as powerful as expected. Joshua and Lindsay, both A+ rank.”

Mr. Wei glanced at Joshua’s records.

“If one of his lungs hadn’t been ruined by that unlicensed doctor Mildy, Joshua would easily be S-rank.”

Section 4: The Remaining Representatives

Their eyes moved to the next nameplate.

HUMBLE ORGANIZATION

Michael sat upright in his chair, wearing his signature gold-framed glasses, with his briefcase resting beside him. Next to him sat Pastor Simon, still wrapped in bandages from head to toe like a mummy.

Mr. Sang quietly checked the database.

“Michael, A-rank. Pastor Simon, B-rank.”

He glanced at the two representatives.

“Just as expected, Colin didn’t show up.”

Mr. Wei nodded. “He hasn’t made a public appearance in almost ten years.”

“Very well. Let’s move on,” Mr. Sang replied.

Their attention moved to the next nameplate.

THE GANGSTERS

Two men sat behind it.

The first was Canelo, dressed in his usual street clothes, casually leaning back in his chair.

Beside him sat a strange-looking man with spiky black hair, almost like a Super Saiyan. His tongue hung out of his mouth, and his half-buttoned white shirt exposed a thick patch of chest hair. He wore black jeans, with a black steel staff resting beside his chair.

It was Jason, one of the gangsters’ Grand Elders.

Mr. Wei checked the database.

“Canelo. C-rank.”

Mr. Sang glanced toward Jason.

“And Jason… A+ rank.”

Mr. Wei nodded. “Quite a difference between those two.”

Section 5: The Uninvited Guest

Just as Mr. Wei and Mr. Sang finished examining the representatives, something unusual caught their attention.

At the far end of the table sat a young man with a cheeky grin. In front of him was a piece of paper, hastily folded into a makeshift nameplate.

Written across it in large, messy letters were the words:

GENARAL PUBLIK

Mr. Wei stared at the sign.

“General public? Who invited this fellow?”

Mr. Sang looked equally confused. “I don’t believe he’s on the guest list.”

The young man grinned.

“Hey, what’s up? I’m Dinello! I heard my big sister was coming, so I figured I’d come hang out too!”

He waved cheerfully toward Lindsay, who was sitting across the table.

Lindsay glanced at him with a look of embarrassment and annoyance, then quickly looked away.

Mr. Wei frowned. “This is a private summit. You’re not supposed to be here.”

He signaled to the security guards standing near the entrance.

Two guards immediately approached Dinello.

Dinello glanced at them, then jumped out of his chair.

“Oh shit! I gotta get outta here!”

He shot past the guards in a gust of wind.

By the time they turned around, he was gone.

Lindsay shook her head.

“Oh man, my little brother is as goofy as ever.”

Mr. Wei and Mr. Sang exchanged a glance before turning their attention back to the summit.

Section 6: The Balance of Power

With the unexpected disturbance over, Mr. Wei slowly rose from his chair. His voice echoed across the conference room.

“For decades, Flushing City has maintained a delicate balance of power among its many organizations. Through countless conflicts, that balance has endured. But Humbleism’s recent expansion has shaken the very balance of our world!”

He paused, looking around the table.

“Today, we gather not merely to settle a territorial dispute, but to restore the balance of power itself.”

Mr. Sang unfolded a large map of Flushing City across the table. The map was divided into different colors, each representing the territories controlled by various organizations.

“After reviewing the recent conflict, we have decided that Humbleism must return several territories seized during the Crusade to their previous owners.”

He pointed to SkyView Mall.

“For example, SkyView Mall shall be returned to the Gangsters.”

He then pointed to several smaller shopping malls.

“Humbleism may continue collecting protection fees in these designated areas. However, a portion of the fees collected from the occupied territories must be refunded.”

The shopping malls assigned to Humbleism were among the least popular in Flushing City, with hardly any customers.

After a brief discussion, all four parties agreed to the proposed arrangement.

Michael took out his phone and opened an image of a map that Boss Colin had sent him before the summit.

He compared it with the map spread across the table.

Every territory matched exactly.

Michael adjusted his gold-framed glasses and leaned toward Simon.

“Remarkable. Boss Colin predicted every single territory allocation before this summit even began.”

With the terms settled, the representatives signed the agreement.

The Grand Summit was officially over.

Section 7: Life Goes On

The next morning, life in Flushing City continued as usual.

Outside Ray’s Bakery, a man was walking down the street, carrying an enormous Big Mag.

Suddenly, Sean came flying in with a powerful kick, sending the man crashing to the ground. The enormous Big Mag flew out of his arms and landed on the sidewalk.

Sean grabbed him by the collar with one hand and lifted him up.

“HEY! You think you can steal a Big Mag right under my nose? Not on my watch!”

“What the fuck?! I paid for it!” The man pulled a receipt from his pocket.

Big Mag — $10.00

Sean glanced at it.

“Oh. My bad.”

He released the man’s collar.

THUD!

The man landed on his backside as Sean turned and walked away without looking back.

Meanwhile, at the Forbidden Garden, Linda was casually painting her fingernails.

Suddenly, a greasy old man walked in and slammed $150 onto the counter.

SLAM!

“Hey, baby! I want an hour with you!”

Linda didn’t even look up from her nails.

“The other girls? A hundred and fifty an hour. Me? A grand.”

The old man paused for a moment.

“Hmm… Do you take Apple Pay?”

At Sakura Spa, Mr. Sang walked through the entrance in his traditional Qing Dynasty robe.

“Amy and Coco, please.”

The two women immediately rushed over, each wrapping her arms around one of his, and escorted him upstairs.

Mr. Sang stroked his long goatee.

“Ah, it’s been a long time since I’ve had Two Girls, One Cup.”

Finally, at RamenHood inside SkyView Mall, the owner’s daughter spotted Canelo walking past the entrance.

Her face lit up. She immediately rushed outside and stopped in front of him, bowing ninety degrees.

“Finally, Canelo! You’re back! Thank goodness!”

Canelo pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He glanced at her, gave a slight nod, and continued walking.

Her cheeks turned slightly pink as she watched him walk away. She kept her eyes on him until he turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

And so, life in Flushing City went on as usual.