Old Man, Prepare to Die The Oppression of the Pokémon King

It was almost afternoon.

Ye Cheng and the Head Maid rode their small electric scooter, preparing to leave the welfare home. It was a bit of a pity—after waiting so long, the Head Maid still hadn’t seen the Director Chen, whom Ye Cheng had been "fixated on" sending to another world as a hero.

Pity aside, there was more joy now. Their mood was pretty great.

"Hug tighter. If you fall off, I’m not responsible for you," the Head Maid said coldly.

Feeling the snugness behind her, the Head Maid curled her lips slightly and got ready to drive off.

Clatter, clatter—several children ran out of the welfare home. They were oddly shaped, but the Head Maid had already built up a certain immunity and no longer reacted like she had that morning.

The fear-driven retreat.

That would’ve been a bit rude. Now, she could calmly face these little "Pokémon."

"Sister, you’re so pretty. I like you." Stammering, the boy at the front pulled out a flower from behind—obviously just picked from somewhere—and handed it to the Head Maid, his face flushed with shyness.

The Head Maid frowned, thinking about how to politely refuse without hurting his self-esteem.

A few little girls also hesitated for a long time before pulling out hidden flowers from behind and offering them to Ye Cheng.

"Brother Cheng, I..."

"You’re a good person, but I will not like you," Ye Cheng said bluntly and decisively, shattering a girl’s heart.

Wretched and pitiful, the little girl with the flower—light shining in her eyes a moment ago—suddenly felt the world dim. She couldn’t smile anymore.

"Boo-hoo, waaah..." With a cry, she walked away, mumbling something about not giving up. Ye Cheng thoughtfully added the final blow.

Telling her to forget it.

A small temporary interlude, just a minor scene.

"Wasn’t that a bit too cruel?" the Head Maid said as she steered the scooter, recalling how Ye Cheng had spoken. Refusal was fine, but shouldn’t he have softened it a little?

That was too... direct.

That crying was really sad.

"Cruel? That’s nothing. They’re like toads lusting after swan meat. I’m a big swan—how could they, those little ‘Pokémon,’ eat me?"

Ye Cheng shook his head with a sigh, striking a cold sigma male pose.

The Head Maid: "..."

Sometimes, she couldn’t tell if Ye Cheng was truly heartless or just pretending. But... it didn’t matter. It was fine this way.

"When will we come back next time?"

"Not sure. Depends. I’ve got to go to Uncle Lin’s place to pick up something—he might treat me to a meal too," Ye Cheng recalled.

They had agreed on today. After going back and tidying up, he could still make it in time for another free meal.

"Pick up something? What is it? Need my help?" the Head Maid asked.

"Nah, those things don’t really matter. Just makes things a bit easier."

"I knew it. You’ve always got a backup plan." The Head Maid’s tone was confident, even tinged with a faint pride, because she’d anticipated Ye Cheng’s move.

"Tsk, Xiaxia, I didn’t expect you to be so clever. Looks like you can’t stay!"

The Head Maid: "..."

The two rode the scooter, gradually disappearing into the distance.

About half an hour later, a black BMW pulled up in front of the welfare home. The door clicked open, and an elderly man, around sixty with a very kind face, stepped out.

This was Director Chen, the one Ye Cheng had mentioned.

He wasn’t the villain the Head Maid had imagined. On the contrary, he was highly deceptive—very friendly, with a constant faint smile on his lips.

But that was only on the side bathed in sunlight. On the other half, where the sun couldn’t reach, his face instantly chilled—no warmth, no kindness.

Instead, he looked fierce, even a little spine-chilling.

Clatter, clatter—he walked hunched into the welfare home, glancing down at the yard.

The yard, cleaned by the cleft-lipped girl that morning, had been covered by a few hours of autumn wind with more dry, withered leaves. It looked a bit messy.

As the sky darkened, the last bit of light on Director Chen’s face vanished completely, leaving only harshness and coldness.

He stepped inside.

"Xiao Chun, it was your turn to sweep the yard today, right?" Director Chen’s face carried a vague, faint smile, but the cleft-lipped girl tensed up.

She nodded quickly.

"Yes, Director. I swept it today."

"There are more leaves outside. Sweep them again later. There’ll be visitors to the welfare home in a few days. If we leave a bad impression on those rich, important folks, life will be harder for the younger siblings..."

The cleft-lipped girl was moved, her eyes even reddening. She nodded vigorously, admitting fault: "Director, I’ll go sweep again!"

A combination of collective honor and moral blackmail—these were tactics the simple-minded children in the welfare home were no match for.

No second move was needed; he had them in the palm of his hand.

He’d been doing this for years. At first, it seemed like a tough gig, but unexpectedly, the perks were decent.

A pity that, due to past crackdowns, he had to put some business aside for now. Taking the long, steady route wasn’t a bad choice either—like tapping into... the kindness of the rich.

Free things are always the most expensive. There’s never any goodwill without a reason.

In his view, the rich people’s charity was just for reputation and some peace of mind—a fair exchange of needs.

That’s how society worked. It wasn’t about who worked harder but who cried louder got the milk.

There used to be many welfare homes around, but over the years, they’d shut down one by one due to operational issues.

The people inside were reassigned somewhere else—just a change of scene. Born as society’s waste, they were the same everywhere.

Compared to other jobs, looking after these troubled kids was a breeze. You got social prestige, cash—face and fortune.

What more could he ask for?

Maybe just a little regret that he couldn’t squeeze them harder. Good enough.

The cleft-lipped girl brought out cleaning tools from inside the welfare home. In the dark, she prepared to sweep the yard again, but as she passed by, she suddenly remembered something and called out to Director Chen.

"Director, Brother Cheng came back today."

At the mention of Ye Cheng’s name, Director Chen instinctively furrowed his brows. A flicker of imperceptible emotion passed by, unnoticed by the cleft-lipped girl standing before him.

"So Xiao Cheng is back? Why didn’t he call ahead or something?" Director Chen put on a thoroughly hypocritical smile, but the girl in front of him couldn’t see through it.

She simply took it as genuine concern for Ye Cheng.

"Director, Brother Cheng asked me to give you this. He said he’ll bring some people to see you in a few days," the cleft-lipped girl said, pulling out the envelope Ye Cheng had left with her earlier and handing it to the director.

Director Chen took the envelope and examined it closely under the light.

"Dear old bastard, by the time you read this letter, you should know your daddy has already been back once. Wash up nice and clean—your daddy will be sending you off soon."

P.S. — Your daddy.

Director Chen: "..."

Though he had expected Ye Cheng wouldn’t say anything nice, being called out so bluntly to his face was a first. Ye Cheng used to be at least a little tactful. Now he didn’t even bother pretending anymore. Did he really think his wings were that strong?

Then again, that kid’s wings had never been weak to begin with.

After all these years in his shady business, the one person he’d ever encountered who was truly troublesome was undoubtedly Ye Cheng. The boy had matured early—early enough to witness plenty of the dark side within the welfare home.

Both of them saw right through each other. Over the years, Director Chen had never let his guard down around Ye Cheng, covering his tracks with airtight precision, cautious to a fault.

Both seemed to understand that maintaining the current balance was the best course of action. Until either found a proper way to break the stalemate, neither should make a reckless move—or no one would come out well.

A lose-lose situation didn’t benefit either of them.

Director Chen needed to keep up the pitiful image of the welfare home, collecting charitable donations from wealthy members of society, siphoning off money, and using less than a tenth of it just to keep the children there barely alive.

As for the sick... well, they could have a nice funeral when their time came, or at least burn up whatever value they had left before they died.

Not everyone was as lucky as Lin Baizhi...

"Stubborn fool." Director Chen’s face darkened. He had a feeling that Ye Cheng was almost ready to deliver a harsh blow.

"If I go down, what’ll happen to those so-called brothers and sisters of yours, huh?" Director Chen sneered coldly.

Ye Cheng wasn’t the type to be heartless or ruthless—otherwise, he wouldn’t have been sending substantial sums of money to the welfare home all these years. The amounts were considerable, and Director Chen had tried to trace their source, only to find it all very complicated but legit.

Cautious as ever, Ye Cheng had funneled the money through him, which meant it couldn’t simply be pocketed—it had to be laundered a little.

No ordinary means would be able to trace it!

Director Chen didn’t believe Ye Cheng could have that much power. Try to outmaneuver him? Hmph.

Even if all that failed, he had one final card: the problem children in the welfare home all saw him as their pillar and closest confidant. They had no brains.

They didn’t need intelligence either. A little simple guidance, and they’d easily be steered toward his end goal...

Director Chen put the envelope away and headed toward his office. With a click, as he pressed down on the door handle, he froze—his hand touched something sticky.

A wad of... chewed gum?

Director Chen: "..."