Xia Yu had initially dismissed Chen Liang's audacious defiance as mere melodramatic bravado. Whirling with sardonic derision, she prepared to eviscerate his pretentious façade. Yet her contempt ossified mid-pivot – a silhouette materialised from the penumbral depths like an unsheathed stiletto. Zhao Wan'er's alabaster neck arched with swan-like elegance, her aristocratic bearing radiating an ethereal luminescence that eclipsed Xia Yu's celebrated brilliance.
*Could this celestial enchantress truly debase herself by consorting with such mongrel filth?*
The revelation struck with crystalline clarity as Zhao Wan'er's voice cleaved the atmosphere – honeyed arsenic dripping from her lips: *"Darling, have I misapprehended... our nocturnal *assignations?*"* Her smile congealed into glacial perfection as lunar-pale digits anchored possessively around Chen Liang's torso.
Chen Liang writhed like a speared marlin, desperation pooling in his ocular depths as his gaze implored Xia Yu's comprehension. *"Dearest, your auricles betray you – this strumpet never-"*
His protestation drowned in Xia Yu's sudden corporealisation. She coalesced against his bicep, her cheek adhering to his deltoid with saccharine malice. *"How lamentable we were negotiating terms of servitude."*
Zhao Wan'er's irises frosted over. Having spurned coronet-bearing paramours for this gutter-born reprobate, only to witness his perfidy... *"I came to negotiate with your matriarch,"* she hissed, syllables fracturing like vitrified mercury. *"Manifestly, an exercise in futility."*
The inaugural snowflake of winter detonated against the flagstones. Chen Liang strained against her tenacious grasp. Xia Yu adhered like calcified crustaceans. *"Acquiesce to Young Master Meng's proposal,"* she crooned, exhalation a venom-sweet zephyr caressing his jugular, "or become my marionette."*
*"In perpetuum!"* He ruptured free with Promethean force – precisely as Zhao Wan'er's lacquered carriage dissolved into the metropolis' throbbing vasculature.
Express Gratitude to Mr Chen Immediately
Having just ended the call with Tang Mengru, Chen Liang hesitated at the threshold of his father's hospital room. The older man's suicide attempt—partly spurred by Tang's psychological manipulation, partly by his own son's distrust—hung between them like an unspoken indictment. Unwilling to agitate his father, who had only just emerged from critical condition, Chen had taken the conversation outdoors.
"Mr Chen! A moment, please!"
Turning, he found Dr He Feng, accompanied by an entourage of white-coated residents. Chen's pulse quickened. "Is my father's condition—"
"Stable," the silver-haired physician assured, waving away his medical entourage with an apologetic smile. "This concerns other matters."
They gravitated toward the ER's designated smoking zone. Chen extended a Red Plum cigarette, which He Feng declined with a rueful chuckle. "These battle-scarred lungs surrendered to tobacco decades ago."
As the flame kissed Chen's cigarette, the doctor's gaze turned surgical. "Your diagnostic intuition intrigues me. This morning's impalement case—what prompted your intervention against abdominal palpation?" His voice lowered. "And your father's concealed pneumothorax... How did you detect lung perforation without imaging?"
Chen's cigarette froze mid-drag. The truth—those phantom X-ray visions since the jade pendant incident—defied medical explanation. "Educated guesses," he deflected, grinding the cigarette butt with unnecessary force. "Blood-streaked cough suggested thoracic trauma. Today's patient... I simply aimed to prevent further harm."
He Feng's scrutiny intensified, CT-scan eyes missing nothing. Before the interrogation could continue, the physician barked, "Zhou Wei! Approach!"
The bespectacled resident shuffled forward, resentment simmering behind thick lenses. "Apologise to Mr Chen," He Feng commanded.
"Why should I thank this charla—" The protest died beneath his mentor's glare. Through clenched teeth, Zhou spat gratitude. Chen was already retreating toward his father's sanctuary when He Feng's murmur halted him: "Investigate his credentials. That's no ordinary high school dropout."
---
Dawn found Chen Liang navigating Junyue Mansion's jade market labyrinth. Meng Chen's goons shadowed every stall with predatory glee, intercepting bids through intimidation. By closing hour, three million yuan lay untouched in Chen's accounts—a financial stalemate.
"Still time to join my syndicate," Meng purred, relishing Chen's frustration. The gangster's grin widened as Xia Yu materialised, her clinging presence amplifying Chen's migraine.
Elsewhere, in a storage room reeking of stale liquor, Tang Mengru's swollen face glowed beneath a naked bulb. Her latest plea to Chen had met with icy rejection. Across from her, a thug twirled a butterfly knife as Zhang Minghao's silhouette filled the doorway. "Let them savor dog troughs," the crime lord smirked. "Blood ties demand proper... hospitality."
The Provocateur
Zhao Wan'er awoke to cavernous silence in the vacant residence. Rap-a-tap-tapping on her parents' chamber door, she issued frantic calls that echoed through deserted corridors. The congealed remnants of last night's uneaten supper confirmed her growing dread. Thirty-seven unanswered calls later—their phones now ominously disconnected—she found herself dialling the estranged husband she'd sworn never to contact again. "Chen Liang! Cease your damned gaming and—" The words died as she burst into his study, confronting layers of undisturbed dust on dormant electronics. Four days. Four days since their explosive confrontation had driven him from their marital battlefield.
Her trembling fingers struggled to recall the deleted number through tear-blurred vision—this man who'd once been her storm anchor. Pride and desperation warred until her mother's strangled plea severed all hesitation: "Wan'er! Make that scoundrel return the funds, or they'll sl*t my throat!" The line dissolved into digital purgatory.
At Junyue Mansion's Jade Hall, dawn's first light found connoisseurs circling prime jadeite roughs like vultures anticipating carrion. Chen Liang moved with pantherine grace between veteran dealer Zhao and appraiser Ma Lao, his ocular implants activating spectral vision that exposed two geological marvels:
1. A melon-sized specimen radiating imperial green luminescence (Reserve: ¥1.5M)
2. Its smaller sibling stone pulsates with icy translucence (Reserve: ¥1M)
"Astute selections," Zhao murmured approvingly. "Burmese Mogok lineage—higher yield coefficient than standard pits." Ma Lao's wrinkled visage cracked into admiration: "This young master's discernment shames our jade appraisal guild."
Their discourse fractured as seismic tension erupted across the hall. Meng Chen—the Meng conglomerate's viper-tongued heir—conducted his stone examination with surgical precision, trailed by his discarded paramour, Xia Yu. "Master Meng," she simpered, "allow me to negotiate terms with Chen Liang—"
Collision became inevitable. "Pathological nuisance," Chen growled as auction chimes reverberated. Meng's lips curled into venomous amusement: "How quaint—a pauper presuming to bid here. I shall relish watching your humiliation unfold."
The digital auction screen ignited with emerald numerals as jadeite tension outshone any geological formation, human rivalries crystallising harder than any gemstone crust.
Slinging Mud
Meng Chen's icy glare locked onto Chen Liang, his voice dripping with menace. "Did you just call me a *sh*t-stirring rod*?" The audacity of the insult left him momentarily speechless—no one had ever dared to provoke him so brazenly.
Chen Liang met his gaze unflinchingly. "First time for everything," he retorted, his tone laced with defiance. After two days of being blocked by Meng Chen and Xia Yu from purchasing raw jadeite stones, his patience had evaporated.
Meng Chen's lips curled into a sneer. "You'll regret this," he hissed as the auctioneer began the proceedings.
When Lot No. 13—a jadeite rough marked earlier by Chen Liang—was announced with a starting bid of 1.5 million yuan, the room stirred. Increments crept upward until Chen Liang raised his paddle at 1.8 million. Meng Chen countered instantly: "1.81 million… *and 100 yuan*." The crowd frowned at the pettiness, but his entourage erupted in jeering applause.
Chen Liang gritted his teeth. "1.85 million!"
"1.85 million… *plus 100*," Meng Chen drawled, his smirk widening. By the time bids climbed to 2 million, Meng Chen secured the lot with a mere 100-yuan overbid, his triumph palpable.
As Chen Liang targeted another stone, the harassment continued. Even when Zhao offered financial aid, Chen Liang declined, his frustration simmering.
Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the tension: "My wallet's gone! Which *b*st*rd* stole it?" A hulking man stormed through the crowd, fury radiating like heat.
Mo Siyu, the poised eldest daughter of the auction's hosting family, intervened with calm authority. "Seal the exits. Review the surveillance," she commanded. Guards scrambled, but the thief vanished—the crime had unfolded in a camera blind spot.
Under Mo Siyu's direction, the accuser pointed accusingly at Chen Liang and others. Guards demanded they empty their pockets. Chen Liang complied, revealing only a phone, keys, and a bank card.
"No wallet? Impossible!" A guard barked.
A voice from the crowd—Meng Chen's lackey—taunted, "He's hiding it! *Search him!*"
Chen Liang shot Meng Chen a withering glare. * Is this coward resorting to framing me?
As guards closed in, Chen Liang shut his eyes. A cold, spectral voice resonated in his mind:
***"Avarosa guides you."***
Escorted to the Police Station
Witnessing Chen Liang's unyielding silence and closed eyes, Mo Siyu's brows knitted more tightly.
"Sir, I must apologise for this intrusion, but I must insist on your compliance," she stated with glacial formality.
"Miss Mo, I shall stand as guarantor for Xiao Chen's integrity," interposed Elder Ma, his voice weighted with conviction. Having observed Chen Liang's indifference to vast wealth during prior disputes, his trust remained unshakeable.
"Ha! His accomplice vouching for a thief!" jeered one of Meng Chen's lackeys.
The air thickened as Elder Ma and Shopkeeper Zhao fixed the accuser with scorching glares. Unexpectedly, Meng Chen himself broke the tension: "Miss Mo, I attest he committed no theft. He remained within my surveillance throughout."
His retinue—Xia Yu among them—gaped incredulously. Though locked in rivalry with Chen Liang, Meng Chen's aristocratic pride disdained underhanded schemes; triumph held value only when earned through honourable contest.
"Testimony notwithstanding, material evidence remains requisite," Mo Siyu countered dispassionately.
Chen Liang's eyelids finally lifted, his gaze methodically sweeping the assembly. Bypassing Mo Siyu entirely, he scrutinised Meng Chen's entourage until pinpointing a youth in a black cap and torn jeans attempting invisibility.
"*That one*," he pronounced. "Inspect him, and the pilfered item shall manifest."
At Mo Siyu's nod, guards advanced. The accused blanched but blustered, "This is calumny! I'll see you in court!"
"Search both parties," Mo Siyu commanded.
Chen Liang submitted with monastic calm while the youth thrashed until guards extracted *two billfolds* from his person—one matching the burly victim's description.
Meng Chen's countenance darkened to stormcloud hues. "Deliver this wretch to the authorities," he decreed, severing ties with the disgraced follower.
Mo Siyu then addressed the crowd with contrite dignity, distributing compensatory VIP privileges. To the wrongly accused—Chen Liang included—she proffered gilded cards engraved with the Mo crest: "Present these for any boon within our house's power."
Yet Chen Liang declined with a smile of detached amusement. "I have no use for such trifles."
The chamber stilled, breath suspended in crystalline silence.
That Man...
The assembly stood perplexed. Even Mr Zhao and Meng Chen cast penetrating glances at Chen Liang, their expressions suggesting he might not fathom the alchemical significance of this gilt-edged business card.
Old Ma urgently gestured at Chen Liang's sleeve, his weathered face etched with solemnity as he mimed the universal symbol for immediate acceptance. Others clutching compensation cards treated these talismans as sacred relics, reverently storing them against their hearts. The Mo family's golden warrants—capable of materialising any desire short of treason against clan interests—were legendary objects of cutthroat competition among elites.
Yet, Chen Liang remained unmoved.
Mo Siyu's phoenix eyes narrowed with imperial curiosity. "Do you comprehend the gravity of what you're rejecting?"
"I require no alms," Chen Liang countered, his shoulders lifting in defiance. "What I desire, I shall claim through my own merits."
Her crimson lips curved like a duelling sabre. "Ambitious schemers would slaughter kin for this parchment," she hissed. "Yet you let it slip through peasant fingers?" The card materialised in his palm despite his protests as she swept away in silken fury.
The auction resurrected with the colossal jadeite monolith as the final offering. The opening bid of 45 million yuan draped the hall in sepulchral silence. Five years of consecrated failures haunted the air. Mr Zhao's paddle trembled at 45 million, beads of anxiety glistening on his brow. Meng Chen's counterstrike ignited a financial duel that escalated to 55 million.
"This stone merits destiny's gamble," Chen Liang murmured, proffering his life savings. The hammer fell at 58 million to Mr Zhao's consortium.
Meng Chen approached with viperine grace: "Congratulations, dilettantes. Did you fancy I coveted this overpriced jewellery?" His laughter dripped arsenic sweetness. "This theatrical performance serves solely as Meng Corporation's promotional spectacle. I shall send funeral wreaths to your bankruptcy proceedings."
As the assembly gathered for the stone-cutting ritual, Chen Liang activated his clairvoyant vision. Beneath the stony epidermis pulsed a heart of blood – imperial-grade "pigeon's blood" jadeite worth kingdoms' ransom. His chalk sigils across the boulder drew scornful chuckles from the uninitiated.
Meng Chen's poison-drenched whisper froze mid-sentence as the blade's first kiss revealed crimson radiance – a sunrise captured in mineral form that struck the hall dumb.
The Jade Gambit
Boss Zhao's weathered hands convulsed above the monolithic nephrite monolith, four decades of lapidary mastery warring with existential trepidation. This mineral leviathan symbolised corporate survival – one errant incision might reduce both geological marvel and financial empire to crystalline debris. Chen Liang's chalked guidelines defied conventional gemological wisdom, tracing fracture planes no seasoned stonecutter would dare contemplate.
"Instinct?" Meng Chen's derisive snort cleaved through the murmuring consortium. Arms folded in predatory repose, he observed like a carrion bird awaiting financial ruin. The audacity! To stake a 58-million-yuan titan upon mere visceral conviction? Yet beneath his glacial contempt coiled visceral disquiet – this interloper's certitude burnt too incandescently for mere bravado.
Mo Siyu's vermilion-lacquered nails tapped staccato rhythms against silk-clad forearms. Her clan's rejected, gilt-edged invitation lay discarded as she leaned forward, breath catching. "Who *are* you?" she exhaled, her forensic gaze cataloguing every microexpression across Chen Liang's impassive countenance.
The diamond saw's banshee wail sundered the exhibition hall. Two excruciating hours later, a seismic gasp rippled through the assembly.
"Haemoglobin jade!"
"Rubellite-grade translucence!"
"Profit margins quadrupled!"
Boss Zhao's knees buckled as carmine infernos blazed beneath halogen constellations. Yet, Chen Liang's hand remained uplifted in symphonic command. "Proceed."
When the final incision revealed the core's pulsating vermilion nucleus, collective respiration ceased. Imperial-grade rubies dulled before this captured mineral conflagration. Auction appraisals dissolved – this became less a commodity than a coronation ceremony.
"Three hundred million." Meng Chen's declaration fractured the silence like shattering crystal, mercantile calculus overriding personal vendetta. Let the fool spurn familial patronage – this phoenix stone would anoint Meng Enterprises as luxury's new sovereign. Contracts materialised; signatures bled ink like ritual sacrifice.
As the throng surged toward the alchemical victors, a dishevelled figure breached security cordons – Zhao Wan'er, tear-striated countenance trembling. "They've seized them!" she gasped, clutching Chen Liang's sleeve. "The usurers..."
The jade's incarnadine luminescence dimmed as the shadows elongated.
A Noble Hound Blocks Not the Path
Zhao Wan'er wept like rain-soaked pear blossoms, crystalline tears streaming down her alabaster cheeks, her anguish piercing Chen Liang's soul. His calloused palm cradled her porcelain visage, tenderly brushing away the rivulets of despair.
"Compose thy spirit," he murmured with velvet resolve, "Unburden your sorrows—your steadfast companion awaits."
Her tremulous voice emerged between shuddering breaths: "Chen Liang... My parents vanished yestereve. They—"
A tempestuous figure materialised before them, wrath incarnate.
"Chen Liang!"
Xia Yu's countenance blazed like Tartarus unleashed. Chen Liang's brow furrowed like ancient parchment. "Must thou eternally orchestrate pandemonium? Remove these histrionics from our presence."
Her talon-like grip anchored his arm. "Heed Meng Chen's summons, lest celestial fury deny us both respite!" Her eyes mirrored the desperation of Fortune's jilted paramour – earlier, she'd pursued Meng's retreating chariot only to choke on acrid vapours.
Zhao Wan'er's nascent gratitude curdled into hoarfrost. "What mummery is this? My parents teeter upon mortality's precipice, yet you dally with this... harpy?"
"Attend my words—"
"Peace! First, account for my parents' mortal peril!"
Her voice fractured like flawed jade. "Mother vowed they'll be bludgeoned ere dawn breaks should debts remain unsettled!"
Chen Liang's jawline hardened like forged steel. Memories resurged – their endless fiscal demands, their desertion during his father's mortal decline. "Tis but another stratagem. The transfer concludes with tomorrow's sun."
Nearby, jeweller Zhao – indebted to Chen for the thirty-million ruby windfall – moved to intercede, staying by Elder Ma's imperceptible censure.
As tensions crescendoed, an ethereal presence emerged from Junyue Mansion's threshold. Mo Siyu's arctic gaze swept the tableau. "Require intervention? That token I bestowed could... dissolve irritants." Her eyes glazed Xia Yu with winter's first rime.
Xia Yu blanched yet pressed her gambit, hissing with viperine resolve: "Defy me, and your consort shall learn you hoard fortunes whilst her progenitors bleed!"
The confrontation peaked as Zhao Bao'er – Wan'er's incendiary sibling – materialised like Bellona unleashed. "What stray hellhound bays at our gates?" she spat, hands anchoring defiant hips. "Avaunt, mange-ridden cur! A noble hound knows better than to block the path!"
I Want Chen Liang to Kneel and Beg for Mercy!
Chen Liang's heart surged with triumph as those words echoed, his thumb rising in instinctive admiration. His sister-in-law had truly earned her epithet as the "celestial instigator"—a title forged through years of impeccably timed interventions.
Xia Yu, steeped in the polished decorum of elite circles, recoiled as though physically lashed by the epithets "harlot" and "mongrel". *The audacity!* she seethed, her porcelain features tightening. "I shall record whatever I deem fit," she hissed, her fist arcing toward the door once more. But before impact, Chen Liang wrenched it open, his countenance a tempest of ire.
She lunged for his arm, but he sidestepped with feline grace. Zhao Bao'er observed from the shadows, her lips curling like a disdainful muse. "If you insist on poaching another's consort," she drawled, "at least select a man of consequence. You parade as one of refinement—why debase yourself over this indolent wretch who can scarcely sustain his existence? Were I you, I'd set my sights on a hoary magnate three decades your senior. The spoils would prove infinitely more gratifying."
Xia Yu's complexion deepened to the hue of crushed mulberries, her trembling finger jabbing toward Zhao Bao'er as though conducting a cursed symphony. Chen Liang's jawline sharpened, a tendon flickering beneath his skin. *This girl wields words like Damascus steel,* he mused. *She flays souls with syllables.
Zhao Bao'er shouldered past, brandishing her broom like a sceptre. "Cease defiling our threshold. Should you require guidance in procuring gilded paramours, I'll gladly curate a registry of octogenarian benefactors—pro bono, of course."
Xia Yu retreated not solely from the verbal barbs. The broom's ominous whistle as Zhao Bao'er swept it through the air proved the final affront.
Chen Liang marvelled at his sister-in-law's audacity, but her glacial glare stifled any praise. "I cannot fathom how that painted jade developed such execrable taste," she spat. "What conceivable allure could a man of your ilk possess?"
The rebuke, though venomous, felt tempered—a mercy likely born from the wardrobe of Milanese silks Chen Liang had recently bestowed upon her.
...
In the sepulchral gloom of a bar's storage chamber, Tang Mengru glared at her mute phone, its unblinking screen a taunt.
"Still silence?" The man opposite sneered, his steel-toed boot tapping a funereal rhythm.
Tang Mengru forced a saccharine simper, her voice quavering. "He... he must be detained by urgent affairs."
The man crooked a finger—a gesture preceding calamity. Tang Mengru shrieked, crumpling against her husband, who trembled like a sapling in a typhoon.
A henchman returned, bearing a chipped porcelain dish, its surface crusted with congealed rice scraps. Tang Mengru fell upon it, devouring the meagre offering in two feral bites. The vessel gleamed cleaner than if scoured, leaving her spouse to swallow dryly beside her.
For two days, they had subsisted on such dregs—their pride corroded by gnawing hunger.
"Today concludes our leniency," the man intoned, his voice a shard of glacial iron. "Should the funds not materialise by dawn, we commence severing digits—one per diem until the debt is absolved."
The ultimatum struck like a physical blow. They redialled Chen Liang's number until their fingers ached, met only by the electronic dirge of disconnection.
...
Meanwhile, Chen Liang powered on his computer, his jaw hardening at another missed call from his mother-in-law. *No more theatrics,* he resolved, silencing the device.
Logging into his gaming portal, he found the anticipated rejection from his former team. *Inevitable,* he thought bitterly. *Abandoning a match mid-clash and vanishing for days—only fools would welcome me.
Too spent for pretence, he shut down the machine and surrendered to the mattress. After nights of vigil at the hospital, sleep claimed him like a conquering force, dragging him into oblivion.
Dawn found him preparing congee for Zhao Wan'er. A glance at his banking app froze his breath. The balance glared back: **6,660,000 yuan.
Zhao Laoban's "red envelope" had transcended expectations. *Who questions providence?* He mused, though disquiet lingered.
Zhao Wan'er, frantic for her parents' safety, assailed him with questions upon waking. Assured of the transfer, she abandoned work to await their return. But as twilight bled into night with no word, panic tinged her voice.
As her trembling hand reached for the police hotline, Chen Liang's phone shrilled. She seized it. "Mother! The funds—"
A gravelly voice severed her plea. "Put Chen Liang on."
Frowning, he accepted the device. "Speak."
"Present yourself at South City Bar—unaccompanied," the voice growled. "Retrieve the senile fools."
The line died. Chen Liang's blood chilled—for
Once, his mother-in-law's tale held truth.
Zhao Wan'er insisted on joining, but he pressed a kiss to her brow. "Stay. This is mine to resolve." He vanished into the night.
...
First light filtered through the storage room's grime-veiled window as a colossus entered, balancing soybean milk and fried dough on a dog's dish.
Tang Mengru, deranged by nights of rodent-infested terrors, staggered toward the feast. Her husband salivated but dared not stir—years of submission had etched caution into his bones.
The man's stiletto glinted in the pallid glow. "Dine," he commanded, his smile a gash of malice.
"I... I cannot," she whimpered, voice fraying.
"Dine. Now."
He dragged her to the tray. Tang Mengru understood—this was the last supper before mutilation. She collapsed, sobs wracking her frame. "Mercy..."
"Mercy was never part of the covenant," the man hissed, twirling the blade. He forced the scalding milk down her gullet, then crammed dough into her maw until her cheeks bulged like a starved squirrel's.
As she gagged on the final morsel, he slammed the dagger onto the table and pinned her hand beneath it. Tang Mengru's breath stilled, her vision tunnelling.
The blade hovered a micron from her finger—when her phone chimed with a payment alert.
"AHHHHH!" she howled, eyes screwed shut. But agony never came. Peering through tears, she saw the man scrutinising his phone, the blade still poised.
Relief flooded her veins. *Alive.
The couple clung like shipwreck survivors, salt tracks etching their haggard faces.
"Chen Liang," Tang Mengru seethed inwardly, gratitude evaporating. * The wretch delayed! My finger nearly forfeited!
The door burst open. Tang Mengru gaped. "Minghao? What sorcery brings you here?"
She remained ignorant that Zhang Minghao—the man she'd fondly deemed "nephew"—had orchestrated this purgatory. His head swaddled in linen bandages, face a mosaic of bruises, speech slurred by split lips.
He wheeled on the henchmen, fury incarnate. "What savagery is this?" he roared, kicking the fouled dish. "This swill befits barnyard swine, not honoured guests!"
The men stood mute. Zhang Minghao helped Tang Mengru upright, affecting solicitude. "I am mortified," he lied silkily. "My father assumed the debt's reins—I knew naught of these brutalities. Had I been informed—"
Moved by his theatrics, Tang Mengru clasped his hand. "The fault lies not with you, Minghao. Debts demand settlement."
"Unconscionable," he declared, storming toward the exit. "I shall rectify this disgrace."
"Wait!" she wailed. "Free us first—"
The door thundered shut, muffling her cries. Beyond it, a henchman smirked at Zhang Minghao. "Satisfied, Boss Zhang?"
Zhang Minghao lit a cigarette, eyes glacial. "Adequately staged."
"Release them now?"
"Release?" Zhang Minghao scoffed, jabbing his bandaged skull. "After they reduced me to this carcass? Not until Chen Liang grovels at my feet—until he endures a hundredfold my suffering. Only then is the debt discharged."
The henchman's grin widened, feral and foreboding. "Consider it ordained."
Cease!
Zhang Minghao had meticulously orchestrated this grand spectacle with a singular intent – to compel Chen Liang into grovelling submission. *Only then* would he reciprocate the humiliation tenfold through exquisite retribution.
Yet, Chen Liang remained an immovable monolith, his glacial composure intensifying Zhang's fury. The calmer his adversary appeared, the deeper Zhang's countenance darkened, eyes blazing like smouldering coals.
"Only fools reject ceremonial wine to drink punishment," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Comply, and I may temper your suffering. Resist..." His lips contorted into predatory anticipation.
At his signal, the muscular sentinels encircling the chamber tensed – Wu Tian's personally selected enforcers, battle-hardened warriors who'd forged their reputations in bloodshed. Their collective menace thickened the air, challenging even Chen Liang's iron resolve.
*One miscalculation*, he calculated, *and I unleash the arsenal.*
"Kneel?" Chen Liang's derisive chuckle echoed. "Impossible. If this constitutes your entire repertoire, conserve your theatrics."
The crystal tumbler shattered against the marble as Zhang advanced, exhaling cigar smoke into his opponent's face. "Open your wretched eyes! Do you comprehend your predicament? Defiance guarantees your maimed departure from this chamber."
Before completion, an arctic gaze pierced his spine. Zhang stiffened mid-stratagem, wheeling to face Dao Ba – the inadvertently insulted patriarch. His obsequious bow and placating smile met only contemptuous silence as Dao Ba accepted ceremonial wine from his consort.
*This disgrace stems from Chen Liang's existence.* Zhang wheeled back, trembling with suppressed rage. "You fancy yourself indomitable? Let us test that conviction." His finger became an executioner's axe. "Break him! Leave enough room for regret!"
The human tsunami surged until one figure remained seated beside Dao Ba. Xia Shanhu ("Descending Tiger") rose with tectonic slowness, his black muscle shirt straining against corded flesh. The snarling tiger tattoo across his pectorals seemed to pulse with primal energy.
At sixteen, Xia had cemented his infamy by crippling twelve martial artists single-handedly. Even seasoned enforcers whispered his name with trepidation.
As he advanced, the crowd parted like Red Sea waves. Chen Liang's eyes narrowed as crystalline clarity flooded his consciousness:
**Skill conversion complete. *Alpha Strike* assimilated from Wuju Master Yi.
**Effect 1: Sword Dao Mastery attained.
**Effect 2: Supreme Sword Qi manifested.
**Limitation: Single activation. Hero/skill duplication is prohibited until current mastery peaks.
Palms tingled as decades of bladework etched themselves into muscle memory. His heightened awareness mapped every potential weapon – crystal shards, table edges, even the molecular structure of air itself.
Xia's fist became a meteor aimed at Chen Liang's temple. Zhang's lips curled in anticipatory delight, already savoring the carnage.
Chen Liang's evasion was interrupted by human barricades shoving him into the kill zone. Trapped, his fingers coalesced into blade form, thrusting towards Xia's advancing calf.
Suspended animation gripped the room.
Xia's combat boot hovered mid-destruction, crimson trickling from shin to floor. Chen Liang's fingertips shimmered with ten centimetres of spectral energy – the manifestation of pure Sword Qi.
Zhang's wine sprayed across the marble as Dao Ba lurched forward, recognition draining his complexion.
Xia staggered back, fingers probing his wound. The tiger's eyes now mirrored prey animal panic. Chen Liang mirrored Xia's earlier provocation – inverted thumb dragging across the throat.
Tension crystallised into violence.
Xia's roar shook chandeliers as he brandished cold-forged steel. The crowd's bloodthirsty grins widened, anticipating finality – until Dao Ba's thunderous command fractured reality:
**"CEASE!!!"**
Silence descended like an executioner's blade. Dao Ba stood tremor-stricken, his trembling finger extended towards Chen Liang. The wine-bearing consort froze mid-pour, ruby droplets suspended in air.
"Do you... comprehend... whom you confront?" Dao Ba's whisper carried seismic weight.
Xia's weapon clattered against a stone. Zhang's sneer transformed into a rictus of dread.
Chen Liang's inscrutable gaze locked with Dao Ba's as the revelation detonated:
**"That's the architect of my crippling."**
Gravitational forces seemed to invert. Zhang's circulatory system flash-froze.
Xia's combat stance dissolved into a defensive crouch.
In the aftermath's hush, Chen Liang's faint smile contained multitudes – the silent language of apex predators.
Hold On, Did I Say You Could Leave?
"Pulverize him thoroughly—I'll supplement the bounty with an additional twenty grand!" Zhang Minghao's volcanic temper erupted. While maintaining decorum before elders, this lawless arena permitted no such restraint. Chen Liang's unbroken posture amidst the carnage became an intolerable provocation.
His glare shifted between Dao Ba and the suspended violence. *Why halt the onslaught?* He seethed internally. *With this battalion of enforcers, does a superfluous son-in-law warrant caution?* Misapprehending the command, he jeered at Chen Liang, "Hearken! Brother Dao Ba decrees your cessation!"
A textbook exhibition of borrowed authority—were they solitary on these streets, Zhang wouldn't dare meet Chen's gaze, let alone issue challenges.
Xia Shanhu's steel pipe froze mid-arc, his combat-heaving torso mirroring the room's suspended animation. The enforcer's scarred visage turned interrogatively toward Dao Ba. Bound by Wu Tian's hierarchy yet humiliated before subordinates, his knuckles whitened around the weapon's grip.
Chen Liang's brow arched in sardonic amusement. "Brother Dao Ba?" His gaze traversed to the sofa's concealed occupant. Their eyes collided—Dao Ba's pupils constricted with visceral terror, carotid pounding like war drums. Memories of their last encounter resurfaced—four limbs rendered useless through Chen's artistry. Tonight's repetition might conclude with an organ donation.
Zhang, oblivious to historical context, pressed his advantage: "Fret not, Brother Dao Ba. This insignificant—" He corrected hastily, "This Chen Liang cannot withstand Tiger's prowess. He'll be prostrate within moments."
Xia Shanhu nodded, arterial fury coloring his words: "A temporary lapse. Thirty seconds shall see him licking boot soles."
Dao Ba's reptilian glare measured the enforcer—insubordination toward Wu Tian's lieutenant carried mortal consequences—yet his wrath detonated upon Zhang. "Filthy maggot!" he spat, saliva christening the younger man's designer shirt. "Administer self-flagellation!"
The crack of palm meeting cheek resounded like pistol fire, Zhang's left cheek inflating grotesquely. "Brother Dao Ba? I commissioned you to discipline him, not me!" he wailed, cradling his disfigured face.
"Vermin? By what celestial mandate do you denigrate Brother Liang?" Dao Ba thundered. "Again!"
The second impact left Zhang's vision starry. Through swimming consciousness, realization dawned—*What arcane connection binds them? Why does Dao Ba tremble as before a monarch?*
The chamber's atmosphere congealed as Dao Ba transformed into obsequiousness incarnate. "Brother Liang, what celestial wind brings you here? Honor us with your presence!" To the paralyzed hostesses: "Vapid creatures! Assist our distinguished guest!"
The women scrambled like startled pheasants, aiding Dao Ba's torturous ascent—a spectacle that froze the enforcers' marrow. The local crime prince groveling? What manner of entity commanded such reverence?
Chen Liang contemplated Dao Ba's wheelchair-bound form. "Recovered adequately?"
"Through your divine mercy, Brother Liang." Dao Ba's smile strained facial scars. "My unpardonable discourtesy, remaining seated. This humble seat awaits you."
Chen Liang appropriated Zhang's former throne, disregarding the seat of honor. Hostesses advanced with painted smiles, retreating like a tide before his glacial gaze.
"Old Hu," Dao Ba addressed Xia Shanhu, "ensure this refuse never pollutes my vision again. Reduce him to a cripple before disposal."
"Understood." The steel pipe found a new purpose, encircling thugs morphing into jackals.
Zhang prostrated before Dao Ba's wheelchair, tears salting Italian loafers: "Clemency, Brother Dao Ba! I'll never—"
"Implore your true creditor."
Rotating toward Chen Liang, Zhang's Adam's apple bobbed in toxic shame: "M-mercy, Brother Liang! Eternal restraint hereafter..." Acidic bile accompanied each syllable—supplicating to his designated "trash" carved his dignity raw.
Dao Ba maintained sepulchral silence, subservience masking volcanic hatred. Even his brother Wu Tian had learned this lesson through broken bones—survival demanded perfect pantomime.
Chen Liang's smile glinted like honed steel. "Stay execution, Dao Ba." At the crime lord's nod, he swirled his cognac contemplatively: "Upon my entry, certain...enthusiastic suggestions were made regarding genuflection. My memory requires refreshing—whose silver tongue proposed this?"
Zhang's fists whitened, ocular vessels engorging. *The b*st*rd demands kneeling!* After swallowing oceans of humiliation, the degradation continued unabated. Selective amnesia erased his earlier sadistic commands.
Hesitation proved costly. Chen sighed theatrically: "Some neophytes spurn magnanimity. Dao Ba, resume your—"
"Wait! I comply!" Zhang's shriek outpaced reason, preferring debasement to Xia Shanhu's tender mercies.
The enforcer's boot piston-kicked his patella, marble meeting bone. Xia Shanhu fisted his hair, cranium meeting floor in unholy communion—*CRUNCH*—concussion colours blooming behind sealed lids.
Through nausea's veil, Zhang glared upward: "Satiated?" He staggered erect, flight instinct overwhelming pride.
Chen Liang's smile acquired predatory dimensions. "Pardon—did my lips articulate dismissal?"
To be continuous…