Lei Zhengyang hadn't expected Xiao Dasheng to show up now. Back in his reckless days, he'd strutted with the Lei family's clout, surrounded by a posse of so-called "buddies" who fawned over him. Xiao Dasheng was one, among his closest cronies. But now, Zhengyang saw the truth: his past swagger was a mirage. Those "friends" never truly cared for him. He'd planned to cut ties and start fresh.
His clash with Lin Zhouwei was seismic—Xiao Dasheng had to know. Showing up now could spell trouble for the Jincheng Xiao family. Xiao wasn't dumb, so why risk it? Did he actually see Zhengyang as a friend? Reflecting, Zhengyang dismissed the thought. Xiao had only ever used him to curry favor with the Leis—nothing personal.
"Well, well, Monkey," Zhengyang said, a playful smirk curling his lips. "What a coincidence. Don't tell me you came just to see me." He was genuinely curious about Xiao's motives.
"Boss, no coincidence!" Xiao replied with a grin. "We heard you were back in Beijing and figured you'd hit Yaochi. So we waited, and bam—here you are." Before Xiao could say more, another figure stepped in: Li Yuanfeng.
Spotting the women, Li raised an eyebrow. "Boss Leng's here too? Guess we worried for nothing. Who'd dare stir trouble with her around?"
Xiao had come, and after wrestling with his doubts, Li followed. His face betrayed none of his inner hesitation.
Leng Youran gave a wry smile. "Li, you flatter me. I'm just a woman, good for pouring tea, not much else." Rising, she added, "Luo Luo, let's go. We shouldn't interrupt Young Master Lei's business."
She saw through their game—using Zhengyang to tap the Lei family's power. It wasn't her concern. Their schemes were none of her business, and she wanted no part in their talk.
Luo Luo hesitated, reluctant to leave, but knew staying would only burden Zhengyang. She squeezed his hand, then softly kissed his cheek. "Brother Lei, I'm going. Remember my promise—I'll never break it."
As the women left, the room fell into an almost oppressive silence.
Zhengyang said nothing, leisurely wiping his mouth. He'd devoured every dish and a bowl of noodles, half-sated. Xiao broke the quiet. "Boss, where've you been this year? No word to your brothers—we were worried."
Zhengyang eyed them, chuckling. "You really think of me as a friend?"
The question was light, casual, but it hit like a hammer. Both men froze, speechless. If, as their elders hinted, Zhengyang had been watching from the sidelines, he'd see through their fake loyalty. Xiao's face flushed, flustered.
Li Yuanfeng, ever the strategist, kept his cool. "Why ask, Boss? Haven't we always been friends?"
Zhengyang nodded. "Sure, friends. Just not the kind who'd take a knife for me—more the type to stick one in my back. So, which are you? Tell Zhang Feng I want to see him. I need to know who put him up to last year's stunt. Bet plenty were laughing at my stupidity behind my back."
A year ago, Zhang Feng had delivered Song Yingfei to him, claiming it was for "brotherhood," to fulfill Zhengyang's desires. Now, Zhengyang knew it was a trap. His forty years of memories pointed to the Southern Yang family as the biggest winners, but he sensed they weren't the masterminds.
"If he won't come, he'd better vanish forever," Zhengyang added, his tone icy. "Or I'll kill him." The room chilled with his killing intent, startling Xiao and Li. This former wastrel now radiated a lethal aura—utterly transformed.
Li studied Zhengyang closely for the first time. From his reappearance in Tianhai, disrupting the Song-Yang alliance, to surviving Yang family assassins, Zhengyang was no longer the fool of old.
"Boss, about before—" Xiao began, but Zhengyang cut him off.
"We'll deal with that later. The Lins aren't your fight. If I'm right, they'll be here soon. Leave now—don't get caught in this." His warning was kind, but it also signaled he no longer saw them as allies.
Xiao knew leaving was the smart move, but pride flared. A man had principles. "Boss, you're underestimating me," he said, face red with resolve. "I'm no coward. Lin or not, as long as you're here, I've got your back."
Li sighed. "Honestly, I'd rather bolt. The Lins scare me—my heart's still racing. But if Monkey's in, how can I back out? I've always thought I'm a notch above him."
"Bullshit, what kinda logic is that?" Xiao snapped.
Zhengyang felt a flicker of warmth. "Your choice. Don't regret it. They're here."
Rapid footsteps approached. A group stormed in, led by a young man with a dark, ferocious face. Spotting Zhengyang, his eyes blazed with fury.
As Zhengyang expected, this was a young blood's fight—no elders would step in. Junior scuffles were games, training grounds. No matter how big, they stayed "small" unless adults got involved. Then, small became massive.
The leader oozed arrogance, barking, "I'm here for Lei Zhengyang. Everyone else, get lost—don't piss me off." He didn't spare Xiao or Li a glance, his haughtiness dwarfing Zhengyang's old swagger.
He had reason to be cocky. Lin Kuang, Lin Zhouwei's cousin and son of the Lin family's third branch, was Beijing's "Madman," the most ferocious of his generation. He didn't reason—he fought. Zhengyang had lost to him multiple times, only taking up martial arts under his third uncle to counter him. In his past life, Zhengyang never surpassed him in combat.
Xiao and Li paled. Lin Kuang was a nightmare—logic meant nothing to him. Right or wrong? Irrelevant. He'd beat you half-dead, then declare the biggest fist ruled. Few young elites dared cross him; old Zhengyang hadn't either.
"Folks say the Lins are mad—I didn't buy it," Li said, voice steady despite his nerves. "Now I do. This guy thinks he's invincible."
Xiao leapt up, bellowing, "Lin Kuang, think you're hot stuff? Come on, let's see whose fists talk louder!"
The room's tension spiked. More noise at the door—dozens of bodyguards poured in, surrounding the police and Lin's crew. These were Xiao and Li's men. Though not Beijing heavyweights, they were still young masters with family-funded muscle. In a pinch, their guards had to act.
Lin Kuang grinned, a wild, unhinged smirk, ignoring the encirclement. "Not bad—someone's got guts. I'll test your weight first, then deal with the Lei trash."
He lived for violence, itching to swing. But Zhengyang's piercing gaze cut through, paired with a cold chuckle. "I beat Lin Zhouwei. Four slaps, two baton strikes—think I broke his hand. What a pathetic loser. No fun at all. Thought the Lins would send someone worth my time. Guess not—just another clueless punk. So, which hand do you want broken?"
His words lit a fuse. Lin Kuang's hair practically stood on end, roaring, "I'll break both your hands!"
To most, Lin Kuang was terrifying—his brutality wasn't the best solution, but it intimidated like nothing else. Few in Beijing's young crowd dared provoke him. The Lins likely figured he was enough to handle Zhengyang, who'd never been a brain trust before.
Kids playing rough, sparring—it was no big deal to the family patriarchs unless lives were lost. A few bruises? Just growing pains.