"Ahh!"
The room erupted in gasps. The men reacted to Ning Buluan's name, while Xu Miaoli's cry was for her son's antics—fighting over his skirt-chasing nonsense, not the first or second time. Despite her doting, she'd never curbed his playboy ways.
"Zhengyang, you're not a kid anymore," she scolded. "Time to find a proper woman. Listen to your mom—stop haunting those pleasure dens. You like Song Yingfei, right? Let Grandfather arrange a betrothal. Settle down and rein it in."
Lei Qiuping chuckled. "Sister-in-law, he's still young. Let him play a few more years. Marriage too soon? No freedom!"
"Nonsense!" she snapped. "A girlfriend means care and support. Zhengyang, this time, you listen to me."
Qiuping smirked but dropped it, shifting gears. "Zhengyang, what do you know about Ning Buluan?"
Zhengyang glanced at his uncles, noting even Grandfather's keen attention. Ning Buluan was a figure none could ignore. "Oh, I know him," he said lightly, a hint of disdain in his tone. "So-called 'Beijing's top fighter,' head instructor for 800,000 troops. Quite the big shot. I'm just not convinced he's that good."
He knew Ning Buluan was a peak master of the era, but the Lins' reliance on his skills for their reckless antics disgusted him. And in raw strength, Ning wasn't even the capital's best—someone outshone him.
Lei Yunbao spoke up, his tone grave. "Zhengyang, beating the Lin boys was impressive, but don't doubt Ning Buluan. He's a true master. Half of Zhongnanhai's elite guards were trained by him. We trust his loyalty to the state, but he's with the Lins now. Be cautious."
"Exactly," Qiuping added. "I've seen him fight—fast, precise, ruthless. Our camp's best didn't last three moves. He's not someone to provoke." Though not one to admit defeat, Qiuping's fondness for Zhengyang prompted the warning.
Feeling their concern, Zhengyang nodded, offering reassurance. "Got it, I'll be careful. But honestly, Ning can't touch me. I hope he makes a move—then I can handle him without giving anyone leverage."
The room froze. Lei Xiaping, usually silent, blurted, "Zhengyang, do you grasp how strong Ning is? Don't boast—this affects the Lei family's plans. No room for error."
Zhengyang stood, unfazed. "I know you don't believe me, but my safety's not a worry. To me, Ning's not the strongest. Above him? The Blade Charm."
"Mom, I'm hitting the shower. Whip up some food—I'm starving." He bolted upstairs.
Xu Miaoli, thrilled, dashed to the kitchen, as if cooking for her son was life's greatest joy. The men, however, sat stunned, especially the stoic Lei Xiaping.
"Father, how does Zhengyang know about the Blade Charm? That's a state secret."
Qiuping, less cleared, knew of the Blade organization but not its enigmatic guardian, the Blade Charm—a mythic, unmatched figure to those in the know. Only Yunbao and Xiaping in the Lei family were privy.
Yunbao mused, "The Charm's done missions in the West—probably not a secret to foreigners. Maybe Zhengyang overheard it." He sounded skeptical, his curiosity about his grandson growing. Glancing at Qiuping, he ordered, "Old Third, have someone tail Zhengyang. Ning likely won't act lightly, but if the Lins press his debts, he might have to help them once. Ensure Zhengyang's safety."
Qiuping's eyes narrowed. Facing Ning Buluan was a headache—many of his guards were Ning's former students, hesitant to strike their mentor. "Understood, Father. I'll handle it."
With Xu Miaoli gone, Lei Chunping spoke. "Father, Zhengyang's different since he came back. His whole demeanor's changed. Beating that Lin madman? Unthinkable. Did he train at some secret camp?"
Xiaping agreed. "Father, we know he wasn't just 'traveling.' Why not make him spill where he's been?"
"I'm curious about his skills," Qiuping grinned slyly. "How about we test him?"
Yunbao nodded. "Don't make him think we distrust him. If he's hiding something, let it be. Testing his skills, though? That's fair—for his safety. Old Third, you're on it."
Qiuping snapped his fingers, grinning. "Don't worry, I won't disappoint. Tomorrow, I'll set a trap and give him a real test—maybe settle a score while I'm at it."
When Zhengyang came down, refreshed, he noticed something odd. His uncles were suddenly chummier, almost fawning, and even his father kept quiet, avoiding his usual nagging. Lei Qiuping, true to form, had already spun a clever web.
Normally, such tests used insiders, but Qiuping wanted authenticity. He anonymously hired a small-time Beijing gang, notorious for chaos, offering two million to "teach someone a lesson"—a hundred thugs to probe Zhengyang's strength. Secretly, he planned to wipe out the gang in the chaos, cleaning the city's underbelly.
Rarely did Third Uncle treat to dinner, especially at a five-star hotel. Zhengyang didn't hold back—Qiuping was generous but stingy with invites. After a lavish meal, trouble hit in the underground parking lot. From all directions, gangsters swarmed, encircling him with menacing intent.
Before he could speak, they attacked. One barked, "Someone paid two million to break your hands, buddy. You're in luck."
Lucky? Zhengyang thought he was the unluckiest guy alive. All this for a meal with Third Uncle? A quick glance counted over a hundred thugs. Since when were Beijing's punks this bold?
But the sight of the mob ignited his dormant killing instinct. A faint smile curved his lips. "Come on, all of you. Let's have a real fight."
In the hellish training camps, he'd endured group beatdowns—first as the punching bag, then as the one dishing it out. This crowd? Perfect to scratch his combat itch.
A machete swung down. Zhengyang's hand shot out, seizing the blade mid-air. A kick sent an attacker from the right crashing into his ally, both collapsing with a scream. Twisting the blade, he bent it and drove it back into the wielder's chest.
Against enemies, Zhengyang showed no mercy.
His ferocity surged, honed in the training camps' crucible. His cold gaze swept the thugs, chilling their hearts. A dozen fell, sprawled silent on the ground, their fates unclear.
Only now did they realize they'd bitten off more than they could chew.
"What, stopping already?" Zhengyang taunted. "Don't be shy—come on, we're just getting started!"
In Lei Yunbao's study, the patriarch and his sons stared at a screen, jaws dropped at Zhengyang's words, utterly speechless.