Volume One, Chapter 36: No Wonder She Was Born with Such an Alluring Physique

"Damn it, at a time like this, you're still putting on airs?"

The burly man spat a glob of thick phlegm onto the ground and pointed his menacing machete at the nose of Yan Fengjia, the fourth son of the Yan family, who was sitting on the sofa.

"The last time, I was careless; otherwise, how could you have hurt me?"

"Today, I will avenge this severed arm of mine."

"Noisy," Yan Fengjia said. His right hand moved like lightning, his two fingers catching the blade with a sharp "clang!"

The burly man felt a searing, agonizing pain in the webbing between his thumb and index finger, for with a seemingly effortless pull from Yan Fengjia, the machete was snatched from his grip.

"You..."

Without a word, a cold flash followed. The machete cleanly hacked off his only remaining arm.

"Aaaah!"

A shrill, blood-curdling scream echoed through the bank's lobby.

Even the noblewoman who had been sitting on the sofa with ease and composure now lost the relaxed smile on her face. She rose abruptly, her expression cold as frost. "So you're good at fighting, huh? Then let's see—"

"Do you want to die too?"

"I'll grant your wish."

Yan Fengjia’s eyes were as calm as stagnant water. Before anyone could react, a sharp, piercing sound cut through the air.

The machete flew out instantly, piercing straight through the noblewoman’s abdomen and pinning her to the sofa.

"Gasp!"

Long Yiran witnessed the scene and drew a sharp breath of horror. She knew Yan Fengjia possessed exceptional medical skills and suspected he was a master of internal energy. But she had never imagined that beneath his unparalleled healing arts lay such a cold-blooded, hellish visage.

The noblewoman coughed up mouthfuls of blood. Even now, she could not believe that Yan Fengjia had truly dared to strike her. This terrifying, thunderous display of force left everyone present stunned, with no one daring to step forward.

Yan Fengjia smiled faintly, lit a cigarette under countless fearful gazes, and walked straight toward the noblewoman.

"Who... who exactly are you? How could a... a small place like Qinghai City produce a martial artist like you?"

Clearly, the noblewoman was familiar with the circle of martial artists. That strike was certainly not something an external-strength practitioner could achieve.

Yan Fengjia smiled warmly. "Qinghai City, fourth son of the Yan family. You can call me Yan Fengjia. Remember to drop my name when you get to hell."

Just then, the phone in the noblewoman's pocket rang aggressively. She tried to reach for it, but she had no strength left. Yan Fengjia slid the answer button for her and held it to her ear.

Before the woman could speak, a man's frantic, furious roar erupted from the other end of the line: "You shrew, what have you done? Why have you alarmed the top leadership of the Bank of China? Do you know I’ve been fired because of you?"

"Speak! Are you dead?"

On this side of the line, the noblewoman stared at Yan Fengjia in utter disbelief. Even in death, she could not fathom that the phone call from the man before her could truly decide her husband’s political career.

"She... she's dead! Madam Liu is dead!" someone cried out, noticing the noblewoman’s eyes were wide open and she had stopped breathing.

Yan Fengjia looked at everyone in the room. "Is there anyone else who refuses to accept this? Step forward."

No one moved.

Only the burly man on the ground, his arms both ruined, stared at Yan Fengjia with cold, icy eyes.

Yan Fengjia chuckled. "I can see you're still not convinced."

Suddenly, Yan Fengjia flashed forward and kicked the burly man, sending him flying out of the bank. A large truck happened to pass by, crushing the man into dust.

"Madam Long, it seems none of your subordinates were truly loyal to you. In the end, I had to be the one to deal with them." Yan Fengjia wiped the bloodstains from his face, a sight that made Long Yiran feel a shiver of fear. In truth, she was not the first woman to misjudge this man; before her, Shen Man had also been both drawn to and terrified by him.

"Xue'er, let's go," Long Yiran said, regaining her composure and quickly untying Long Xue'er. However, she soon realized something was wrong with her daughter’s body.

"Mom... I... I'm so sleepy, so cold. My illness is flaring up again."

"Mr. Yan, how could it happen so quickly?" Long Yiran’s face turned pale at the symptoms.

Yan Fengjia frowned. "It seems she is quite unlucky, falling into that eighty percent of unfortunate cases. This illness is already extremely severe."

"What should we do? Mr. Yan, can... can you channel some more of that Pure Yang energy into her?"

"Her body cannot handle it anymore, Madam Long. You must consider the situation yourself."

"Xue'er, listen to Mom. If it goes on like this, you will die. If you die, how can I go on living, Xue'er?"

"Mom..." Long Xue'er looked at Yan Fengjia. Previously, she had been deeply resistant to such absurd treatments. But now, seeing her condition so dire and knowing her mother had cried until her tears ran dry over the years, she could not bear it. Besides, Yan Fengjia was not a bad person; he had helped her mother many times. And... he was quite handsome.

"I... I am willing. Mom, I'll do as you say."

...

At the Long family villa, Long Yiran stood by the door, fists clenched, feeling both embarrassed and anxious. She couldn't help but imagine what was happening inside, and the image of Yan Fengjia’s sturdy physique flashed through her mind, making her feel intensely ashamed.

Inside the room, however, it was relatively calm. Long Xue'er lay on the bed, her face pale and her body icy cold. She looked a bit fearful, her pure and lovely face belying the perfect inheritance of her mother's generous proportions.

"Your name is Yan Fengjia, right? My mom told me that just now," Long Xue'er said, seemingly unafraid of him, even though she had just seen him kill without blinking. This was the influence of her "Charm Body" (Meiti), sensing that Yan Fengjia’s Jiang family bloodline was of great benefit to her. The hormones she secreted made her subconsciously want to draw close to this man.

"Yes," Yan Fengjia replied, smoking a cigarette on the sofa, lost in thought.

"How old are you?" Long Xue'er asked curiously.

"Twenty-three."

"You look very mature," Long Xue'er said. Her skin was white as paper as she reached out a hand that was slender but appeared frail. She gestured for Yan Fengjia to come over.

Yan Fengjia stubbed out his cigarette, sat on the bed, and took Long Xue'er’s hand.

"After this is over, your illness will be cured. You might even feel more... more full of vitality than you ever have in your life." He paused, organizing his words. "Before we begin, I have three things to tell you. Remember them well."

"Okay," Long Xue'er agreed without hesitation.

"First, never abuse your abilities just because you have become stronger than those around you, and do not cause trouble for your mother."

"Second, in the future, keep this talent hidden from everyone except me and your mother."

"Third, and most importantly," Yan Fengjia frowned, "love your mother well. She is the person who cares for you most in this world. You must listen to her."

"You talk just like an old man," Long Xue'er smiled. "But I’ll listen."

"Come here."

Yan Fengjia drew the curtains. As their clothes slid from the bed, the cicadas outside chirped excitedly, wave after wave growing louder.

...

I don't know how much time had passed when Long Yiran, waiting by the door, suddenly saw the room open. Yan Fengjia walked out, and Long Yiran looked nervously toward the room. Inside, Long Xue'er was huddled under the covers, her head buried, while the rumpled sheets served as a messy testament to the battle that had taken place.

"Mr. Yan, my daughter, she..."

"She is fine, better than I imagined," Yan Fengjia said, handing over a prescription. "Follow this to get the medicine. Take it consistently for a month, one bowl a day."

"Isn't she cured? Why... why does she still need medicine?" Long Yiran asked nervously.

Yan Fengjia gave a bitter smile and glanced back at Long Xue'er. He said meaningfully, "She needs the medicine not because she isn't cured, but because... it needs to be suppressed."

"Huh?"

Long Yiran was puzzled, but before she could ask anything else, Yan Fengjia had already departed, brushing off his sleeves.

Little did she know, as Yan Fengjia turned the corner, he leaned one hand against the wall, his legs trembling as he walked.

"Deserving of being a natural Charm Body. Damn it, you nearly drained me dry."