Chapter Sixteen: The Golden Cavern

At five o’clock the following afternoon, Wang Zhibing was already urging him. Qin Yang lazily went downstairs after saying a word to Gao Xiaolan.

Yet, when Wang Zhibing saw Qin Yang’s attire, he felt it didn’t fit the occasion at all. White down jacket, jeans, sneakers—a common look, lacking any trace of a young master’s aura. He wanted to take Qin Yang to change into something more appropriate, but Qin Yang firmly refused. Wang Zhibing wasn’t a fool; he understood Qin Yang had no intention of negotiating this marriage, but was only going because he had no choice, forced by Qin Lie’s circumstances. Of course, Wang Zhibing wasn’t foolish enough to report this, and he knew Qin Yang’s changes better than anyone, so his expectations for Qin Yang were even higher.

As they drove through a bustling district, Qin Yang suddenly spotted two familiar figures through the car window, his heart stirred.

Wasn’t that Yang Yaxin and Qin Wu?

Why were they here? Looking closely, he saw two men beside them. The women’s expressions were reluctant, yet tinged with resignation. Qin Yang frowned, seeing one of the men—a brash young fellow—grabbing at Qin Wu, who resisted as much as she dared, afraid to anger him. Qin Yang grew curious.

“Stop the car.”

Without a second thought, Qin Yang gave the order. He still had a certain fondness for Yang Yaxin and Qin Wu; though Qin Wu was a bit spoiled, she was endearing in her own way.

Wang Zhibing hurriedly pulled over, puzzled. “What’s wrong, young master? It’s almost time. We’re expected in Jianghai by seven; the master and madam are ready. We should hurry. Being late isn’t good.”

“The matchmaking can wait. I have something urgent.” Qin Yang didn’t elaborate, pushed open the car door, and dashed off. Wang Zhibing watched in frustration as Qin Yang disappeared into the crowd, his heart bitter. What was this? The young master was being impulsive! The madam had pinned her hopes on this matchmaking; even if unsuccessful, he should at least show up. Now Qin Yang was planning to stand up both the master and madam.

“Are you trying to get me killed?” Wang Zhibing felt on the verge of tears. Gritting his teeth, he hurried after.

At the entrance of a lavish nightclub, it was already past six—not the busiest hour, but the night’s excitement was just beginning.

“Yaxin, this is the most famous entertainment venue in all of Haitian. Let’s go inside and have some fun,” said the man with gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze unpleasantly leering despite his upright demeanor. Compared to him, the brash companion seemed more decent.

Yang Yaxin frowned at the splendid nightclub. If not for business, she wouldn’t be caught dead with such people, let alone dragging her best friend along. Born and raised in Haitian City, she was well aware of the club’s reputation—Golden Pavilion, true to its name, a veritable den of iniquity known throughout the southeastern province. The music blared, dancers flaunted their bodies, and the atmosphere ignited a man’s desires. Every night, countless people came here seeking pleasure.

Yet chaos reigned within. Yang Yaxin wanted nothing to do with such sordidness, but thinking of her father’s company’s last hope, she steeled herself and said to Qin Wu, “Xiaowu, you should head home. It’s getting late.”

“No, I want to go too,” Qin Wu shook her head, clutching Yang Yaxin’s arm.

The brash young man’s eyes lit up. “Let’s all go together. Without Xiaowu, it won’t be much fun.” As he spoke, he tried to drape his arm over Qin Wu’s shoulder, but she blocked him.

“Wei Yu,” the man with glasses—Long Qiuhu—frowned slightly, signaling him to wait. Wei Yu shrugged.

From afar, Qin Yang scratched his head. Though the distance was considerable and the area noisy, he could clearly hear their conversation—a benefit, perhaps, from the Palace of Hell. Judging by Yang Yaxin’s expression and tone, she was clearly reluctant to be here but forced by necessity. After a moment’s thought, Qin Yang stepped forward—Yang Yaxin had helped him many times, and this was a chance to repay her. More importantly, with Yang Yaxin and Qin Wu’s beauty, he didn’t want others to take advantage.

“Yang Yaxin, Qin Wu!” he called, waving as he approached.

The two beauties paused, turned, and exchanged glances. Wasn’t that the big eater from earlier today? Hadn’t he gone home? Why was he here?

A glimmer of joy flashed in Yang Yaxin’s eyes—her instinct told her tonight’s shield had arrived.

“What are you doing here?” Yang Yaxin asked.

“Heh, after dinner I thought I’d have a drink, so I came here. What about you two?” Qin Yang glanced at them.

Qin Wu seized the opportunity to pull Yang Yaxin to Qin Yang’s side. In her eyes, Qin Yang was far better than Wei Yu and Long Qiuhu, though she said aloud, “This is Long Qiuhu, this is Wei Yu, and this is Qin Hua, our friend.”

“Hmph, none of the three are decent. Let them fight it out,” Qin Wu thought vindictively.

Long Qiuhu’s eyes flashed with calculation as he sized up Qin Hua. Ordinary clothes, unremarkable presence, and unfamiliar in Haitian’s circles—probably just a regular guy with some spare cash for drinks. His guard dropped considerably. “Since you’re a friend, let’s have a drink together?”

“Sure,” Qin Yang replied with a grin, scratching his head.

Yang Yaxin saw through Qin Wu’s intentions and glared at her, dissatisfied. The idea of using Qin Yang as a shield was just a passing thought; she didn’t really mean it. Both Long Qiuhu and Wei Yu had influence in Haitian City—if Qin Yang got hurt, it’d be terrible. But Qin Wu didn’t care and dragged her inside the Golden Pavilion. Wei Yu snorted, glared at Qin Yang, and followed Long Qiuhu inside.

Qin Yang scratched his head, surveyed his surroundings, and entered after them.

Upon entry, he was greeted by a wave of noisy heat. Yet within this heat, there was a substance his body instinctively rejected. The jade pendant on his chest sent a steady stream of cool energy, keeping him alert. In the sea of consciousness, the Palace of Hell burst with black light, forming a faint protective film on his skin, blocking the infiltrating fumes.

“What sort of hellhole is this?” Qin Yang thought grimly.

The jade pendant had properties for calming the mind; whatever it repelled was not good. The Palace of Hell deep within his consciousness had always brought him benefits, never harm—this time was no exception. Looking around, he saw wild shouting and rampant desire in people’s eyes, regardless of age or gender.

“What are you staring at? Hurry up,” Qin Wu pulled him forward, thinking he was a bumpkin unfamiliar with the place. “Never been here before? Don’t stand around gaping—it’s embarrassing.”

Qin Yang was speechless. He’d been to places like this more than once; whether Jianghai’s clubs had such desire-inducing fumes was unknown. Dragged by Qin Wu, he obediently sat on a sofa. Wei Yu, annoyed at their closeness, called for several strong drinks and placed them on the table. “First meeting, let’s have a drink?”

He arrogantly grabbed a glass and downed it in one gulp, then looked at Qin Yang with disdain. Wei Yu, seasoned in such venues, could hold his liquor—dealing with a guy like Qin Yang, a few drinks would surely topple him. Qin Yang didn’t hesitate; he took a glass and drained it in one go, his heart steady and face unchanged. Joking aside, if anyone was the king of nightlife, it was Qin Yang.

Yet as the fiery liquor slid down his throat, Qin Yang was startled.

He sensed a strange taste in the drink. The memory of this odd flavor didn’t belong to him, but to the old mystic Yang Rui!

“Damn, Five-Stone Powder? Poppy juice? Is this place a den of poison?”