Chapter 53: Extortion

Naked sarcasm—one sentence was enough to make everyone feel as if they’d swallowed a booger, a sickening discomfort, like in a street brawl where a mob was about to pounce on a lone target, only for some bastard to charge in wielding a shit-stirring stick, its golden filth forcing everyone to retreat in disgust. The crowd stood there awkwardly, faces twisted, clinging to their pride, yet feeling thoroughly humiliated.

“Quit posturing. Believe it or not, I’ll set this place on fire!” Qin Yang cursed as he strode into the club, only to be greeted first by a group of men dressed in matching uniforms, standing in strict formation, their style just as laughable as the fools outside. In unison, they bowed and called out, “Greetings, Young Master Qin.”

The thunderous greeting made Qin Yang helplessly dig at his ear. Noticing the unmasked ridicule in some of their eyes, he found it all the more laughable. He waved a hand and said, “Hello, everyone. Go take a break if you’re free. I’m sure you’ve rehearsed this plenty. I don’t care for this kind of face-saving; it’s no matter.”

No one paid his words any mind. Instead, they split into two lines, leaving a meter-wide aisle for him to pass. But just as he walked through, he distinctly heard a muttered insult: “Useless.”

Rage flared within Qin Yang. He had come here to settle scores, not to be insulted. This stunt by Boss Cao was going too far! Taking a deep breath, he glanced toward the direction of the voice and demanded, “Who said that?”

“Young Master Qin?” The driver from earlier chuckled, “Say what? Did you mishear? Boss Cao arranged all this to welcome you.”

“I didn’t mishear.” Qin Yang grinned coldly. “I heard someone just call me useless.”

The driver was caught off guard, not expecting Qin Yang to confront it so bluntly, but quickly recovered, laughing it off. “Impossible, Young Master. You must have misheard.”

“Are you doubting my ears?” Qin Yang’s smile was like that of a clown, unreadable and threatening. The driver, loyal to Boss Cao for years, had never encountered such an unsettling expression in his vast experience. He started recalling the reports from earlier—Qin Yang really had changed. Sensing the awkward tension, he hurried to say, “Young Master, you must be mistaken. Why don’t we head inside? Boss Cao is already waiting.”

“Get lost.” Qin Yang spat out the words.

“What?”

“I said get lost.” Qin Yang’s eyes narrowed, his smile fading as he stared at a man standing to his left. “Boss Cao’s tricks are clever, I’ll give him that. I admit I’m a useless heir, but not just anyone has the right to call me that. Would the two gentlemen in front of him mind stepping aside?”

He signaled to the two men, each nearly a head taller than him. But they stood unmoved, ignoring his request, nostrils flared, gazes fixed elsewhere. The one who’d muttered the insult looked on with a mocking glint, showing no fear.

“Not moving?” Qin Yang looked troubled, patting their chests. “Solid build. Not bad.”

“Young Master Qin,” the driver interjected anxiously.

“Scram!” Qin Yang swatted him away, a cold gleam in his eyes. His unpredictable temperament startled many. “Step aside. I’ll play the clown for you once, but if anything happens, don’t expect me to pay your medical bills.”

“Young Master, you must have heard wrong,” insisted one of the men blocking his path.

Before he could finish, Qin Yang seized him by the throat, lifting the nearly two-hundred-pound man off the ground. Through gritted teeth, he spat, “I came here for answers. If this is how you want it, don’t blame me for not playing nice.”

A dull thud echoed as, to everyone’s shock, Qin Yang hurled the man aside and immediately advanced on the one who’d insulted him. The others rushed in, their burly frames closing ranks so tightly that Qin Yang was almost invisible from the outside. The driver smirked coldly, whispering, “So long as he’s not crippled, it’s fine. Boss Cao said at most the young master gets taught a lesson.”

Those who overheard wore similar sneers. This kid had always been arrogant, but never so brazen on this turf—today, they finally had their chance.

Seeing the crowd itching for a fight, Qin Yang’s heart grew heavy.

“These men aren’t weak. Maybe you could handle seven or eight, but there are over twenty here,” the butler’s voice sounded in his mind. “Even if they don’t dare go all out, you’re still at a disadvantage. I advise against rashness—this is your future team. A hostile clash will harm your prospects.”

“Do you think they’ll listen to me if I don’t teach them a lesson?” Qin Yang replied coldly. “With my father around, they won’t betray me. But what if he’s gone one day? I’m not running a charity.”

“Old Seven, since the young master suspects you, let him vent his anger.” One of the men waved, and the crowd formed a ring. “But remember, the young master is still the young master.”

“I understand.” Old Seven clenched his fists, stepping forward to face Qin Yang. “Young Master, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

Qin Yang glanced around, sneering, “A misunderstanding? I don’t think so.”

With that, he lashed out with a kick. Old Seven smirked, deftly sidestepping and preparing to counter, but suddenly a fist the size of a sandbag crashed into him. There was a sickening crack, and blood streamed from both nostrils as his nose caved in.

Everyone gasped in shock.

Old Seven was a battle-hardened street fighter, experienced and formidable. None present could have taken him down so easily, but Qin Yang—long dismissed as a pampered scion—had done just that! It was clear: Qin Yang’s fighting prowess surpassed any of them. Even if Old Seven underestimated him, the speed and decisiveness of Qin Yang’s attack left no doubt—it was no accident.

Old Seven roared and lunged, but Qin Yang remained calm, his punches sharp and swift. The crowd saw Old Seven struck again, flung through the air as if smashed by a hammer. Before he could hit the ground, Qin Yang struck once more, kicking him in the waist and sending him crashing into three or four others before coming to a stop.

“Cao, get out here!” Qin Yang stood his ground, murderous intent radiating. “If you don’t give me a satisfactory explanation for these two matters, as long as I draw breath, I’ll make sure you never sleep soundly again!”

“Young Master Qin.”

A low, solemn voice rang out. The crowd instinctively parted, and a tall, middle-aged man in a white traditional suit strode forward. He wore long black hair, a pale face with elegant features, but his expression was unreadable. His name was Cao Ji, once a highly educated overseas returnee. After a family tragedy, his temperament changed, and he took a dark path, carving out a domain in Jianghai City with shrewd vision and an iron fist. Betrayed and hunted by enemies, he was saved at a critical moment by Qin Lie, who enabled his comeback and rise as a regional overlord in Southeast Province, overseeing the underbelly of Hailong Transport Group. Cao Ji was deeply loyal to Qin Lie—loyal to him alone. No one else in the Qin family, not even Qin Lie’s wife, was worthy of his allegiance.

“Well played, Cao,” Qin Yang sneered.

Boss Cao coughed, motioning for his men to carry Old Seven away. “A little discipline is fine, but Young Master, you needn’t get so worked up.”

“Don’t try that cultured act with me,” Qin Yang snorted. “I have no patience for it. Unless you give me a reasonable explanation today, I won’t let this go. There are thirty-two of you here, including yourself. If it costs me my life, I’ll drag you all to hell with me. If you don’t believe me, try me.”

“Young Master, this is not a place for your antics,” Boss Cao said gravely. “The old master would never allow such behavior. If you’ve made your point, go home.”

“I like making trouble,” Qin Yang replied carelessly, shrugging. “I have a bet with the old man. He broke the rules first. What, I can’t make a scene as the victim?”

Boss Cao paused, a wry smile flickering in his eyes. He knew about the bet with Qin Lie: if Qin Yang achieved results that satisfied the old master, he would be deemed successful. During this time, Qin Yang was forbidden to use any of the Qin family’s power or influence, and Qin Lie could not interfere in his affairs. Though the penalty for breaking the rules was unspecified, Qin Yang clearly had no intention of backing down.

“Let’s make a deal,” Boss Cao said. “I know there’s a ten-million bounty on Liu Molan. I’ll find out who ordered it and have the bounty revoked. How about that?”

“I can do that myself,” Qin Yang shook his head. “It’ll just take a bit more time, but I have time to spare.”

“So what do you want?” Boss Cao asked, slightly shaking his head.

Qin Yang smiled. “Simple. Hand over the two who attacked me before. If you do, I’ll pretend you never sent people to harass me.”

“Those two are elusive. I can’t guarantee I’ll find them quickly,” Boss Cao replied frankly.

“That makes it even easier. As I said before—cut off your own arm.” Qin Yang’s tone was icy.

At these words, Boss Cao’s trusted men erupted in fury, pressing in. Qin Yang glared, “Want to die? Be my guest!”

“Qin Yang, have you made enough trouble?” Suddenly, an impatient shout came from Boss Cao’s phone. Qin Yang narrowed his eyes and laughed, “Well played, Cao, you’ve got another trick up your sleeve.”

“There’s nothing I can do with you. The old man broke the rules first—it’s a family affair, so I’ll stay out of it.” Boss Cao sipped tea handed to him, looking utterly at ease.

Qin Yang shouted into the phone, “Old man, let’s not drag this out with blood and broken bones. I have one condition to end this—cancel my engagement with Liu Yan.”

“Impossible!”

“That’s fine, you’re the old man. I’ll compromise. Here’s the deal: Tianfeng Mall is looking for partners in Jianghai City. I know there’s a plot of land you’ve had your eye on—just agree to cooperate with Tianfeng Mall. Don’t drag your feet, or I’ll make a mess!”

“You want me to help you chase girls?”

“Exactly. What else are fathers for?”