Chapter Seventy-Nine: Huang Zequn’s Shameless Tongue

Faced with Zhao Hai’s complete disregard for his dignity, Wang Zhitao’s face had turned nearly black. At best, he was just the son of a county magistrate, while behind Zhao Hai stood Southeast Province’s underworld kingpin, Boss Cao. Boss Cao’s influence reached into every corner of the province, involving all manner of powerful figures and their extended families. No matter how brash Wang Zhitao might be, he wouldn’t dare throw his father’s weight around against this man; about the most he could do was wait for his father to arrive and speak on his behalf, and that would be the end of it.

“Oh, Huang Zequn’s brat is inside too? Wang Zhitao, you’re finished,” Zhao Hai said, his lips twisting into a half-smile, half-sneer as he glanced at him.

Wang Zhitao shuddered. The others exchanged nervous glances as well, unsure why Zhao Hai had said that. By all rights, didn’t they hold the advantage in numbers?

“Zhao Hai, are you done with your nonsense? Did I invite you here for fun?” came Qin Ye’s voice from the crowd, sounding less than confident.

Zhao Hai’s expression changed. He pushed his way past a few thugs and strode in, loudly declaring, “Who the hell thinks they can order me around?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Qin Yang narrowed his eyes and sneered. “Are you looking for a beating, or just begging for one?”

“I’m begging to be scolded,” Zhao Hai shamelessly sidled up, grinning apologetically. “Young Master Qin, what’s your pleasure? Should I take care of them for you? I guarantee I’ll wipe them all out—send them all to spend the New Year in the hospital. If I leave even one, you can slap me.”

Qin Yang jerked his chin toward Qin Ye.

Huang Zequn, meanwhile, leaned in and whispered a few words into Zhao Hai’s ear. Instantly, Zhao Hai’s demeanor shifted. He shuffled over to Qin Ye, all smiles. “Mr. Qin, did these fools lay a hand on you? Just say the word—what do you want done? It’s all up to you.”

“Me?” Qin Ye was caught off guard.

On the side, Liu Fei and Wang Zhitao’s faces had collapsed entirely. Who exactly was this Qin Ye, to have Zhao Hai show up in person for him? Wasn’t he just from an ordinary family? Why? Even Liu Na’s face was green with panic, completely at a loss. Anyone could see that although Zhao Hai had only brought about a dozen men, they were all the bosses of the thugs Wang Zhitao had called in. Judging by how subdued they were, this was no longer a game.

“Mr. Qin.”

At that moment, a figure rushed over. Zhao Hai’s men moved to stop him, but Qin Yang waved them off, allowing him through.

“Oh, it’s you. Still want to go one-on-one with me?” Qin Yang asked, amused, watching the man pant for breath.

“Brother.” Liu Fei froze and called out bitterly.

Liu Long kicked him and muttered, “Useless fool—get out of the way.” Then he turned to Qin Yang and said solemnly, “Mr. Qin, my brother has caused trouble for you. As his older brother, I can’t just stand by and watch him get beaten. I, Liu Long, won’t argue. My one-hundred-and-fifty-pound body is yours to deal with as you please. I only ask that you spare my brother.”

“You?” Huang Zequn snorted. “You think you can take the fall? Are you up to it?”

“If I so much as blink, I’m not a real man,” Liu Long gritted out.

Liu Fei stood to the side, shrinking in fear, not daring to say a word. Liu Na was trembling uncontrollably.

“Well, not bad.” Qin Yang chuckled. “I’d thought of dragging Qin Ye off to Jianghai City to toughen him up, give him some backbone. Didn’t expect you’d show up—much more impressive than Qin Ye himself. Here, I’ll give you a phone number. Go to Jianghai City and find Ji Lietiger. If you can hold your own there, I’ll forget your brother’s mistake.”

“Ji Lietiger.”

Qin Yang’s words were spoken softly, heard only by a few. Upon hearing the name, Liu Long was electrified, his blood surging. Ji Lietiger—a legendary figure he’d known of since his early days in the underworld. The stories said that with a single blade, Ji had once blocked off an entire street, holding back over a hundred men who dared not move forward. He was a true living legend of the Southeast’s criminal world. Recently, word was that he’d been betrayed and landed in prison, only to break out in a blaze of glory. Liu Long could hardly believe Qin Yang was able to introduce him to Ji Lietiger. The thought of joining forces with such a legend and making a name for himself filled Liu Long with longing; he wished he could pack his bags for Jianghai City that very instant.

“But be warned—Ji Lietiger is planning a comeback. If you drag him down, there’ll be more than a few people wanting your head,” Qin Yang whispered in his ear.

“Understood.”

Liu Long nodded excitedly. Then, seeing his brother still shivering in terror, he glanced at Qin Yang, who waved his hand. Liu Long promptly kicked Liu Fei in the rear. “Get out. Go home, now!”

Liu Fei didn’t dare linger. He ran off, nearly wetting himself, with Liu Na following behind. Not long after stepping outside, though, Liu Fei scolded her and sent her away too. As for Liu Long, after glancing at Wang Zhitao, he left as well, eager to move on. Having run the streets since his teens, he was finally making contact with a genuine underworld organization; he didn’t even plan on spending the New Year at home anymore.

“Alright, so how do we deal with this one?” Zhao Hai asked.

Huang Zequn curled his lip. “Old Qin, you’ve already let one go. If word gets out you let another off, our reputation will be ruined.”

“Fine then, you decide,” Qin Yang replied languidly.

Huang Zequn grinned. “I’m not one for violence, but I don’t like people waving their hands in my face either. Here’s the deal, Wang Zhitao. Since you called in so many people, you can’t just walk away without a scratch, right? How about each person gives you a slap, then we’re even?”

“Impossible!” Wang Zhitao roared. “Who do you think you are? This is Fengyang County—you really think you can turn the world upside down? Zhao Hai might be scared of you, but I’m not.”

“Stop posturing in front of your men,” Huang Zequn replied, unruffled, waving his hand dismissively. “Relax. You’re not even pretending to be tough anymore—just a thin-skinned blowhard, really not worth the effort. Your little followers don’t dare cross Zhao Hai and his people; don’t make things harder on them. And look at the urban management officers—sure, they’re bold when it comes to harassing ordinary folks, but when it comes to real trouble, they don’t have much fight in them. So there’s no point in putting on a show here. Why bother? It’s just a few slaps. You’re already fat enough—even if your face swells, no one will suspect it’s from a beating. They’ll just think, ‘Oh, Young Master Wang overate again—must be eating pig’s head every day. Look, now he’s turned into a pig’s head himself. It’s even spreading to his gut—what a friendly jab!’ No need to lose your temper. Just toss back a few sarcastic remarks—nothing personal—and people will say, ‘Young Master Wang is so down-to-earth, worthy son of the county magistrate: solid build, honest character, can take a joke—perfect target for roasting. Feeling down? Go find Wang Zhitao!’ Over time, after word spreads online, you’ll become a national idol—the model for suffering fools gladly, maybe even win a Top Ten Youth Award, or a prize for Outstanding Contribution in Resisting the Second Generation of Aristocrats. See? I’m planning your future for you—no need to thank me.”

Qin Ye and Qin Yao were trembling with suppressed laughter. Even Zhao Hai was biting down so hard on his cigarette that the tip was nearly chewed off, his face twitching. It was well known in Jianghai City that Huang Zequn was a notorious villain who preferred scathing words over violence; he’d earned seventh place among the city’s top ten scoundrels with his sharp tongue alone, while the higher ranks were all infamous for their fists.

No one expected to witness his performance firsthand today.

What a savage tongue.

But the most unrestrained was Qin Wu, who was already laughing so hard she couldn’t close her mouth, pointing at Wang Zhitao and laughing until she was speechless. Even Wang Zhitao’s own men wore awkward expressions.

“So, have you made up your mind?” Huang Zequn asked, glancing at Wang Zhitao. “Time’s ticking—the crowd’s going to gather soon. If people see you now, my helpful advice will be useless.”

“You, you—” Wang Zhitao was so furious he could barely contain himself, ready to lash out. But with a wave from Zhao Hai, two of his henchmen stepped forward, looking fierce and menacing.

Glancing at his own followers—shrinking back, too afraid to act—Wang Zhitao, seething, pulled out his phone and made a call. “Get over here—bring the riot squad to Fengyang Supermarket, and hurry.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Zhao Hai sneered. “Your only savior is here now.”

Everyone turned, looking toward the entrance. An Audi with government plates screeched to a halt outside the supermarket. Moments later, seven or eight men climbed out, all of them corpulent, and one of them wore a police uniform, looking every inch the authority.

“Oh, a first-class superintendent—must be the deputy chief,” Huang Zequn remarked with a grin. “Probably a fellow foodie, judging by his size.”