Chapter 87: Drawn In

Seeing the man in black approaching Su Tong, Da Long felt secretly pleased. You’re the real ignorant fool here. Even when I'm in perfect condition, I'd rather avoid Su Tong, that freak, and yet you dare to talk big?

"Da Long, if I hit him, will it be okay? Can your Yang family handle any trouble?" Su Tong asked Da Long.

This time, Da Long didn’t pretend to be tough. He paused his bout with his opponent, feeling pain in his organs and leaning against the car. "As long as you don’t kill him, it’s fine."

The young man in black glared at Su Tong, furious. Where did this wild brat come from, speaking so shamelessly?

"Careful you don’t bite your tongue with those boasts. Aren’t you just an entertainer? Your lip is sharp, I’ll give you that," the young man in black sneered.

Su Tong replied humbly, "Not really, not really. Selling skills is better than selling yourself. If I set a price, it would be much higher than yours."

The young man in black fumed, thinking, It's just because you’re handsome. What’s so special about being good-looking? Still, he had to admit, girls like handsome guys, just as men like beautiful women. The thought made him furious—he was quite ordinary in looks.

"Go to hell!" he bellowed in rage, swinging a fist at Su Tong, aiming straight for the face that women adored and men envied.

"Though I have a face I could make a living with, I prefer to rely on my talent. But that doesn’t mean I’ll let it be wronged, right?" Su Tong reached out with both hands, grabbing the young man's arms like two snakes slithering up a staff, smoothly climbing to his shoulders.

The young man in black was startled; this brat was no ordinary person.

Bang!

Su Tong pulled him forward, bent low, and kicked his rear leg up so high that his heel smashed down on the young man's head.

Dazed, the man staggered back several steps, shaking his head.

Su Tong straightened and clapped his hands. "From a physics standpoint, force is reciprocal. Your skull is harder than my heel. I suppose that means I lost and you won."

The bespectacled companion in black couldn’t believe it—his friend suffered a heavy blow after just one exchange?

"So you know a bit of mediocre kung fu. I was careless," the young man in black said, furious and humiliated. He attacked again, launching a flying kick at Su Tong’s face.

Su Tong observed him: Did he not understand the taboos of martial artists, or was he just too confident? Experts are careful with every move, never striking or kicking at random, especially with their feet. Once you kick, only one foot supports your balance.

Unless you’re lying or sitting, people rely on both legs to maintain balance—even walking is a rapid alternation between legs. If the alternation drags on, it’s hard to keep steady on one foot.

The young man raised his leg high; he could hold his balance for a moment, but after two seconds, it would falter.

"Go back and practice for a few more years," Su Tong said, slapping at his calf as he advanced.

The young man’s foot had barely landed, his balance still unstable, when he saw Su Tong closing in—

Bang!

His chest took a sharp elbow from Su Tong, nearly knocking the wind from him. He gasped, clutching his throat as if his windpipe had been crushed.

Da Long was astonished. Last time on the train, when they fought the thugs, had Su Tong held back? Not even a month had passed, and his skills had improved so much.

Or perhaps this man without glasses was just too weak, far inferior to the bespectacled one?

"What’s wrong with you tonight?" the bespectacled man in black complained. His companion had been beaten by Su Tong with no chance to fight back; he felt humiliated.

The other young man’s face was ashen as he attacked again, this time with his left fist, aiming a straight punch at Su Tong’s chin.

Su Tong frowned. "Still stubborn, huh?"

He shaped his left hand like a knife and chopped sideways.

Clang!

A muffled metallic sound rang out. Su Tong’s expression darkened; he spun swiftly, executing a powerful back kick.

Bang!

The young man in black screamed as Su Tong's foot struck his chest, sending him flying several meters and crashing into their car.

After kicking him away, Su Tong looked grim. He glanced down—his left palm was purplish-black, blood pooling under the skin.

The young man wore a steel wrist guard on his left arm—devious! Su Tong stared coldly, murderous intent flashing in his eyes, but it quickly faded.

"Ugh—"

The young man spat blood; Su Tong’s kick was nearly full force. If he had Wei Yan’s physique, the man would have been dead.

"Despicable! The Shi family is disgraced by people like you," Da Long said, examining Su Tong’s injured hand, then glaring at the two men in black with utter contempt.

The bloodied young man’s face grew darker still.

The bespectacled man in black snorted, "Acting weak to trick your opponent—who’s more despicable?"

"Ugh—" The young man spat blood again, his face darkening.

"Pretty boy, you ignored the road to heaven and barged through hell’s door. You’ve injured someone from the Shi family—prepare to disappear," the bespectacled youth threatened.

With that, he helped his wounded companion into the car and sped off.

Su Tong turned to Da Long, "Didn’t you say injuring them wouldn’t be a problem?"

"You could threaten them too—anyone can talk tough," Da Long replied coldly.

Su Tong breathed a sigh of relief. "That makes me feel better. Da Long, you’re in bad shape. Let me take you home—where do you live?"

"Will you have me bring you back later?" Da Long glanced at Su Tong. "There’s competition, but they won’t dare to kill easily, especially someone from the Yang family like me."

Su Tong grew worried. "Da Long, you’re not lying, right? Plenty of people disappear every year. I have no support, no power, no influence."

Da Long said nothing more, tossed the kicked-off car door into the trunk, and drove off in the doorless car.

Su Tong looked at the distant onlookers, then turned and entered the building.

Inside, he saw a woman standing by the inner door, as if she had stepped out of a painting. She wore a cheongsam patterned like blue and white porcelain—elegant and refined, her presence left Su Tong stunned.

"Come in," she said. This was Sister Ya Ya. She pressed a switch on the wall, opening the inner door.

Without an access card, the door could only be opened from inside.

"Ya… Sister Ya Ya, Da Long is… injured," Su Tong stammered, unable to speak fluently, though silence was not his usual style. He had to force out a hesitant sentence.

"A minor wound," Sister Ya Ya replied softly, walking ahead.

Su Tong was surprised—so she had seen everything.

"Sister Ya Ya, you look so beautiful tonight. Where are you going?" Su Tong followed her, admiring her graceful curves. For the first time, he understood what breathtaking beauty meant; she embodied it perfectly.

Sister Ya Ya smiled without answering, gently clasping one hand in the other. In the elevator, she faced Su Tong directly.

From the front, her figure was even more alluring. Su Tong glanced, then dared not look again.

How miraculous the creator was, to bring such a woman into the world. Su Tong realized anew what it meant for beauty to topple kingdoms; if given the choice, he’d choose the beauty over the throne.

"You did very well. You’ll be rewarded," Sister Ya Ya smiled.

Su Tong was dazzled. The smile of Venus paled in comparison, not even a fraction as lovely.

He only came to his senses when the elevator reached their floor and the doors opened.

A reward?

What did that mean? Sister Ya Ya’s sudden words left Su Tong bewildered.