Chapter 28: The Miserable Zhou Yuansheng

Outside the private room, a crowd had already gathered, each person clutching a machete. These were all Zhou Yuansheng’s men, who had rushed over to rescue their boss after learning he was in danger. But none dared enter, for standing beside Zhou Yuansheng was a young man wielding a bloodstained blade—Yang Fan. The crimson streaks on his weapon were glaring, and the sight of more than a dozen men writhing in pain on the floor left the newcomers startled and fearful. Over a dozen men, all felled by this one young man.

“Brother, I advise you not to act rashly. Otherwise, none of you will leave here alive. The place outside is full of my people,” Zhou Yuansheng tried to persuade Yang Fan, though inside, terror consumed him. He knew that if Yang Fan decided to strike, he would not survive. The scene he had just witnessed left his heart trembling, a shadow cast over his soul. Now, he could only hope Yang Fan would be concerned enough about Zhang Qingya and the others to hesitate. As long as Yang Fan had scruples, Zhou Yuansheng still had a chance to live.

No one outside dared enter without Zhou Yuansheng’s command.

“Your people? They’re nothing to me,” Yang Fan sneered. “If I wished, every one of you would be sent to the underworld.” His tone brimmed with arrogance and absolute confidence. To Yang Fan, these men were mere mortals, posing no threat. If not for his desire to avoid escalating matters and drawing national attention so soon after arriving in Yuancheng, he would have already acted. He needed to keep a low profile for now.

Zhou Yuansheng did not doubt Yang Fan’s words, having witnessed his terrifying prowess firsthand. In his eyes, Yang Fan was a butcher, devoid of mercy. “Brother, if you let me go, I promise you’ll all leave here safely,” Zhou Yuansheng pleaded, having lost all confidence in escaping by force.

Of course, these were only words for now. If he survived, he would mobilize his forces to hunt Yang Fan down and kill him.

Hearing that they might leave safely, Zhang Qingya and Mo Chenxi finally breathed a sigh of relief. Their gazes fell on Yang Fan, full of curiosity. They had never imagined that he would be so formidable, felling over a dozen men without a scratch. Not a drop of blood stained his spotless clothes, even though the room was drenched in the blood of those whose arms he had severed.

To the two women, Yang Fan had become shrouded in mystery. Where they once thought him mad, they now saw his confidence was well-founded.

Yang Fan gazed coldly at Zhou Yuansheng and said in a frosty tone, “I told you, if you want to live, get on your knees, kowtow, admit your fault, and sever one of your own arms.”

His words were final; there would be no change. That was Yang Fan’s code.

Zhou Yuansheng’s expression changed, his voice trembling. “Brother, don’t go too far. I’m a member of the Black Tiger Society. Do you dare cross the Black Tiger Society?”

Upon learning this, Gao Yang, Zhou Yuan, and the others all turned pale. In Yuancheng, these wealthy heirs knew all about the Black Tiger Society—it was a powerful gang, and no one dared provoke them lightly.

“What of the Black Tiger Society? To me, they’re as insignificant as ants. I could crush them with a flick of my wrist,” Yang Fan replied, his arrogance boundless.

“My cousin is the leader of the Black Tiger Society. If anything happens to me, you won’t last in Yuancheng,” Zhou Yuansheng threatened.

A mocking smile played at Yang Fan’s lips. “Then call your cousin. Let him come and see if he can save you.”

Yang Fan scoffed inwardly. If he hadn’t killed Gao Hong, Huang Ma would still be the second-in-command of the Black Tiger Society.

Zhou Yuansheng, frowning, picked up his phone and dialed his cousin. The call was quickly answered.

“Cousin, it’s me. I’m in trouble—come save me, quickly,” Zhou Yuansheng explained his predicament.

“Who dares cause trouble on Black Tiger Society turf? They must have a death wish. Tell him to wait—I’ll bring my men,” Huang Ma’s icy voice sounded from the phone.

After hanging up, Zhou Yuansheng stared at Yang Fan. “Brother, it’s not too late to regret this.”

With his cousin personally involved, Zhou Yuansheng was certain Yang Fan was doomed. Letting him call for help—didn’t this fool know what death meant? He figured no matter how strong Yang Fan was, he couldn’t stand against thousands. The Black Tiger Society was a major force in Yuancheng, with thousands of men. Once they arrived, Yang Fan would have no escape.

Zhou Yuansheng thought Yang Fan must have taken leave of his senses.

Yang Fan remained calm, silent, watching Zhou Yuansheng.

Five minutes later, over twenty vans pulled up outside Emperor’s Disco. Hundreds of men poured out, machetes in hand. Huang Ma got out and led his men inside, finally stopping at the private room’s door.

“Who dares make trouble on my Green Snake Gang’s turf? Step forward!” Huang Ma strode into the room, shouting fiercely.

“Cousin, it’s him!” Zhou Yuansheng, seeing his cousin arrive with reinforcements, felt as if he had been handed a lifeline and immediately pointed at Yang Fan.

“Huang Ma, it seems you’ve done well for yourself as the boss,” Yang Fan turned to him, his gaze cold.

Huang Ma had intended to order his men to attack, but when he saw Yang Fan’s face clearly, the words caught in his throat. He remembered Yang Fan all too well—how could he forget? He still vividly recalled how Gao Hong had died. In Huang Ma’s eyes, Yang Fan was a harbinger of doom, someone he could never afford to provoke.

“Mr. Yang, I didn’t expect it would be you,” Huang Ma said ingratiatingly, stepping forward to greet him, not daring to show a hint of displeasure for fear of offending him.

Everyone in the room was stunned, not just Zhou Yuansheng. What was going on? Huang Ma was showing Yang Fan the utmost respect.

“Who is he, really?” Zhang Qingya looked at Yang Fan, her heart full of bewilderment. To inspire such fear in the boss of the Black Tiger Society, Yang Fan’s identity had to be extraordinary.

Mo Chenxi’s expression was one of shock and curiosity.

“Huang Ma, I want your cousin’s arm. What do you say?” Yang Fan asked indifferently.

At Yang Fan’s demand for Zhou Yuansheng’s arm, Huang Ma’s heart skipped a beat. He glanced around the room, saw the men writhing on the floor, each missing an arm—clearly Yang Fan’s handiwork. Remembering what happened to his former boss, Gao Hong, a shiver ran down Huang Ma’s spine.

“Men, chop off Zhou Yuansheng’s arm,” Huang Ma ordered without hesitation.

“Cousin, don’t! I’m your family!” Zhou Yuansheng’s face was ashen as he cried out in terror. He had never imagined he would provoke someone so far beyond his ability to handle. If even Huang Ma was afraid, Yang Fan’s identity must be extraordinary. Zhou Yuansheng regretted it, but it was far too late.

“You needn’t do it yourselves. Let him do it himself,” Yang Fan said.

Huang Ma immediately signaled his men to stop and shot Zhou Yuansheng a meaningful look, urging him to obey—for it was the only way to save his own life. If Yang Fan acted, there would be only one outcome: death.