Yao Bing's father, Yao Donghu, general manager of Dongling Auto Company, was convinced that Li Bai was the culprit behind his son's madness and violent outbursts. In the end, he couldn't hold back any longer and secretly sent his men to kidnap Li Bai and bring him here, planning to personally avenge his son. Before one problem had even settled, another arose: his men suddenly discovered that the police were following leads through Dongling Auto Company's business partners, secretly investigating the source of the smuggled cars. They'd nearly traced it back to the warehouse. To eliminate this sudden threat, Yao Donghu had no choice but to devote all his attention to covering their tracks and tying up loose ends.
"Right. We can have some fun!"
Li Bai rose to his feet. His arms, bound tightly with thumb-thick hemp rope, slowly spread out to either side.
A burst of sharp cracks rang out. Under the Hundred Ghosts Night Parade Tattoo Man's wide-eyed stare, the ropes around Li Bai snapped one by one and fell to the floor.
"Y-you! Who are you?"
The Hundred Ghosts Night Parade Tattoo Man cried out in disbelief.
Everyone else in the warehouse, even the other two men who'd been tied up and brought here, looked as if they'd seen a ghost.
This wasn't a film or TV set, nor was it a special effects studio. That rope was thick as hell—not a bundle of noodles. How could someone simply shake his body and snap it?
"Qin Lao Er, what kind of rope did you buy? The quality's so bad it can't even hold a person."
The Hundred Ghosts Night Parade Tattoo Man suddenly turned his anger on his accomplice. If it was just a problem with the rope, then they'd only had a false alarm. Otherwise, there was no way all of them could take this guy on.
"N-no way. It's nylon. I used it to hoist stuff just yesterday. It can hold four or five hundred pounds, no problem."
Among the scowling men, one with triangular eyes stammered, his face full of uncertainty. A nylon rope this thick could bind a person, sure—but after four or five loops, it could even tie up a water buffalo so securely it couldn't move. How could it have snapped like that?
When the Hundred Ghosts Night Parade Tattoo Man heard his accomplice, the hairs on his back stood on end. Without hesitation, he drew the handgun tucked behind his butt and aimed it at Li Bai, who had freed himself from the ropes.
His vision suddenly blurred. A crisp smack sounded beside his ear, and he went flying sideways, stars bursting before his eyes.
"Next!"
Li Bai had appeared in front of the Hundred Ghosts Night Parade Tattoo Man at some point. He casually slapped him, sending the man—who weighed more than two hundred pounds—flying five or six meters before he crashed heavily to the ground, dazed and reeling.
The floor gave a dull thud and trembled slightly.
Although Li Bai had recovered only twenty percent of his martial arts cultivation, the Gang Qi he had refined was more than an ordinary strongman could withstand.
His accomplices stared, dumbfounded, unable to react for a long while. How could "The King," who had always commanded respect with his iron fists, have been knocked flat in a single blow?
The Hundred Ghosts Night Parade Tattoo Man struggled to get up, but couldn't help spitting out a mouthful of blood. Teeth scattered across the floor; that slap had knocked out half his molars.
"Huh! No signal?"
Li Bai took out his phone. To his surprise, there was no mobile reception. He didn't know if something was wrong with the phone or if there was simply no signal here, so he looked at the others.
"Could someone lend me a phone?"
Even an idiot could tell what the young man was trying to do. Most of the people working here had taken lives; they were desperate criminals. Why would they just sit around and wait for the police to come collect them?
They glanced toward the landline and then charged at Li Bai with wild yells.
Apart from the Hundred Ghosts Night Parade Tattoo Man, who carried a counterfeit handgun, the others could only grab knives, chains, and steel pipes in their haste.
But against Li Bai, none of that was remotely enough.
It was like a dozen toddlers who'd just learned to walk charging a hulking man. There could only be one outcome.
Their roars hadn't even died away before turning into shrill screams.
Their numbers gave them no advantage. Their eagerness to attack only brought humiliation. A chaotic barrage of thuds and crashes rang out as the desperate criminals grimaced, spat blood, and flew in every direction.
The square-faced man and the potbellied Boss Cui, both tied up on the floor, stared in shock. They hadn't even seen Li Bai move; those vicious men had already been knocked about like rolling gourds.
Nearly twenty men, and they couldn't even beat one person. What a joke—these people had risked their lives to smuggle cars?
When Li Bai walked toward him and Boss Cui, the square-faced man instinctively asked warily, "Who are you?"
Anyone capable of easily taking down a dozen men couldn't possibly be some nobody.
"I'm a psychologist. I specialize in treating anyone who refuses to behave!"
Li Bai flicked his toe. A knife shot past Boss Cui and the square-faced man, slicing through their ropes.
He said it with complete conviction.
Once upon a time, there was a man who thought he was hot stuff. Like Don Quixote charging at a windmill, he fearlessly challenged the psychologists. Then those ruthless psychologists cruelly removed his frontal lobes, and he was never hot stuff again.
If that guy had any sense from beyond the grave, next time he'd pick a fight with an old Chinese doctor.
Only psychologists would dare do something like that. The lobotomy, which had intimidated all of humanity for half a century like a nuclear weapon, wasn't gradually abandoned until after the 1970s.
So many heroes and brave men—all reduced to a laughing matter.
Psychology wasn't a modern discipline that had only developed over the past century. It had deep roots. A hundred years ago, it was still called philosophy, and its origins could be traced back to the fourth century BC—older even than Confucianism, which had "banished the Hundred Schools and honored Confucianism alone."
If the men Li Bai had casually knocked down were thrown into the "harem" of the Seventh People's Hospital, they wouldn't last two episodes if they didn't behave.
Although Li Bai had honestly told them the truth, the two men who had helped each other out of their ropes looked at him as if to say, Don't try to fool us.
"Hello, 110? I'd like to report a crime. There's a group of car smugglers here, and they've kidnapped people, too. Send someone over right away—bring several criminal investigators. They have guns. I don't know the address, either. Could you check the line number through the telecom bureau?"
After calmly making the call, Li Bai walked back over.
He'd originally planned to teach the endlessly troublesome Yao Family a lesson himself. But now, the warehouse full of smuggled cars was enough to land them in serious trouble. And with kidnapping police officers involved, they were completely finished.
Since the police would handle it, Li Bai was happy to let them. Still, he needed to do a few more things to minimize his own trouble.
He raised his hand.
"Ladies and gentlemen!"
Snap!
Just as the smuggling criminals rolling around on the floor and Boss Cui and the square-faced man all turned to look at Li Bai, the snap of his fingers rang out. Everyone's mind went blank for a moment.
By the time they came to, they shook their dizzy heads, but Li Bai had already disappeared from the warehouse full of smuggled luxury cars.
There were hostages and smugglers here; one more person made no difference, and one less person made no difference either. Naturally, they simply left. They even forgot completely whether Li Bai had ever been here.
The Spiritual Power Li Bai had cultivated through the Maha Bolan Sutra had brought his hypnosis close to perfection. With a casual gesture, he could slip deep into his subjects' minds without them even noticing.
The square-faced man was puzzled about how he and Boss Cui had gotten free, and why the smugglers were lying limp on the floor like dead dogs, moaning weakly. He couldn't remember anything after being brought into the warehouse. But he quickly took action, gathering the scattered weapons and using short lengths of rope to tie the criminals' wrists and ankles together, trussing them up like pigs.
Although there were still things he couldn't explain, the square-faced man was sure of one thing: he'd cracked a massive smuggling case.
I left quietly,
just as quietly as I came.
I waved my sleeves,
and took not a wisp of cloud—just a Santana 2000.
A dust-covered Santana 2000 drove onto the highway. Li Bai headed back to Huxi City. His phone regained reception not long after he left the warehouse, and he quickly found the way back using an electronic map.
He had no interest in going to the Public Security Bureau to give a statement. He just wanted to hurry home, cook, and continue cultivating. He also needed to keep an eye on that Azure Flood Dragon Demoness, in case she got up to something troublesome again when he wasn't looking.
After fifteen minutes on the highway, a convoy of police cars roared past in the opposite lanes. The last two Ford police armored vehicles had SWAT printed in white letters against black on their sides. As they passed, he caught a glimpse of armed figures through the windows.
Li Bai's call had clearly drawn the authorities' attention.
Send all your recommendation tickets my way!
Before you continue