Don't Let Old Fang Hear (Seeking Follow-ups)

After recovering, Guo Ziming looked at Fang Shuwen, who was stuffing silver dollars into his pocket, with a face full of shock, unable to stop himself from retreating.

Was this really his lackey, Little Fang?

No, this wasn't Little Fang; this was Brother Fang!

His actions were so crisp and decisive; he didn't strike until necessary.

And once he did, he broke a man's arm without a single wasted movement.

It was even more efficient than the guards at his own home.

Fang Shuwen brushed the dust off his hands and tucked all the silver dollars into his pocket.

He picked up the bag of lime from the ground and weighed it; there was still plenty left inside.

Having witnessed the power of this thing, it was truly a great tool for a fight.

As for the two ruffians lying on the ground, having lost their ability to fight, he didn't intend to continue attacking them.

Young Master Guo was still standing nearby, and he couldn't very well kill someone right in front of him.

After all, Guo Ziming's status was not simple.

If he were to kill them to silence them, trouble would inevitably follow.

With his current strength and status, he couldn't withstand the Guo Family.

Besides, not killing them didn't mean he had no way to make these two disappear.

Thinking of this, Fang Shuwen stood up and walked toward Guo Ziming.

"Holy crap!"

"Old Fang, Brother Fang, don't come over here, I'm scared!"

Guo Ziming retreated to the base of the wall, his face full of fear, his chubby body trembling.

He used to call him Little Fang, but now he was calling him Brother Fang.

"Stand still."

Fang Shuwen's voice wasn't loud, but it nailed Guo Ziming to the spot.

Guo Ziming's legs were cramping, but he braced himself to keep from collapsing, his lips trembling as he squeezed out a smile that looked worse than crying:

"Brother... Brother Fang, you speak, you speak, I'm listening."

Fang Shuwen stopped three steps away from him and lightly tossed the bag of lime in his hand.

"Young Master Guo, how do you intend to wrap up today's business?"

Guo Ziming was stunned; his eyes darted around as he tentatively said:

"Understood, understood, I guarantee these two will never appear before you again, Brother Fang."

"Good that you understand."

Fang Shuwen stuffed the bag of lime into his pocket and smiled at Guo Ziming.

That smile, in Guo Ziming's eyes, made his heart crawl with dread.

Guo Ziming nodded vigorously, his chubby face piled with a fawning smile, though cold sweat had already soaked his clothes through to his back.

Fang Shuwen said no more and turned to walk toward the alley entrance.

He took two steps, then stopped.

Guo Ziming had just let out half a breath, but seeing this, he immediately tensed up again.

Fang Shuwen didn't look back, only dropping a single sentence: "Right, once things are handled, I'll treat you to tea another day."

Guo Ziming was stunned for a moment, then said repeatedly: "No need, no need."

His voice was high and hurried, as if he feared that if he spoke too slowly, Fang Shuwen would change his mind.

Fang Shuwen didn't respond, his footsteps steady and unhurried as his figure was swallowed bit by bit by the twilight at the alley's mouth.

Guo Ziming stood where he was, looking in that direction, not moving for a long time.

It wasn't until Fang Shuwen's footsteps had completely vanished into the noise of the street that he slammed back against the wall, as if all his strength had been drained away, and slid down along the base of the wall.

Before long, A-Da gradually recovered, crawling over with squinted, swollen eyes, and hurriedly tried to help him up: "Young Master, are you alright?"

Guo Ziming slapped his hand away and took a deep breath.

"Go."

He tilted his chin toward A-Da and A-Er, his voice low:

"Find Old Zhao and bring a few men over to take these two ruffians away. Keep it clean, and don't leave any loose ends."

A-Da was stunned: "Young Master, where should we take them?"

Guo Ziming looked down at the two ruffians still groaning on the ground, his gaze as if he were looking at two pieces of obstructive trash:

"Throw them at the police station. Tell them they attacked this young master."

A-Da felt a chill in his heart; it seemed his master had no intention of going after that man surnamed Fang again.

Guo Ziming stood where he was, brushing the dust off his hem.

He then fished a clean handkerchief from his sleeve and began to slowly, methodically wipe the cold sweat from his forehead.

Once finished, he folded the handkerchief and tucked it back into his sleeve, his mouth twitching slightly as he watched the two ruffians being dragged away by A-Da and A-Er.

Fang Shuwen, oh Fang Shuwen.

He recalled the days back on Chessboard Street, when he would bark orders at him, calling him "Little Fang," making him pour tea, run errands, and save chess tables for him.

Back then, Fang Shuwen would always accompany him with a fawning smile, never refusing, looking both spineless and easy to bully.

Yet today, he realized that the Little Fang who had been so subservient before him was more ruthless in a fight than the bodyguards his family paid a fortune to hire.

To think he had such a vicious side.

And to top it off, the brat possessed such formidable strength!

Guo Ziming shuddered.

West Street, National Martial Arts Hall.

From the outside, it was a Western-style building imitating the Prok style.

Arched porticos, carved stone pillars, and rounded domes stood in stark contrast to the drab, traditional Chinese houses in Xikou.

Fang Shuwen walked up the steps and pushed open the heavy, bronze-framed glass door; a scent mixed with medicinal herbs, printer's ink, and old wood rushed to meet him.

The lobby was busier than he had imagined.

To the left was a long row of wooden counters, with several enamel signs hanging above them.

Written in red characters on a white background were labels like "Registration," "Skill Assessment," "Resource Exchange," and "Bounty Notices."

A short queue had formed under each sign.

In the center of the lobby, several benches were occupied by people waiting.

Some were whispering to each other, while others sat with their eyes closed, resting.

Two men in gray clothes were huddled together, flipping through a thin booklet, muttering words like "Bright Force," "Dark Force," and "Transformation Force."

Fang Shuwen had been here before.

He navigated the bustling lobby with ease, heading straight for a window near the back.

"Two pieces of low-grade Ghost Jade."

"Forty silver dollars."

"Fine."

Fang Shuwen paid quickly, and the clerk placed a wooden box on the table containing about thirty pieces of Ghost Jade, all roughly the same size but varying in color.

"You're in luck. This shipment just arrived today and hasn't even been put on the shelves yet. You can only take two; pick them yourself."

Fang Shuwen lowered his gaze, reached out to sense them for a moment, and picked out two pieces.

Even among low-grade Ghost Jade, there were subtle differences.

He chose the two pieces with the densest ghostly energy.

If not for his cheat, Fang Shuwen would never have been able to tell the difference.

Fang Shuwen wrapped the two chosen pieces of low-grade Ghost Jade in cloth, tucked them into his inner pocket, and nodded at the old man behind the window.

He turned, walked through the lobby, and pushed the door open to exit the National Martial Arts Hall.

The night wind blew in with a chill; he took a deep breath, identified his direction, and headed home.

Passing by a roast chicken shop, he spent his last silver dollar to buy two roast chickens to take back as an extra meal for Old Fang.

Fang Shuwen walked at a brisk pace and soon reached the back gate of the Zhao Estate.

Just as he reached out to push the door, he heard a woman's voice, full of vigor, coming from inside:

"Our Cuicui said that this time, he will definitely get into the Elite Class!"

It was Mother Wang, as expected.

Bragging about her Cuicui again.

Fang Shuwen pushed the door open and entered, seeing several people in the backyard.

Mother Wang stood in the middle of the yard, next to an honest-looking man—her husband.

However, her husband, Wang Cheng, did not work at the Zhao Estate; he farmed in the countryside.

You must have come over today because of the exams.

On the other side stood the burly Hu Da, along with two other long-term laborers who worked at the Zhao Estate.

Old Fang was nowhere to be seen, and there was no telling where he had gone.

Fang Shuwen did not take it to heart.

Just then, Mother Wang's voice rang out once more.

"As for Little Fang, I reckon he's in trouble this time. My Cuicui told me he failed his physical education exam and ran off early. He hasn't come back this late, so he's probably too ashamed to show his face."

"Shh! Don't let Old Fang hear you."