Zhang Yang's Silent Rebuke

Once they were in the car, Chang Wu felt a wave of lingering fear. Thank goodness he hadn't held a grudge against Zhang Yang and joined forces with someone to get back at him. Otherwise, the consequences were easy to imagine: Zhang Yang would have torn his arm off too.

The black Mercedes G-Class drove past the people sprawled on the road. In moments, only its taillights remained, flashing with a mocking glow.

"Fuck your mother..." Scarface spat. He looked at his dozen or so groaning underlings and cursed through clenched teeth. "You're all fucking useless. That many of you couldn't beat one man."

After cursing them out, Scarface gave a bitter, self-mocking laugh. "Then again, I even pulled a fucking gun and fired a shot, and I still couldn't do a damn thing to him."

Scarface kept swearing. He couldn't swallow this humiliation. But there was always someone stronger out there. Every force had its match.

It was a long while before the underlings Jiao Long had knocked down slowly helped one another to their feet. None was seriously hurt, but they had taken a beating. Their whole bodies ached as though their bones had been broken.

Zhang Yang's car had already entered Gong City. He didn't take tonight's events to heart. They were just a minor episode. As for making enemies, he couldn't always avoid it. They had come after him; hiding wasn't an option. Once they picked a fight, he had no reason to hold back.

"Boss, are you still selling the Bronze Zun?" Chang Wu held Zhang Yang in awe, but he acted normally enough. Now was his chance to be useful. The Bronze Zun was back in Zhang Yang's hands, and it was worth so much. Why not sell it?

Zhang Yang answered without hesitation.