Chapter Ten: I Was Talking About Mahjong

Xiao Cheng took a small white bottle from his pouch and slipped it into his pocket. Qiao Yifeng assumed it was a remedy for sobering up and paid no attention.

When the two stepped out of the private room, Qiao Yifeng’s expression darkened instantly. Earlier that afternoon, Xiao Cheng had slapped him, and he had endured it, hoping to avoid unnecessary complications and to preserve his plan to drug someone that evening. Yet now, Xiao Cheng had ruined his scheme, and there was no longer any reason for him to restrain himself.

He had spent considerable time preparing this plan. To lure Fang Yujia out, he invested heavily—even the two CML2 tablets had been acquired with great difficulty from "Third Master." Now, all his preparations had been wasted by this arrogant scion, and he could not swallow his indignation.

Xiao Cheng walked ahead, but Qiao Yifeng’s shifting mood did not escape his spiritual awareness; he saw everything clearly. Xiao Cheng smirked dismissively, unconcerned.

He was genuinely curious where Qiao Yifeng had acquired the CML2 tablets. As far as he knew, in the entire city of Shanghai, only he could obtain such pills; they were not something ordinary people could access. Even at their North American origin, they were rare, and Qiao Yifeng’s pills were evidently from earlier batches, as CML2 had long since ceased production.

Qiao Yifeng signaled a waiter, and soon two burly men with ostentatious tattoos appeared behind him. Xiao Cheng, walking ahead, remained utterly unbothered. Under his spiritual scrutiny, these men revealed themselves as nothing more than hired thugs who had practiced external martial arts for a few years.

His spiritual sense was akin to a thermal imaging device, showing the strength of a person’s internal energy through varying shades. The brighter the color, the stronger the individual. These two merely glowed slightly brighter than ordinary people.

Following Qiao Yifeng’s lead, Xiao Cheng entered the restroom.

Qiao Yifeng beckoned the two heavies inside, then quietly closed the door. With a confident, mocking tone, he said, “Young Master Xiao, how are you feeling now?”

Qiao Yifeng didn’t truly understand CML2; he guessed its effects should be starting. He was genuinely curious what would happen to a man after taking such a drug—would he react as a woman did...?

Contrary to his expectations, when Xiao Cheng turned and saw the two large men behind him, he displayed not a hint of surprise, as if he had known all along. Qiao Yifeng chalked it up to Xiao Cheng being drunk and muddled, not suspecting anything.

“You’re very curious, aren’t you?” Xiao Cheng smiled. No one knew CML2’s effects better than he did—it took at least twenty minutes to kick in, so there was no need to worry yet.

Moments ago, Xiao Cheng had feigned drunkenness, his head lolling. Now, Qiao Yifeng noticed that Xiao Cheng’s eyes were clear and sharp, showing no sign of intoxication.

But even if Xiao Cheng had only pretended to be drunk, what did it matter? Qiao Yifeng didn’t believe the drug wouldn’t work, especially since he had his muscle ready.

Determined to teach Xiao Cheng a lesson tonight—though he wouldn’t dare kill him, crippling was certainly possible. He could always blame it on the underworld; after all, Xiao Cheng was always causing trouble, so retaliation would seem perfectly normal. Even if Xiao Cheng knew who was responsible, with his reputation, who would believe him?

“To be honest, I put something in the fruit wine I gave you earlier—a drug you’ve never seen before. So tell me, how do you feel now? Is your whole body burning, your spirit ablaze?”

Qiao Yifeng burst into laughter as he spoke. His once handsome face twisted into a grotesque, savage grin, and the two thugs behind him cackled along.

“Since you’re so curious, I’ll make sure you experience it firsthand soon enough.”

Xiao Cheng truly found this amusing. CML2 was nothing to him—he’d played with it before.

“Hmph, still stubborn with death at your door. Don’t think being from a hidden clan gives you license to act out—what are those clans now, anyway? Your era is over. Besides, you have no real strength, not even my equal. Let me tell you, I’m a seventh-degree black belt in taekwondo.

You’re nothing but a wastrel living off your family. What do you have besides your clan’s protection? Without it, you’d have died a hundred times over. Tonight, I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget!”

Qiao Yifeng had longed to say these words since Xiao Cheng slapped him that afternoon. Now, saying them, he felt a rush of satisfaction.

“Get him!” Qiao Yifeng commanded, catching his breath and addressing the two heavies.

Xiao Cheng’s eyes narrowed, a cold smile curling his lips. Qiao Yifeng’s words described the reality of his previous life, but he was no longer that person, and such words could not anger him.

The two thugs chuckled, advancing on Xiao Cheng, their knuckles cracking. They were about to taunt him, but before they could utter a word, Xiao Cheng charged at them.

He summoned his true energy and used his spiritual sense to disrupt their minds. Both men froze momentarily, and Xiao Cheng seized the opportunity, his palms infused with energy, striking at their necks.

The entire exchange happened in the blink of an eye. With two sharp slaps, the heavies’ eyes rolled back, blood trickled from their ears and noses, and they collapsed, staring blankly at the restroom’s fluorescent light, never comprehending how someone could move so swiftly.

With a single palm strike, Xiao Cheng had snapped both their necks—a fatal injury.

Qiao Yifeng stared in shock, his mind blank. Two men had died before him in just one move.

Though he had done plenty of wicked things, he had never killed anyone or seen death up close. In truth, he was merely a clever man who had never witnessed real bloodshed.

Qiao Yifeng took a long moment to recover, his body trembling. If not for a bit of composure, he might have wet himself in fright.

He couldn’t understand it—Xiao Guowei had assured him that Xiao Cheng had little power, and his own inquiries confirmed it. Xiao Cheng was stronger than most, but nowhere near a match for two heavies. Yet now, Xiao Cheng had dispatched them effortlessly—what kind of strength was this?

Moreover, Xiao Cheng had killed two men without blinking, clearly no stranger to murder.

Qiao Yifeng was aghast—he had just boasted of being a seventh-degree black belt.

“Well then, let’s see your taekwondo, Young Master Qiao!”

Taekwondo? In Xiao Cheng’s eyes, it was a joke—a flashy art cobbled together from stolen traditions. It might be formidable for ordinary folk, but to him, it meant nothing.

Xiao Cheng couldn’t be bothered to waste words; he kicked Qiao Yifeng hard in the chest. Qiao Yifeng’s face flushed bright red, his features contorted in agony. Xiao Cheng twisted him around and took out the white pill bottle from his pocket.

“You’ve got some nerve, trying to use such tricks against my sister-in-law! But these schemes are nothing to me. I could gather a full mahjong table of women I’ve drugged.”

Qiao Yifeng instinctively thought—a mahjong table only seats four... But Xiao Cheng added,

“I mean a mahjong’s mahjong!”

——

[Rolling on the floor—begging for recommendations, favorites, anything! Brothers, just add to your favorites, thank you!]