"Han Feihu gave me the idea, suggesting I go to the hospital a few times to stir up trouble and give you a taste of what's coming. He figured you'd likely just hand yourself over to us!"
"And look at that—it only took one visit for you to deliver yourself right to my door!"
"Tell me, don't you think that brother-in-law of yours is brilliant?"
Huang Shuyue burst into laughter as he spoke. He loved the feeling of having everything completely under his control.
Chen Wanli nodded. "He is quite clever. If it weren't for his help, I wouldn't have been able to find my way here."
"???" Huang Shuyue’s expression turned cold. "You’re a cocky little brat, aren't you? What kind of background do you have, or what kind of capital do you think you’re working with, to dare speak to me like that?"
"Isn't it only natural for debts to be repaid?"
"Natural? Sure, but anyone who gets innocent people involved deserves a beating! As for me, I have no 'background,' but I am someone you can't afford to provoke," Chen Wanli said, shrugging.
"Then let me see if you actually have the capital to back up your arrogance!"
Huang Shuyue took a step back and waved his hand. The thugs, armed with clubs, swarmed forward in a pack.
A sharp glint flashed in Chen Wanli’s eyes. He lunged toward the man at the front, grabbed the baseball bat, and snapped it with a reverse twist.
The bat fell into Chen Wanli’s hand instantly.
Wielding the club, Chen Wanli swung left and right. It looked chaotic, but every movement was precise and ruthless. Despite being surrounded by dozens of men, he not only dodged their attacks but moved the bat as if it had eyes, striking a man with every swing—whether it was their head, chest, arm, or leg.
His strikes were tricky and vicious; once hit, a man either collapsed on the spot or ended up with broken bones.
In the blink of an eye, eighteen or so weapon-wielding thugs lay scattered across the ground.
The expression on Huang Shuyue’s face grew increasingly grave. He Laosan, standing behind him, could no longer hide his shock. These thugs weren't the elite, but every one of them was a battle-hardened fighter.
"It seems I underestimated you!" Huang Shuyue turned toward the courtyard and roared, "A Meng, get to work!"
Chen Wanli looked toward the gate and saw a burly man looking down from the second-floor balcony of the villa. Seeing the thugs littering the ground at the entrance, he didn't show a flicker of emotion, only looking at Chen Wanli calmly.
Then, he leaped from the second-floor balcony, landed gracefully in the courtyard, and strode toward the gate.
He moved with incredible speed, reaching Chen Wanli in a few long strides. Wearing only a tank top, his body was covered in bulging muscles, his arms as thick as another man's thighs, with a jagged scar across his face that made him look terrifying.
Leaping from over three meters high and landing with such ease and stability—he was a true martial artist.
Chen Wanli assessed him. Far from being panicked, he felt a spark of excitement.
"Kid, kneel and apologize to Fifth Master, and I’ll spare your life—I'll only break your four limbs!"
A Meng chuckled. He had been sentenced to prison after injuring an instructor while in the military; after Fifth Master Huang bailed him out, he became Huang Shuyue’s most capable bodyguard. He had once helped Huang Shuyue survive an ambush by forty or fifty men.
Seeing A Meng arrive, the others began to shout, "Brother Meng, finish him off! Avenge us!"
Huang Shuyue regained his confidence. "I’ve dominated the underworld for decades. What do you think I relied on?"
A Meng cracked his knuckles, then slammed a fist forward, the punch whistling with raw power.
Chen Wanli stepped forward, caught the fist with one hand, and smiled at Huang Shuyue, unfazed. "You just relied on being lucky!"
A Meng’s face changed instantly. The force of his punch could shatter a standard steel-reinforced door, yet this kid had blocked it so nonchalantly.
A Meng felt his fist go slightly numb. He pulled it back, flexed his wrist, and looked at Chen Wanli with a touch of caution. "So you're a practitioner. No wonder you’re so arrogant."
"Let's play for real now!"
A Meng grinned viciously, pulled a pair of brass knuckles from his pocket, and threw another punch, even heavier than the last, aimed straight at Chen Wanli’s temple.
"I actually overestimated you," Chen Wanli shook his head. He had trained hard for three years but had never truly sparred with another martial artist. When he first saw A Meng, he thought he might get a decent practice session. But he hadn't even used half his strength, and this guy already lacked the power to trade even one blow.
Chen Wanli didn't dodge or weave. He waited until A Meng was right in front of him, then lashed out with a kick.
The kick moved faster than the punch, landing squarely on A Meng’s chest.
Just like that, Huang Shuyue’s top fighter was sent flying backward, landing heavily over two meters away.
"A Meng, are you alright?" Huang Shuyue shouted.
A Meng only let out a few groans; he couldn't get back up.
Chen Wanli took a step forward, closing in on Huang Shuyue. "Tell me, am I someone you can't afford to provoke?"
Huang Shuyue’s face turned from blue to purple. He hadn't expected that after his dozen thugs had worn Chen Wanli down, even his most powerful fighter would lose so miserably!
"Kid, you can fight, I’ll give you that! But in this day and age, being able to fight is useless!"
"Can you fight a gun? Can you fight a bomb?"
"There have been people better at fighting than you in the past, but they've all disappeared. Do you know why?"
As Huang Shuyue spoke, he felt his confidence returning. Years ago, a master had challenged him, only for Huang to take him out with a sneak bullet and have him thrown in prison.
"I can send you to prison with a single word, get your wife fired, and ruin your father-in-law’s medicinal herb base!"
Huang Shuyue thought he had intimidated Chen Wanli. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag. He had dominated Nanbin City not just because his men were fierce, but because he had powerful people backing him.
Chen Wanli looked at Huang Shuyue coldly and said softly, "You’re right. You’ve reminded me of something."
"You might be able to do all those things, but I can kill you right now!"
As the words left his lips, Chen Wanli lunged forward and gripped Huang Shuyue’s throat. A slight squeeze was all it took for Huang Shuyue’s face to turn bright red.
"Tell me, if I crush your windpipe right now, can you still do any of those things?"
Everyone was stunned. Was this kid actually going to kill him?!
"..." Huang Shuyue struggled frantically, but under Chen Wanli’s iron grip, his movements were as powerless as a baby’s.
Just then, Chen Wanli’s phone rang and rang. He answered it...
...
Chapter 11: A Hidden Master!
Chen Wanli gripped Huang Shuyue with one hand and answered the phone with the other.
On the other end was Song Siming. Chen Wanli had promised to go to the hospital, but he hadn't shown up.
"Mr. Chen, you haven't arrived yet, have you? Jiaojiao is insisting on being discharged. Would it be alright if I sent someone to pick you up and bring you to my place?"
Chen Wanli spoke into the phone, "My apologies, I was delayed by something. Send a car to the Huang Mansion to pick me up."
Song Siming was a shrewd man. As soon as he heard "Huang Mansion," he knew what kind of place it was, and immediately said, "Mr. Chen, have you run into some trouble? Do you need me to resolve it..."
Chen Wanli said it wasn't necessary and hung up.
Suffocating, Huang Shuyue’s face was now flushed purple, and his struggles were growing weaker.
Everyone present watched Chen Wanli in terror. A Meng struggled several times to get up and save his boss, but with three broken ribs, his spirit was willing but his body was failing him.
"Madman, you’re a complete madman!" A Meng muttered.
They weren't people who had never killed before, but they would never dare to kill someone with Huang Shuyue’s social standing in broad daylight like this—it would be impossible to escape the consequences.
"Brother, no—Big Brother, Master, it really doesn't have to come to this! At the end of the day, it was just a small misunderstanding!"
He Laosan’s face turned white with fear; he dropped to his knees and began kowtowing to Chen Wanli like a machine.
A Meng also came to his senses and said, "Brother, with your skills, wealth and glory are yours for the taking. Why trade your life for his?"
"Boss Huang was reckless this time. I’ll make him kowtow and admit his guilt to you! It’s better to make friends than enemies. In Nanbin City, having Boss Huang as a friend can help you solve a lot of problems!"
"Is that so?" Chen Wanli asked nonchalantly.
"Yes, yes! As long as you spare him, from now on, I, he, all of them—including Boss Huang—will be willing to serve you!" A Meng said quickly, seeing Huang Shuyue’s eyes rolling back in his head, clearly nearing the end.
Chen Wanli curled his lip and released his grip. Huang Shuyue fell to the ground, gasping for air, weeping and coughing violently.
"Is that so?" Chen Wanli looked at Huang Shuyue with a mocking smile.
"Yes, yes, yes! From now on, I am at your service!" Huang Shuyue was a man who knew how to bend when necessary.
Chen Wanli sneered, "At my service? See if you can live long enough for that day first. You have horizontal lines across your philtrum, a sign of a shortened life, and your brow is shadowed with a dark tint beneath the red. Your fate is a mix of good and bad."
"The good—the red light—has already manifested on me. The black will surely manifest for you as well. There are three black markings, one of which has already come true regarding my involvement. You have at least two more calamities ahead. If you survive them, you’ll soar to the clouds; if you don’t, you’ll be reincarnated on the spot!"
Huang Shuyue’s eyes widened. What did that mean? He had to serve Chen Wanli to survive? Was this a threat? Thinking of this, Huang Shuyue felt a surge of rage; he hadn't made it this far just to be someone’s dog!
Before long, a Rolls-Royce slowly drove toward the gate. Everyone’s eyes turned toward it. Huang Shuyue raised his eyelids; only a handful of people in Nanbin City could afford to drive such a car.
The car stopped, and Song Siming stepped out.
Seeing the wreckage everywhere, a flash of shock crossed Song Siming’s face. Then he saw Chen Wanli standing there, refreshed and composed, while Huang Shuyue was in a disheveled mess, which only deepened his inner surprise. When he called, he had guessed that Chen Wanli might have clashed with Fifth Master Huang, which was why he had come personally. But he had guessed the beginning, not the end.
"Mr. Chen, are you... alright?" Song Siming asked.
Chen Wanli nodded and said directly, "Let's go."
Song Siming nodded, but said with a hint of meaning, "Do you need me to help you clean up the aftermath?"
"No need!"
Huang Shuyue was stunned. He had status and backers, but compared to Song Siming, the wealthiest man in Nanbin, he was nothing! While Song Siming couldn't erase him with a single word, with his financial power, he could make life worse than death for him. Money was not something to be trifled with!
If Song Siming treated Chen Wanli with such respect, what exactly was this kid’s background?
It wasn't until the Rolls-Royce pulled away that Huang Shuyue regained his composure.
"Boss, this Chen Wanli... we cannot afford to offend him," A Meng said, frowning as he was helped up.
"Yes... yes. He Laosan, take the men who were there that day and go apologize to the Tang family!" Huang Shuyue had made up his mind on the spot.
As he spoke, he walked toward the gate. Just as he reached the threshold, for some unknown reason, the plaque hanging above the entrance suddenly fell.
The heavy board brushed against Huang Shuyue’s scalp, slicing it open and sending blood streaming down his face. If A Meng hadn't had the quick reflexes to kick him into the courtyard, he would have been struck dead right there!
Huang Shuyue, face covered in blood, locked eyes with A Meng. Both remembered what Chen Wanli had just said. It wasn't a threat; it was a prophecy!
"Damn it... He Laosan, prepare the gifts. I’m going to apologize to the Tang family in person..."
...
Song Siming saw Chen Wanli in a new light. After he had treated Song Jiaojiao, he had investigated him. To be honest, he had been operating under the "grasping at straws" mentality when he let Chen Wanli treat his daughter's depression.
But now, he felt a bit of curiosity and an inexplicable trust in Chen Wanli. Humans are simply more inclined to trust the strong!
Who was Huang Shuyue? He was an underworld tyrant who had entrenched himself in Nanbin City for years. Yet, Chen Wanli had marched up to his door with nothing but his bare hands, and by the looks of it, he had beaten Huang Shuyue into submission.
That kind of skill and ruthless efficiency was not something an ordinary person possessed.
The young man was truly a hidden master!
The Song family villa was located in the largest villa park in Nanbin. It was a six-story building, grand in decor and elegant in layout, with an air of understated luxury.
Following Song Siming inside, Song Jiaojiao was nowhere to be seen in the living room; there was only a noblewoman with an incredibly elegant and wealthy aura.
The woman scanned Chen Wanli up and down, a look of skepticism appearing in her eyes. He was too young; he probably hadn't even finished his doctorate, so how good could his medical skills be?
"Song Siming, is this the doctor you found?" the woman asked, looking at Song Siming.
Chen Wanli raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
Song Siming nodded. "Jiaojiao was nearly misdiagnosed at the hospital. It was Mr. Chen who spotted the problem and saved her life by intervening in time."
He then introduced them: "This is my ex-wife, Huangfu Rong."
Chen Wanli gave a slight nod, considering it a greeting.
Huangfu Rong was displeased. She came from a distinguished background, and even after divorcing Song Siming, everyone usually fawned over her. Was Chen Wanli’s cold, arrogant posture a sign of disrespect because she was an ex-wife?
"Depression is a psychological illness. You say he’s a TCM doctor? I’ve never heard of TCM treating depression!" Huangfu Rong voiced her skepticism directly.
Song Siming frowned. "Watch your tongue! Mr. Chen has his own expertise. Even the national master Li Jiang recognizes his medical skills!"
"Expertise? A green kid like that—how much expertise can he have?" Huangfu Rong persisted.
Song Siming knew his ex-wife’s stubborn temperament, so he couldn't be bothered to argue. "Mr. Chen, Jiaojiao is in her room upstairs. I’ll take you up!"
"I won't allow him to see Jiaojiao!" Huangfu Rong stood in their way.
Just as the two were about to argue again, Song Jiaojiao’s voice came through the intercom: "Let him up!"
...
Chapter 12: Then, Die First!
Song Siming shot Huangfu Rong a glare and led Chen Wanli straight to the elevator to the sixth floor.
"When Jiaojiao first got this illness, it didn't seem like much, but then she became increasingly unwilling to see people, her mood swings grew more erratic, and eventually, she started attempting suicide!"
"Besides depression, the psychiatrist says she also has bipolar disorder!"
Song Siming briefly explained Song Jiaojiao’s condition in the elevator. Chen Wanli nodded to show he understood.
When they reached the door to Song Jiaojiao’s room, a cold voice came from inside: "Doctor Chen can come in. You stay outside!"
Song Siming gave a bitter smile and cupped his hands in a gesture of apology toward Chen Wanli. Chen Wanli nodded and pushed the door open to enter.
Song Jiaojiao was sitting on the windowsill, her back to Chen Wanli, her slender frame leaning against the wall. She was a great beauty, but her beautiful face was devoid of color, carrying a heartbreaking pallor. Her eyes were fixed on the scenery outside, but her gaze was hollow and lifeless.
The wind from the window made her hair dance, but she lacked any of the vitality a girl her age should possess.
After he entered, Song Jiaojiao didn't speak, as if she had forgotten Chen Wanli’s presence.
"Let’s start with some acupuncture," Chen Wanli said, taking out the needles Song Siming had prepared.
Song Jiaojiao turned back to look at him. What a look it was—despair, despondency, not a shred of longing for life.
"No need. Stay in the room for a while, then leave. My father will pay your fee!"
Chen Wanli went, "Oh. So you don't believe in me?"
Song Jiaojiao looked at Chen Wanli as if he were an idiot. "TCM treating depression? My dad is clutching at straws, and you’re just trying to make a quick buck. No need to put on an act here; I won't play along."
"I saved you at the hospital."
"I know."
"You should at least say thank you."
"Oh. Thank you."
Chen Wanli frowned. Song Jiaojiao’s reaction was too cold; she had almost no will to live.
"So, you just want to die to find relief?"
Song Jiaojiao looked at Chen Wanli with mockery. She had undergone many talk-therapy sessions with psychologists! She had no interest in debating with Chen Wanli, and she certainly didn't believe talk therapy—especially from a TCM doctor—could have any miraculous effect.
Chen Wanli walked over to the window and smiled. "Wanting to die? That’s easy. I’ll help you."
"???" Song Jiaojiao looked at Chen Wanli in surprise.
"Your father probably didn't tell you, but before yesterday, I was a mental patient myself!" Chen Wanli said.
"???" Song Jiaojiao watched as Chen Wanli pushed the window open, her delicate brows knitting together.
"If you want to die, just jump," Chen Wanli pointed to the open window.
"So you also think depression is just being dramatic? Being spoiled? Not being able to let go?" Song Jiaojiao looked at him.
Depression made her body suffer unbearable pain, and her spirit was even more ravaged. The outside world only thought depression was pessimism and world-weariness, never knowing that the body itself suffered excruciating pain.
Countless nights, she would suffer throughout her entire body, unable to fall asleep, enduring night after night of insomnia. Even sleeping pills couldn't give her a moment's rest. She felt pessimistic, loathed the world, felt everything was meaningless, and felt she no longer had any curiosity about anything in this world. This pathological state was something normal people couldn't imagine.
Chen Wanli shook his head. "I want to treat you, but you only want to die."
"Since that’s the case, then die first!"
As the words fell, Chen Wanli suddenly grabbed Song Jiaojiao and leaped out of the window.
"..."
Song Jiaojiao’s mind went blank. Was her father paying a doctor or an assassin? This was the sixth floor—falling meant almost certain death or, at best, permanent paralysis.
The wind roared in her ears, her body in free fall. The hand of the man around her waist held her tightly, but it didn't matter anymore!
In that moment, the word "relief" flashed through Song Jiaojiao’s mind, followed by an instinctive will to survive. But it was all too late!
Everything was over!
However, just as she closed her eyes, waiting for the end of her life, she felt a sudden jerk.
She opened her eyes and saw an incredible sight: Chen Wanli was holding her waist with one hand and gripping the edge of the second-floor balcony with the other.
"..." Song Jiaojiao’s mouth hung open in shock.
"You’ve died once already. Can we go back up and do the acupuncture now?"