Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Professional Soldier

Heipi yanked forcefully, pulling the shutter down again and locking it tight. He seemed utterly fearless, showing no concern for the two newcomers. He said, “You two, don’t take it personally. There’s going to be a killing here tonight. Since you dared come in, don’t blame me for what happens.”

He coughed twice, then turned to Wang Wu, “You really are an idiot. You got away, yet you came back…” He broke off mid-sentence, suddenly noticing the person beside Wang Wu was Wen Jiangxi. Instantly, he froze, rooted to the spot.

“Heipi, what’s got you stunned?” Another of Wen Jiangxi’s old acquaintances stepped out from a shadowy corner, iron rod in hand, swaggering with an air of menace. The moment he recognized Wen Jiangxi, his expression mirrored Heipi’s—his legs buckled involuntarily, as if gripped by fear.

“Well, well, Heipi, Seventh Brother, so it’s you two?” Wen Jiangxi chuckled, eyes darting around the room. If the lead driver was here too, tonight’s fight would be a tough one—he was a man shrouded in mystery, and Wen Jiangxi wasn’t sure if Wang Wu and his old company commander could handle him.

“Wang Wu, he’s just a kid. Why did you bring him here?” The old company commander’s tone was faintly reproachful. As he spoke, Wen Jiangxi suddenly realized who he was, and his worry vanished at once.

The driver who had kidnapped him that day—the man whose gaze was as unfathomable and terrifying as the abyss—was none other than Wang Wu’s martial arts teacher, the old company commander.

It made sense. Wang Wu’s skills were already formidable, but now, as if reborn, he was surrounded by martial experts. The old company commander and the lead driver were one and the same; subtracting one from the equation seemed reasonable enough. Wen Jiangxi’s thoughts wandered.

The old company commander, for his part, had recognized Wen Jiangxi even earlier from his words.

“Reporting, Company Commander! Wen’s skills are excellent—no need to worry!” Wang Wu replied with his usual bluntness, remaining on high alert.

Resigned, the old company commander said, “Wang Wu, look after him. If anything happens to him, you’ll be confined to barracks!”

He was less curt than last time, Wen Jiangxi noted. For someone so formidable, he’d been stalemated by these five thugs, and even Wang Wu had been wounded before escaping. These armed men weren’t easily dealt with.

“Yes, Company Commander!” Wang Wu’s response was firm as ever.

“Don’t worry, Commander,” Wen Jiangxi said, glancing at the five armed men and mimicking Wang Wu’s stance. Then he added, “I knew the first time we met I couldn’t beat you. With all the gods above as my witness, I’m just glad to be on your side, thrashing these scoundrels.”

Wang Wu wondered where he’d found such a disciple—talented, but with a mouth that never stopped. The company commander recalled Wen Jiangxi from the day of the kidnapping, unable to suppress a wry smile.

Wen Jiangxi spoke lightly, and as he finished, a voice broke in, perfectly timed—Seventh Brother’s, trembling with terror as he remembered the injuries he’d suffered. “Why… why is it you…”

“Seventh Brother, he’s just a boy, what are you afraid of?”

This came from a corner everyone thought empty. Wen Jiangxi startled, following the sound—there was no light there, but he could just make out a lanky figure lounging in a high-backed chair, watching them with a mocking grin.

He couldn’t see the man’s eyes, but he could feel that predatory amusement, like a cat toying with a mouse, and it made Wen Jiangxi deeply uneasy.

Wang Wu, noticing the man only now, didn’t turn his head or shift his defensive stance.

With a glance, Wen Jiangxi made a quick judgment. According to the combat training Wang Wu had given him, the man’s position was the most advantageous in the room for both attack and defense.

“Qi, he’s the kid we kidnapped last time…”

“Oh?” The man in the corner—addressed as Qi—sounded surprised, but the tone quickly returned to normal. “Ning, looks like there was more to it last time—that kid’s escape wasn’t just luck.”

He was clearly suspicious of Wen Jiangxi’s abilities, suspecting that Old Ning had helped him and Zhang Ya escape. Seventh Brother was strong, but having been beaten so badly by a child was hard to swallow.

Heipi and Seventh Brother, both proud men, kept their silence.

Qi shook his head, sighing, “A shame, really. But you betrayed Master Jiu. Now your two friends and your daughter will die with you.”

The old company commander was furious. He shouted, “Jiang Qi, if you have any guts, fight me one-on-one! What kind of man threatens my friends and daughter?”

Had Wen Jiangxi been closer, he would have noticed that, despite his rage, the company commander’s face was utterly calm, his gaze lowered—a terrifyingly composed expression.

“Ning, you were always the one I admired most among Master Jiu’s men. We got along well. But Master Jiu saved my life. Your daughter chose to come, and your friends too. If they want to die with you, there’s nothing I can do.” Jiang Qi’s voice was even. “That big fellow must be one of your old soldiers. He was brave enough to call the police, then turn back.”

He glanced at his watch. “Ning, you’re a tough man. When I set up this trap, I ran a little experiment. From the moment someone calls the police, it takes about half an hour for them to arrive. Just in case you tried it. So I’m in no rush. You can end it yourself or try to fight your way out—your choice. You’ve already fought the Five Brutes; you know how they are. What I don’t understand is, Master Jiu treated you well, so why betray him?”

The old company commander’s fury only grew. “Jiang Qi, you son of a bitch, enough talk! Come and fight if you dare. Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

No sooner had he spoken than one of the Five Brutes attacked, swinging an iron rod at the commander’s trembling left arm. It was a perfect opportunity—only someone who’d been in countless fights would seize such a moment, striking when their opponent’s emotions spiked, almost always landing a blow.

“Damn it!” Jiang Qi’s voice rose sharply. “Are you brainless?!”

If a fight could have settled this, he would have started it long ago instead of waiting for Wang Wu to call the police. The current stalemate had been hard won. Now, with their numbers advantage, they could finally press it, but Jiang Qi knew all too well that against Old Ning, numbers alone meant nothing if not used with skill. Now they had Old Ning’s daughter as leverage, making him hesitate. Both sides were waiting for the other to slip—but his own side slipped first.

Even as his words echoed through the room, one of the Five Brutes had already collapsed to the ground, not even able to cry out, lying motionless.

My god, could he be dead? Wen Jiangxi could only describe his feelings about the company commander’s skills as shock. In that instant, all he saw was the commander’s left arm flick aside and, somehow, he’d struck his opponent’s neck. With just that, the brute—stronger even than Seventh Brother—toppled without a sound.

“Damn it, get him!” The remaining four lunged, their weapons raining blows on the company commander.

“Wen, take those two—I’ll help the commander!” Wang Wu’s body shrank like a drawn bow, then sprang forward like an arrow, launching himself at one of the brutes.

This was Wang Wu going all out. Wen Jiangxi had no time to be amazed; his blood was boiling. Almost at the same moment, he launched a full-force assault on Heipi and Seventh Brother.

It had been just over a month since his kidnapping, and Wen Jiangxi’s fists, strength, and skill had improved dramatically. This was only his third real fight, but he no longer needed tricks—he could take on Heipi and Seventh Brother head-on.

Agonized cries echoed in the cramped basement, making everyone’s ears tingle. Only Seventh Brother and Heipi made any sound; the brutes felled by Wang Wu and the commander slumped silently to the floor like the first.

“You… what’s happening…” The last two brutes tried to suppress their terror, bewildered as they looked at Wang Wu. They remembered clearly that, just moments ago when they’d surrounded him, he hadn’t been this strong—one of them had even slashed Wang Wu’s hand with a machete.

The Five Brutes weren’t notorious in Yangjiang’s underworld, and ordinary thugs had never even heard of them. Only the big bosses knew their real strength—men who’d fought since childhood, their skills paid for with scars. This made them supremely confident when facing an enemy.

But today, they weren’t just up against men more experienced in brawling. They faced soldiers who’d been to war, men who’d stared death in the face countless times—special forces.

Against such men, their supposed strength was as insignificant as the mightiest ant before a boot.