Chapter Twenty-Three: Mastery Is a Realm of Its Own

Bang!

Faced with Wang Zheng’s lazy indifference and utter lack of intention to leave, Cheng Minghui once again kicked hard at the chair beneath Wang Zheng.

“I’m kicking the chair now, but next time it’ll be you. Get out!”

Wang Zheng wasn’t angry; instead, he laughed loudly, taking a small sip of green tea and saying, “He who lacks self-respect finds humiliation; he who lacks self-restraint finds disaster. Don’t think you’re something just because your family has a bit of money. In Jinghua City, you’re not nearly arrogant enough to strut down the middle of the road.”

“You, a palm-reader, trying to scare me? Get out, or I’ll make you,” Cheng Minghui said with disdain.

To his mind, a man whose entire outfit cost less than his own haircut—a man without a private car, cramped together with a woman in a Beetle—couldn’t possibly be dangerous. At best, he was just pretending.

“Make a move?” Wang Zheng was momentarily stunned. Someone actually dared utter the words “make a move” to him? Someone wanted to fight the King of Africa, a warrior of a hundred tribes? If this were Africa, this fool would’ve drowned in spit by now.

Were it not for the proletarian heart Wang Zheng acquired after returning to China, this ignorant street punk—who hadn’t gotten past the third page of the Three Character Classic—would’ve been dealt with long ago. He wouldn’t have tolerated such arrogance.

Cheng Minghui glared viciously at Wang Zheng, his malicious gaze betraying the jealousy burning within him, clouding his reason.

“Young fool, you don’t understand love. Anyone you look at gets pregnant, anyone you glare at miscarries. Go on, hit me,” Wang Zheng said carelessly. “That way, after I kill you, I’ll be acquitted for self-defense.”

Hearing this, Cheng Minghui suddenly swung a slap at Wang Zheng’s face.

Smack!

But before the slap could land, Wang Zheng caught his wrist, simultaneously kicking Cheng Minghui’s ankle. Cheng Minghui felt a numbness and collapsed to his knees with a thud!

“Here’s a word of advice,” Wang Zheng said calmly, looking at Cheng Minghui kneeling on the ground. “Without health insurance or life insurance, don’t show off before dark. And don’t bother Su Xue again, or next time, it won’t be as simple as kneeling. Now get lost.”

With that, Wang Zheng released his grip, sending a surge of force through his hand. Cheng Minghui staggered backward and landed heavily on the floor.

---

“You...!” Cheng Minghui scrambled to his feet. The restaurant patrons had already noticed the commotion, and his humiliating kneeling was witnessed by all. The scornful looks from the crowd made him flush with rage. Suddenly, he grabbed a chair from a nearby table and hurled it at Wang Zheng.

The heavy wooden chair swung toward Wang Zheng’s head, and if it connected, blood would surely flow. Seeing the imminent violence at such close quarters, many in the restaurant closed their eyes, unwilling to witness the carnage. Chu Jun covered her eyes, screaming.

“Ah—!”

To endure what others cannot, to act as others dare not. Name: Da Xiong! Hence, Da Xiong’s Hall! Buddha itself! If I don’t enter hell, who will?

Love? Whoever wants it can have it—I want no part of it!

Boom!

Ugh—!

Thud...!

A series of impacts, accompanied by gasps and screams, saw Cheng Minghui sent flying three or four meters by a single kick from Wang Zheng, like a broken kite. The chair he had raised was nowhere to be seen, and he landed on another table, scalding hotpot water splashing onto him, causing him to howl in pain as he rolled desperately on the floor!

If I don’t enter hell, who will? Answer: Cheng Minghui, the pretender!

Blessed be! Withdraw the fists and become Buddha instantly!

Wang Zheng flashed a wicked, charming smile at the writhing Cheng Minghui; none present could help but be captivated. He dusted off his shoe, sat down again, crossed his legs, and, with an understanding look, chuckled, “Oh, so this is what you call ‘rolling’—I see!”

“What’s going on, what’s going on?” A woman in a suit rushed over with several security guards. Her badge read “Lobby Manager,” and, as in every place, the security only arrived after the commotion had ended.

“You... you just wait—I’ll kill you!” Cheng Minghui, crawling and stumbling, rose from the floor and glared viciously at Wang Zheng.

He was covered in bits of vegetables and lamb slices, his arm reddened by the hot water, his once smooth skin now blotched and unsightly. Perhaps even he hadn’t imagined that his arrogance would end in such disgrace. Enduring the burning pain in his arm, he shoved aside a chair and staggered toward the exit.

---

“Being badass is a state of being—you’ll never cross that threshold! If you’re not afraid of dying, come let me play the King of Hell for you, and see if you can survive, you beast!” Wang Zheng called out loudly, letting the words reach Cheng Minghui, so he could understand just how vast the gap between them truly was.

Wang Zheng had always thought himself ruthless, but after meeting Cheng Minghui, he realized there were few kinder than himself.

“Miss Su, Miss Chu—what happened?” The lobby manager walked to Su Xue and Chu Jun, her expression puzzled, glancing at Wang Zheng. Thanks to his actions, two tables had been overturned, disrupting diners. Security was important to customers—if fights broke out every day, who would come?

“We’re sorry, manager, we...” As Chu Jun began to apologize, Wang Zheng stood from his chair, faced the onlookers in the restaurant, smiled lightly, and said, “Sorry for disturbing your meals. But I believe any man, when his woman is bullied, should stand up. If the other party is shameless enough, you shouldn’t hesitate to use your fists to teach him a lesson—especially since he started it. Should we thank the villain who hurts us and our women? I simply did what any real man should do. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

His simple words explained the situation. The male patrons nodded approvingly—none wanted to lose face before their girlfriends. Who knew if, after dinner, their girlfriends might ask:

“If I were bullied, would you fight for me?”

The female customers, meanwhile, were drawn to Wang Zheng’s masculine aura; after all, a man who can make a woman feel safe is a true man. His sincere apology helped, so everyone let the matter drop, and those who’d planned to leave sat back down to continue their meal.

Besides Wang Zheng’s attitude, Su Xue and Chu Jun’s presence played a role. The manager’s earlier “Miss Su, Miss Chu” had revealed their identities. This man was their friend—who would dare disrespect him?

After speaking, Wang Zheng turned to the lobby manager, saying, “Have the staff clean up here and set up two new tables. Their bills are on me; I’ll cover any losses. And could you hurry up with our order? I’m really hungry.”

“Of course, sir!” With the gentleman’s words so graciously spoken, the lobby manager promptly directed staff to clean up and replace the overturned tables and chairs; soon, the dishes began to arrive one by one.

Wang Zheng raised his teacup to the two tables of diners, toasted them, and drank. Peace returned, but now the diners knew that the two famous female anchors of Jinghua City, Su Xue and Chu Jun, were dining here with a man.

Moreover, that man had declared, “Any man should stand up when his woman is bullied.”

It stirred endless imagination among those present.