Chapter Fifty-Six: Seeking Humiliation

Lin Yang was not foolish enough to get entangled with a group of lawless terrorists wielding silenced pistols. Once he put some distance between himself and Leng Qing, he grabbed the still-dazed Wu Peng and dragged him toward a corner.

Time is life—Lin Yang now understood that truth on a deeper level. He had never truly grasped the meaning of lawlessness, recklessness, and audacity until this day.

Six silenced pistols fired indiscriminately at Lin Yang and Wu Peng’s heads and bodies. If not for his improved skills, speed faster than Bolt, and significantly strengthened senses that allowed him to detect any movement within twenty meters, he would have perished in this villa today.

He had just flung Wu Peng into a concealed spot at the corner when Leng Qing’s “bodyguards”—no, calling them bodyguards was too generous, these were assassins, cold-blooded killers—appeared.

They drew their guns and pulled the triggers in one seamless motion, acting with the discipline of seasoned professionals. If he had been even a tenth of a second slower, Lin Yang had no doubt he and Wu Peng would’ve been riddled with bullets like two slabs of meat.

Bang bang bang—the bullets struck the concrete walls, leaving several gaping holes before clattering to the floor, their rage spent.

Seeing that the mysterious young man who’d appeared out of nowhere not only rescued someone but also snatched away a sure-kill opportunity, Leng Qing—used to having the upper hand and controlling every situation—felt a rare, stinging frustration. He barked coldly at his elite death squad, men who’d stood out even in the army, “Go! Catch that brat for me! I want him to wish he were dead!” His hysterical voice was so chilling it made one’s hair stand on end.

Now that Wu Peng had been saved, Leng Nini felt a weight lift from her heart, but the situation left no room for optimism. Having exposed herself, she was immediately targeted by two death squad members who moved to intercept her. Unlike with Wu Peng and Lin Yang, though, they didn’t attack to kill.

Quick-witted as ever, Leng Nini knew her hiding spot in the study was no longer safe. Her petite body twisted and contorted in all sorts of extreme maneuvers, evading the two black-suited men trying to capture her as she darted among an intricately designed iron rack.

“Ha ha ha, you can’t catch me!” Even in this life-or-death moment, Leng Nini’s childlike playfulness overflowed; she couldn’t resist making a game of it. The more gleeful and mischievous she became, the more frustrated her two pursuers grew, their patience wearing thin.

When desperate men lose their temper, it’s truly terrifying. Leng Nini would never doubt that again. After being toyed with for so long, the two men showed her firsthand what Iron Shirt Kung Fu was all about.

They held their breath, lifted their legs, and clenched their fists in a methodical sequence, ignoring her taunting gestures. Instead, they turned their iron fists and legs against the artistic iron rack, which acted like a cage.

The collision of bone and steel—some people really could achieve miracles. The two only furrowed their brows, but the iron bars bent and twisted pitifully under their assault. In her frantic dodging, Leng Nini’s luck ran out; distracted for a moment, her right foot became trapped between two deformed bars, leaving her ensnared. She struggled in vain, her once-joyful expression instantly tightening into panic and anxiety.

“Ha ha, Miss, why bother? Is it really so hard to invite you home?” One of the men, handsome in a roguish way, jeered as he reached for Leng Nini’s trapped ankle.

His companion, a burly brute, just sneered coldly and seemed uninterested in interfering.

As the man’s hand reached out, Leng Nini was utterly hopeless. Sorrow flickered in her lively eyes; she closed them, resigned, as if awaiting the touch of death.

But instead of his grasp, a shriek of agony split the air, jolting Leng Nini from her despair. She opened her eyes to see a face she knew all too well—Lin Yang’s. The man who had been so cocky a moment before was now clutching his right hand, doubled over and howling in pain.

There was no wound, no blood. Not only was Leng Nini perplexed, even the man writhing in pain found it unbelievable.

The other “bodyguard” looked on, thinking his companion had suddenly lost his mind and was putting on an act.

Leng Nini, who had reached out to Lin Yang for help, quickly spotted the exquisite throwing knife in his hand and understood. But with her foot still trapped, her hands could only rest helplessly on the iron rack. Tears welled up and she sobbed, “Wu wu wu, Brother Yang, you finally came! If you hadn’t, I’d have been taken away, never to see you again, forced to marry that bastard... wu wu wu…”

Women are truly frightening—once the tears start, even the hardest man’s heart turns to mush. Leng Nini’s crying sent a wave of sorrow through Lin Yang.

“Alright, don’t cry. Let me deal with this bastard first, then we’ll talk.” He dared not let Leng Nini ramble on—never mind that she was still stuck, the enemies swarming up the stairs already had him scrambling. If he hadn’t moved quickly, Leng Nini would have been captured for sure.

With no time to waste, Lin Yang didn’t hold back. He threw a punch from a tricky ninety-degree angle, smashing his fist into the burly man’s temple. Under the forceful blow, the brute closed his eyes in reluctant defeat and crashed heavily to the floor, his muscular body making the floor tremble.

In that split second, Lin Yang summoned every ounce of strength to yank Leng Nini’s trapped foot free. He scooped her slender waist and staggered backward, retreating to a corner behind the wall.

Time truly is life.

Perhaps wary of harming Leng Nini, or perhaps because Leng Qing wanted to capture Lin Yang alive for a brutal torture session, the pursuers didn’t fire their guns. Instead, they advanced with gleaming, razor-sharp knives clutched in their fists.

With knife handles gripped at a ninety-degree angle—classic attack posture—they crowded into the tight space. Already flustered, Lin Yang now had to protect the helpless Leng Nini as well. It was nearly impossible not to feel overwhelmed.

They retreated, and retreated again, until there was nowhere left to go. Pressed against a solid concrete wall, Lin Yang couldn’t help blaming the construction crew for not having cut corners—if the wall were shoddier, he’d have an escape route. Now, trapped in this narrow space, being a hero was anything but easy.

To fight or not to fight? Surrender? He’d considered it—after all, Leng Nini had brought him enough trouble. Let them take her, and he’d finally have some peace. But these were just fleeting thoughts. When it came to betraying her, he just couldn’t do it.

Fine! The knives were already at his throat—if he didn’t act now, it would be too late.

There are some professions you just shouldn’t provoke. Unfortunately, Lin Yang happened to be one of them—a plastic surgeon. A doctor can heal, but he can also cripple. It’s no lie.

He could sever your left ankle tendon without harming the right. If he struck, he did so ruthlessly. Lin Yang was a master of surgical ferocity.

The first knife-wielding thug became his guinea pig—not only did his right Achilles tendon get sliced, but Lin Yang didn’t spare his hands, which had a history of groping women.

In Lin Yang’s mind, scum like this were the worst of society. Killing them would be a waste—after all, someone had to set off the hero’s glory. But leaving them free was irresponsible. After some deliberation, he found a compromise.

Cripple them, so they could never prey on women, never bully the weak, never menace society, and especially never frighten children again.

With the first victim down, there was a second, a third. But this time, Lin Yang’s eyes darted to the shards of broken glass on the ground, and a faster solution occurred to him.

His knife-throwing skills were legendary, but now he turned to throwing glass shards. He carefully selected a few sharp pieces, infused them with his internal energy, and flicked them out. The tiny fragments sliced through his assailants, leaving bloody, shocking wounds in their wake.

With such a large area of attack, precision was impossible—blood was inevitable.

The trio forming the human shield in front were hit first. The fourth, pierced by several shards, howled in agony and writhed on the ground. The fifth, a self-assured death squad member, began to panic. He retreated step by step until, reaching the stairway, he was coldly executed by Leng Qing, who, infuriated by the scene, put a bullet in his head. Without knowing what hit him, the man left this world for an audience with the King of Hell.

Seeing Leng Qing fire, Lin Yang’s face twitched. If Leng Qing was this ruthless to his own loyal men, who knew what he was truly capable of?

Law? Leng Qing had long since disregarded it. Why else would he brazenly carry guns? Even scarier was the fact that he now wielded a fully automatic AK-47.

Left hand holding a pistol, right hand gripping the assault rifle, a half-burned cigarette dangling from his mouth—if not for the lack of sunglasses, combined with his coldly handsome face, Leng Qing could have passed for a legendary battlefield hero.

Consumed by rage, Leng Qing lost what little reason he had left. He swept the corridor where Lin Yang was hiding with a barrage of bullets, the empty shells raining down like popcorn.

After the wild barrage, his ammunition spent, Leng Qing stopped, tossed the weapon to a subordinate, and strode purposefully toward Lin Yang’s position.

Amidst this tense atmosphere, the previously flirtatious trio—a man and two women—scattered in terror, seeking cover. Their earlier arrogance had vanished.

“Kid, stop hiding. I see you,” Leng Qing’s cold words were laced with provocation, but Lin Yang wasn’t about to take the bait.

The right-angled wall had become Lin Yang’s last refuge. He pressed Leng Nini protectively to his side, a few sharp glass shards gripped in his right hand, back against the concrete, while on the other side, Leng Qing crept closer, pistol drawn.

“Hmph, if you’re a real man, come out and face me fair and square! Are you a hero, or just a coward?” Leng Qing added more taunts, trying to goad him into action.

Lin Yang was speechless, cursing inwardly: “Fair and square? Who are you kidding? A moment ago you set your dogs on me, now you’re holding a gun and asking for a fair fight? It’s bad enough you’re shameless, but you expect me to be just as stupid? Damn, what a jerk.”