Chapter Fifty: Settling the Score with Sun Chuan Zhi

The scar-faced man was terrified. He hadn’t anticipated that this fellow would possess such formidable strength. When the boss first mentioned that he’d received an assignment from a friend and simply needed to sever the target’s tendons and bring him back, he’d assumed the job would be simple. The target knew some martial arts, but nothing impressive; a few men should suffice to subdue him.

Yet now, faced with this man, it was as if he’d been fueled by a frenzy, slaughtering any who blocked his path, whether gods or Buddhas. Not only himself—even the top enforcers of the gang would struggle against him. He’d entered this underworld for profit and power, but he had no intention of losing his life.

“You have only one chance.” Ye Wushang’s eyes were cold as ice. He pronounced each word with measured clarity: “Tell me—who sent you?”

“If you dare deceive me, or withhold anything, I’ll kill you!”

The scar-faced man dared not hesitate; instinctively, he replied, “It was Sun Chuan-zhi. He contacted my boss, and my boss sent us to teach you a lesson.”

“Sun Chuan-zhi?” Ye Wushang’s expression darkened.

Of course. He should have realized it sooner.

Every time they’d clashed, Sun Chuan-zhi had been humiliated. But lately, Ye Wushang had been preoccupied and had neither the time nor the interest to deal with him. Besides, Sun Chuan-zhi’s relationship with Lan Ruoxue was still decent—though divorced, the remnants of their bond remained.

Ye Wushang had hoped to avoid further complications. He never imagined Sun Chuan-zhi would go so far as to hire assassins.

This jumping jackal—if he wasn’t dealt with thoroughly now, he’d surely bring trouble again in the future.

“Who is your boss?”

“Zhang Hei-fa,” the scar-faced man blurted out. “He’s the boss of the North City branch of the Black Dragon Society.”

“Sir, grievances have their origin, debts have their owners. If you want revenge, go after my boss and Sun Chuan-zhi. This has nothing to do with me.” He added, “But the Black Dragon Society is the leading underground force in Jinghan. I suggest you be cautious…”

“Bang.” Ye Wushang jabbed the man’s face with his elbow, then released his grip. The man collapsed to the floor.

“I’ll spare your life. Go back and tell Zhang Hei-fa: this matter is not over. Once I’ve settled things with Sun Chuan-zhi, I’ll come for him. He should prepare himself.”

“I don’t care about the Black Dragon Society or the White Dragon Society—anyone who sets themselves against me, Ye Wushang, will regret ever coming into this world.”

“Get out!”

He delivered a heavy kick. The scar-faced man didn’t dare linger. Enduring the pain, he waved his hand, and his underlings scrambled away in panic, vanishing without a trace.

Afterward, Ye Wushang set this matter aside for now. He closed the door, tidied the scene, and headed into the inner courtyard.

The “well” was not a true well, but a rectangular sunken pool, somewhat like a bathtub. Its origins were unknown, but water constantly welled up on its own. The air inside was thick with spiritual energy—soaking in it was greatly beneficial for a practitioner.

Soon, he retrieved some inferior medicinal herbs he’d previously hidden in the woodshed, snapped and ground them, then poured them all into a small golden furnace. Though the furnace was no larger than a thumb, once infused with his inner strength, it expanded to the size of a proper cauldron.

Lighting a fire, decocting the herbs, controlling the heat—his movements were smooth and practiced.

Time slipped by quickly. Dusk was upon him before he noticed.

“Pop, pop…”

The lid of the furnace lifted, white steam drifting out, and as the brew boiled dry, two pitch-black pills tumbled around the bottom of the cauldron. They were irregular in shape, dull in color, and emitted a foul, fishy stench.

“As expected of inferior herbs,” Ye Wushang smiled bitterly as he picked up the pills. “After repeated refinement in the golden furnace, only two Blood-Revitalizing Pills could be produced.”

These pills were mainly used to clear internal sludge, unblock meridians and acupoints, and aided in cellular control. For ordinary people, the effects were decent, but for cultivators, their benefits were negligible.

After swallowing one pill, he felt little effect. But as the water in the sunken pool filled, Ye Wushang immersed himself within.

Another hour passed.

With a splash, Ye Wushang opened his eyes, propped himself up on the edge of the pool, and with a slight push, the water violently surged, gathering in midair to form a vortex, its explosive force astonishing.

“Qi Transformation, third stage!” he roared.

Two hours of alchemy and one hour of cultivation had elevated his strength from the first to the third layer of the Qi Transformation Realm. For ordinary people, this was an impressive effect.

For him, however—especially with the golden furnace and the spiritual pool—it was still as slow as a snail’s pace.

Thinking of his mother, still suffering at the Mo family in the capital, Ye Wushang’s heart ached with sorrow.

“No, I need to accelerate my cultivation.”

“But for that, apart from the golden furnace, I need more and better medicinal herbs.”

“Purpleleaf Grass, Shangjinteng, Skyfire Steel… I still have to find all these.”

He checked the time—seven in the evening.

If he remembered correctly, Sun Chuan-zhi should be in one of the offices at “Fortune Tower” right now.

He had let things slide, but Sun Chuan-zhi kept provoking him again and again.

This time, he would settle things once and for all.

…

Fortune Tower, thirteenth floor.

The entire floor belonged to Jade Rabbit Information Investment Co., Ltd., where Sun Chuan-zhi worked.

This company wasn’t owned by the Sun family, but by a friend of his father, Sun Houde.

In the Sun family, there was an unwritten rule: any heir designated as a potential successor had to gain experience in an unrelated company. Whoever achieved the best results and greatest social influence would gain access to all the family’s resources. Otherwise, they’d be sidelined, stripped of all but the Sun family name.

At this moment, Sun Chuan-zhi was lounging in his small office, leisurely flipping through a model magazine. His feet were propped on the desk. A steaming cup of coffee sat beside him. He commented on the scantily clad models, delighting in the pastime.

Just as he was becoming engrossed—already unbuckling his belt, ready for some self-indulgence—the phone rang.

He glanced at the caller ID: Zhao Xiu’e.

He frowned, but didn’t lose his temper, and answered.

“Chuan-zhi…” came Zhao Xiu’e’s delighted voice. “How’s it going? Did your men deal with that good-for-nothing?”

“I’ve spoken to your uncle,” she continued excitedly, “He fully supports your plan. If you get rid of that wretch, he’ll personally persuade Ruoxue to marry you.”

Sun Chuan-zhi beamed. “Don’t worry, Auntie. Zhang Hei-fa has already sent his men. By now, they should be dealing with him. All of them are top enforcers of the Black Dragon Society—he won’t stand a chance. Once they’re done, we’ll bring him back for you to have your way with.”

“Really?” Zhao Xiu’e sounded overjoyed. “If so, that’s wonderful! Not only does it clear the way for you and Ruoxue, but it lets me vent three years of resentment. Two birds with one stone. I’ll wait for your good news, but don’t keep me waiting too long, alright?”

After hanging up, Sun Chuan-zhi checked the time. Success should be within his grasp. Soon that loser would be brought here—he’d have his fun, then deliver him to Zhao Xiu’e.

The thought of marrying Lan Ruoxue, of nights filled with pleasure, excited him so much he began whistling.

Just as he picked up the magazine again, intending to continue his amusement, the door swung open and someone entered.

Startled, he hurriedly pulled up his trousers, grumbling, “Who the hell just barges in without knocking? Don’t you know basic manners—”

“Chuan-zhi, it’s me.”

A deep voice cut him off.

Sun Chuan-zhi immediately shut his mouth, hastily stashed the magazine, and forced a smile. “Uncle Tu, it’s you. If you needed me, you could have called—no need to come in person…”

“Enough of that,” Uncle Tu scoffed, walking over and slumping on the sofa with a sullen look. “Your father sent you here to gain experience, to bring him pride. But you’ve been here almost a year and haven’t achieved a thing. You spend your days flirting with female employees or fantasizing over those model magazines. What am I supposed to do with you?”

He and Sun Houde were old friends, having met in a brothel. Over time, they’d become regular companions—true partners in vice.

He produced a document from under his arm and placed it on the coffee table. “This is a resignation letter. I’ve drafted it for you. Just sign at the bottom. When you return, your family won’t make things difficult for you.”

Sun Chuan-zhi was appalled. The prescribed period for heirs to gain experience was two years—leaving early for any reason was considered forfeiture. While Uncle Tu’s complaints were true, they weren’t grounds for dismissal.

“Uncle Tu, please don’t be angry. I know I was wrong.” Sun Chuan-zhi hurried over, massaging Uncle Tu’s shoulders, pleading, “Don’t fire me. I can’t face my father if I go back empty-handed. Even if the family doesn’t punish me, he’ll never forgive me. Please, give me another chance. I swear, I’ll stop flirting with the staff. I’ll work hard, earn money for the company, and bring in greater profits…”

Uncle Tu waved him off. “It’s not about you. I plan to close the company and sell my assets. I’m seriously ill and need a lot of money for treatment. Not just you—everyone is being let go. If you’re worried about your father, have him call me. I’ll explain everything to him myself.”

…