Han Cang

In Lin Qi’s memory, the Black Bear had long since dominated the entire underworld of Haitong City.

So when Duan Feng called out for his boss, Lin Qi instinctively thought the Black Bear had arrived.

But then, to his surprise, the man declared that the Black Bear was only fit to carry his shoes.

What arrogance!

Lin Qi frowned slightly. “Who are you?”

The man let out a cold laugh. “Name’s Han Cang. Ever heard of me?”

Lin Qi had, in fact, heard the name. After Chen Yuannan’s death, the power structure had collapsed and the Black Bear had taken advantage of the chaos to move into the southern part of the city.

But he was braver than he was cunning and had little talent for management. As a result, the south soon descended into bloody conflict, and many ruthless men seized the opportunity to rise, quickly forming their own small gangs. Han Cang was the most notorious among them.

Lin Qi had assumed that, with so much time passed, the Black Bear would have quelled the disorder. Yet here Han Cang was, not only alive and well but brazen enough to insult the Black Bear in broad daylight!

“Black Bear, just what are you doing…” Lin Qi shook his head helplessly.

Hearing no response from inside, Han Cang assumed Lin Qi was scared of him and sneered, “This kid’s a coward. Is he really as fierce as you say?”

Duan Feng sighed. “Coward or not, I can’t say. But he really can fight. Over a dozen of my men, all laid flat by him…”

“Is that so? I’d like to see for myself! Open the door!” Han Cang, now intrigued, barked the order.

But in that instant, the entire KTV was plunged into darkness. The electric shutter lost power and held firm.

Lin Qi pressed up against the door, peering out through a gap he’d kicked open moments earlier.

There were a lot of people outside.

A dozen cars, several dozen motorcycles—by a rough count, seventy or eighty men at least, all armed with knives and clubs, exuding murderous intent.

There was no way to fight through that.

Lin Qi tried calling the Black Bear, but got no answer.

He then phoned Tang Long. At last, someone picked up.

After the call, Lin Qi retreated to the bar, grabbed a random bottle of beer, poured himself a glass, and took a leisurely sip.

“What the hell is going on? Why isn’t the door open yet?” Han Cang’s furious roar came from outside.

“That guy cut the power…” Duan Feng answered, exasperated.

“Useless. Watch me!”

No sooner had he spoken than the roar of engines filled the air.

Wheels thundered over the pavement.

Bang!

An SUV crashed straight through, crushing the shutter door to pieces.

The crowd outside erupted in excitement, and waves of men, weapons in hand, surged inside.

“Ha ha ha! Where’s that kid…” Han Cang pushed open the car door, standing atop the ruined shutter like a king about to ascend his throne, flanked by dozens of fierce-looking men.

But in the next instant, cold sweat broke out on his brow.

A fruit knife was pressed to his throat.

Lin Qi stood behind him, his tone icy. “I’m right here.”

“What do you think you’re doing? Let our boss go…”

“You’ve got some nerve!”

The crowd surrounded Lin Qi and Han Cang, waving their weapons in anger.

“Han Cang, you’d better calm your men, or I might slip…” Lin Qi said, deliberately letting his hand tremble. A bead of blood immediately trickled down Han Cang’s neck.

“Everyone, quiet!” Han Cang shouted at once.

The place fell silent.

“Brother, you can go. Let’s pretend none of this happened…” Han Cang tried to keep his composure, negotiating with Lin Qi.

“I doubt I can just walk away. Looks like you’ll be keeping me company for a while…” Lin Qi, still holding Han Cang, began to back slowly toward the exit.

The crowd kept their circle, following every step.

Soon, they reached the street.

“All right, that’s enough, isn’t it? You can leave now. I promise not to hold this against you…” Han Cang said, his voice dark.

Lin Qi was about to reply when a Maybach slowly rolled up.

Everyone recognized it at once—the car of Tang Long, president of Longyue Group.

No one knew why Tang Long was there, but the crowd instinctively parted to let the vehicle through.

The Maybach pulled up in front of Lin Qi and Han Cang.

The door opened, and indeed, it was Tang Long who stepped out.

In his thirties, dressed in a sharp black suit, Tang Long exuded the unmistakable aura of a true boss, his presence commanding.

Seeing Tang Long arrive, Lin Qi lowered his knife.

Han Cang, watching this unfold, was momentarily stunned.

“President Tang, what brings you here?” Han Cang immediately inquired.

“He called me,” Tang Long replied, pointing at Lin Qi.

Han Cang stared in disbelief from Lin Qi to Tang Long, sweat beading his brow. “President Tang, he’s…”

Duan Feng quickly leaned in, whispering something in Han Cang’s ear.

Hearing this, Han Cang’s face twisted in shock and anger. He slapped Duan Feng hard across the face.

“Why the hell didn’t you say so sooner?”

Roaring, he turned back to Tang Long, bowing and nodding in a panic. “President Tang, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know he was your…”

“It’s fine. It’s not your fault…” Tang Long replied coolly, then lashed out with a savage kick.

Han Cang nearly wet himself with fear, thinking it was the end for him.

But the kick landed on Lin Qi instead.

With a dull thud, Lin Qi was sent flying at least eight meters.