Chapter 70: Competing for Talent

Liu Xinyue's phone call to her grandfather took less than two minutes, but when she returned, the atmosphere in the room had grown tense and confrontational.

Wang Chenghu had issued a final ultimatum: either hand over Hong Chen and his companion to the King’s Club for immediate punishment according to their rules, or hand over Chen Feiyang and his group, and after the truth was clarified, the club would consider appropriate punishment for Hong Chen and his associate.

Gao Tianxiong’s stance was resolute—no, he would not hand over Hong Chen or Chen Feiyang to anyone.

Hong Chen, caught at the center of this power struggle, remained calm. He leisurely poured himself a cup of tea and sipped it as if none of this concerned him. When Liu Xinyue returned, casting him an apologetic glance, Hong Chen merely smiled, easy and carefree, as though he had long anticipated the old master Liu’s decision.

“Give it up,” Liu Hao muttered, shooting Liu Xinyue a glance. “Grandfather isn’t senile; he can tell right from wrong. Our family owes him nothing.” Seeing Liu Xinyue burdened with heavy thoughts, Liu Hao snorted, growing more determined not to let Hong Chen off. He had warned Liu Xinyue to cut ties with Hong Chen, insisting she keep at least thirty meters between them. Yet, in the card room earlier, the two had embraced right under his nose. Whether it was a misunderstanding or not, he would not warn her again nor give a second chance. He couldn’t do anything to his own sister, but Hong Chen would pay the price.

“Wang Shaokun, I don’t care how the King’s Club punishes people. I have only one request: break both his legs. I’ll do it myself!” A ruthless glint flashed in Liu Hao’s eyes as he pointed at Hong Chen and looked to Wang Shaokun.

Wang Shaokun, seeing Liu Hao’s determination, was about to agree when a furious shout erupted: “Who? Who wants to break my brother’s legs? If you’ve got guts, step forward and let me see you!”

A tall, slender young man parted the crowd and strode into the lounge area, indifferent to everyone else, scanning left and right with an air of arrogance. The sudden silence fell over the room as faces turned in shock—he had arrived. The young man was none other than Jiang Tao, only son of the Jiang family patriarch and the undisputed young master of Qing City. Who in the circles did not know him?

Jiang Tao walked straight to Hong Chen, glanced him over, and cracked a cool smile: “All limbs intact, complexion healthy. Looks like I arrived just in time.”

Hong Chen remained seated, neither rising nor greeting him, tossing Jiang Tao a cigarette. “How did you know I was here?”

Jiang Tao glanced at the cigarette—Red Tower Mountain, the kind that cost eight yuan a pack—not minding, he lit it and answered, “Everyone in the circle is watching what's happening here. Someone’s streaming live in their social feed. I was eating farmhouse food on the outskirts—took me forty-five minutes to drive here, though it’s usually an hour and a half. I came just to support you. Pretty good, right?”

Hong Chen rolled his eyes. “Last time you took a trip to the gates of hell, and now you want more excitement. You’re something else.”

Jiang Tao puffed smoke, unconcerned. Suddenly, he realized that all eyes in the room were fixed on them, staring as if witnessing a mirage. It was no wonder everyone was stunned—the scene defied all expectations. The scion of Qing City’s top family and the would-be son-in-law of a second-tier family, their statuses worlds apart. Yet not only did they know each other, Jiang Tao had come to Hong Chen, while Hong Chen didn’t even stand up. Their conversation was casual, a relationship of equals. Hong Chen sat, Jiang Tao stood—it could even be said Hong Chen held the higher status.

This was something no one could comprehend, overturning every notion of hierarchy.

Jiang Tao didn’t care about their thoughts. Even if he knew, he wouldn’t mind. Hong Chen had saved his life and was not to be lumped in with the idle friends of the circle. As the future heir to the Jiang family, he knew clearly who mattered.

“What are you staring at? Get back to what you’re doing! Just one thing: Hong Chen is my brother. No one touches him.” Jiang Tao frowned and barked impatiently.

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At Jiang Tao’s words, the crowd changed color; Liu Hao, Wang Tianhu, and others looked especially grim. Liu Hao hesitated, then said in a low voice, “Jiang Tao, everything has its principle. He ignored the rules of the King’s Club…”

Jiang Tao cut him off: “Liu Hao, shut up. What’s happening here is being streamed live in several social feeds. The whole circle is watching. You and Wang Shaokun put pressure in public, and a dozen sycophants jump in, so my brother is supposed to be buried in a pit by you all? Believe me, with one word, at least twenty people here will stand up and testify—it was self-defense.”

Liu Hao was left speechless, his face flushed. The Jiang family, as the leading first-tier family, had the broadest reach and the strongest influence. If Jiang Tao called, more than twenty among the hundred onlookers would answer.

“Jiang Tao, I’ll give your father face. I won’t touch him, but you’d best stay out of everything else.” Wang Chenghu was seasoned; seeing Jiang Tao determined to protect Hong Chen, he signaled Wang Shaokun to hold back and took a step back himself.

Jiang Tao nodded. “Naturally.”

Wang Chenghu ignored him, turning to Gao Tianxiong. “Mr. Gao, Jiang Tao wants to protect Hong Chen, so I’ll give face. Now I ask you for face—hand over Chen Feiyang to me. You can take everyone else you brought. I won’t stop you. Also, as I said, the King’s Club will give all members an explanation after the investigation.”

Jiang Tao’s reminder of the live-streaming influenced him; the crowd was filming and photographing, the whole circle watching. He couldn’t drag things out—he needed to act decisively. Jiang Tao had shielded Hong Chen without reason, so he’d do the same for Chen Feiyang. Who could blame him?

In some ways, Jiang Tao’s arrival had helped, giving him a way to act tough without reproach.

“Impossible,” Gao Tianxiong replied firmly. Wang Chenghu had expected as much; his face darkened. “I’ve given face, and you reject it. Don’t blame me for being unreasonable.”

He turned, and a man behind him took the hint, pulling out a walkie-talkie and calling twice. Moments later, security guards from three directions streamed in, causing everyone to tense and step aside.

Within moments, at least fifty club security guards formed a cordon around Gao Tianxiong and his group. Wang Chenghu dropped his conciliatory manner, his face grim, eyes sharp. “Gao Tianxiong, I’ll say it once more—leave Chen Feiyang, and your people must leave the King’s Club within five minutes. Our families are bitter rivals in the industry; some things needn’t be spelled out.”

Gao Tianxiong was unfazed by the show of force, scanning the room with a cold smile. “If you want to take someone, I doubt these men are enough.”

“Gao Tianxiong, let me face you instead.” A cold, hard voice came from behind the security guards. A short, wiry man with dark skin and a stern face stepped forward—it was Liuzi, whom Biankang had earlier instructed the crew-cut man to notify.

He was at the peak of half-step Master level; had he not suffered a serious injury two years ago, he’d have advanced already.

A sharp glint flashed in Gao Tianxiong’s eyes as he grinned. “Fine, let’s try a couple of moves.” With that, he stepped forward, unleashing his aura.

Liuzi approached slowly, his aura subdued, but his gaze grew ever sharper.

“Did you come alone? Didn’t your family send a bodyguard?” Hong Chen turned to Jiang Tao as the fight erupted.

“I used to dislike bodyguards trailing me. After that car accident, if I didn’t bring one, my mother wouldn’t let me leave home. Had to go along with her, so I just treat him as an extra tail, blending in with the crowd.” Jiang Tao nodded toward a direction.

“If Mr. Gao can’t hold out, mind lending your bodyguard?” Hong Chen followed his gaze and easily spotted a low-key middle-aged man, speaking offhandedly.

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“Well…” Jiang Tao looked embarrassed, then laughed. “Just joking…”

As they chatted, the two fighters simultaneously stepped back, both emitting muffled grunts. Hong Chen glanced over and chuckled. “Mr. Gao wins.”

No sooner had he spoken than Gao Tianxiong steadied himself and charged, knocking his opponent flying.

Wang Chenghu and his group looked grim. Based on their observations during the tournament, Gao Tianxiong hadn’t seemed to reach the peak of internal force, let alone half-step Master. Turns out he’d been hiding his strength.

“Brother Wei, sorry to trouble you. As long as you don’t take his life, injure him as seriously as possible.” Wang Chenghu turned to a man in blue, about fifty, who nodded slightly. “Second Master, leave it to me.”

With that, he brushed past Wang Chenghu, speeding up like a sudden whirlwind.

After knocking Liuzi away, Gao Tianxiong paused for a few seconds. The blue-clad man attacked without warning, but Gao Tianxiong was prepared. He half-turned, let out a tiger’s roar, and punched forcefully.

“Bang!” The blue-clad man punched as well; their fists collided with a crash like colliding lead balls. Gao Tianxiong staggered back, each step landing with a muffled thud, while the blue-clad man retreated only a step, then stood firm, eyes dropping to lock onto Gao Tianxiong’s abdomen before shooting forward.

His opponent was a Grade One martial artist. Gao Tianxiong knew he hadn’t yet regained his peak, and likely stood no chance, but he showed no fear, forcing himself to stop and charge headlong.

As Gao Tianxiong’s fist swung toward the blue-clad man’s head, the latter suddenly ducked and swept out a powerful kick.

Thump!

Gao Tianxiong’s punch missed, but the whip kick landed squarely on his abdomen, sending him flying and blood surging inside.

A cold gleam flashed in the blue-clad man’s eyes as he pursued relentlessly. Hu Yidong and his companions watched, hearts in their throats.

Erhu and Ale rushed out together, attacking the blue-clad man from left and right. He frowned, considering quickly, then halted, turning to face Ale with a cruel smile.

In the next instant, he punched—a blow even stronger than before. Ale, not even at the level of internal force, felt as if his flesh collided with a speeding car.

Crack! Ale’s right arm bent at ninety degrees, bone piercing the flesh, blood streaming. Worse still, the blue-clad man’s fist drove into Ale’s chest, collapsing it by half an inch. Ale was sent flying, the pain knocking him unconscious.

Meanwhile, Erhu’s fist was about to strike the blue-clad man’s back, but he suddenly spun, catching it with one palm, the other forming a knife-hand. His cruel smile widened as he spoke coldly: “For the rest of your life, just like that girl, you’ll be blind.”

With that, his knife-hand slashed sideways.