Chapter Eighteen: Ambushed

After Tangtang finished speaking, the group of thugs suddenly started fighting among themselves. Watching them brawl, Tangtang didn’t even turn her head, simply hooked her arm through Wang Zixuan’s and walked straight into the mall. Then came the ritual of trying on clothes and buying things—any male colleague who’s ever accompanied his girlfriend shopping would understand the experience. After the shopping spree and a meal, they finally came out.

The thugs were still at it, paired off and slapping each other’s faces, each slap louder than the last. Strangely, the people passing by seemed not to see them at all, going about their own business as if nothing was happening. The slapping continued until the same time the next day, and from then on, those thugs mended their ways. None dared commit another misdeed, and every household they had bullied now kept a portrait of a deity for protection.

Whenever someone tried to hire them for trouble, they refused in unison, visibly trembling. But that was all later.

At around eleven in the evening, Wang Zixuan and Tangtang arrived at Yashen Disco. As soon as they got out of the car, they noticed the disco was unusually quiet—eerily so, considering this should have been its liveliest hour. For some reason, tonight was different. Wang Zixuan sensed something was wrong, an uneasy feeling creeping over him, and tried to pull Tangtang back to the car.

Just then, a voice called from inside, “Since you’re already here, why not come in and sit for a while? Let us play the host, after all.”

Wang Zixuan frowned, “Who are you?”

The voice responded, “Wang Zixuan, haven’t you been searching for us? Those underworld enforcers were pathetic, weren’t they?”

Now, Wang Zixuan realized they’d walked straight into the lion’s den. He pulled Tangtang behind him, signaling her to seek help.

But the people inside seemed to know exactly what they were planning. “Don’t waste your energy trying to call for help. We’ve locked down this place—no messages are getting out.”

Tangtang gave Wang Zixuan a signal, confirming what the voice had said was true. There was no way out now, so Wang Zixuan braced himself and led Tangtang into the disco.

Inside, the disco was spotless, its style entirely changed. The chaotic stage was now a traditional opera platform, though whatever performance was underway made not a sound.

In the audience, a solitary figure sat, staring intently at the stage, seemingly oblivious to their entrance. Wang Zixuan looked around, trying to memorize the layout. After the act on stage ended, the person still faced away from them.

But he spoke: “How was the performance? Haven’t you been searching for us? Funny how you actually managed to find us.”

Wang Zixuan kept silent, still observing, though the voice sounded oddly familiar.

He frowned, “Who are you? Why not turn around and show yourself?”

The mysterious figure replied, “Don’t be impatient! The real show hasn’t even started yet. Does it matter who I am? Either way, you won’t be leaving.”

With that, he snapped his fingers. Suddenly, dozens of men in black sprang from every corner—no fewer than fifty. Each wielded a long blade, its edge shimmering with a faint blue glow.

Now Wang Zixuan understood the source of his unease. These weapons were the standard issue of the Underworld’s enforcers.

Wang Zixuan exclaimed, “Damn, they’re from the Underworld!”

As soon as the words left his lips, the men in black charged. Some leapt into the air, others rushed straight at them, and some even burrowed into the ground.