Chapter Seventeen: Worthless

Outside the Fule Restaurant.

Yang Sheng stepped out the front door and sat down on the steps, lighting a cigarette but not taking a drag. Inside, the rowdy henchmen of the Hongsheng Union were still loudly downing shots, but the cold wind outside sharpened Yang Sheng’s mind even further.

Since his parents’ tragedy, Yang Sheng had abstained from both smoking and drinking.

Because he was afraid.

Afraid that alcohol and nicotine would erode his willpower, causing him to lose himself and forget his hatred.

Those self-help gurus always preached about letting go, but Yang Sheng’s only response was a curt four-character phrase: “Forget your nonsense!”

No one can advise another without having suffered themselves.

Yang Sheng could not let go of this hatred.

Even after avenging his family by killing the entire Lin clan, the pent-up rage from five years inside him was not released; instead, it transformed into a surging, turbulent anger within his heart.

Since entering the Reincarnation World, the fierce battles in the arena and gang clashes—though brutal and bloody to outsiders—brought Yang Sheng an unparalleled sense of relief, as if his inner rage had finally found an outlet.

Otherwise, if this continued long-term, Yang Sheng felt he would eventually become a madman or a psychopath.

It could be said that Fatty Wang had saved Yang Sheng twice by sending him into the Reincarnation World.

“Brother Sheng, why are you standing out here in the cold instead of drinking inside?” The foreigner, Gui Laowen, ambled out.

This guy had been in the middle of a drinking contest inside, going one-on-seven until no one dared to continue.

Yang Sheng shook his head gently and said, “If you want to master kung fu, it’s best to quit drinking. Long-term alcohol dulls your nerves, slowing your perception and movements.

Your master from childhood didn’t build a solid foundation for you. Although you have good talent, it’s hard to break into the Grandmaster realm.

You’ve always wanted to learn kung fu, right? Here’s the boxing manual for Xingyiquan—you can practice following it.

Southern style boxing is intricate and compact, with short bridges and inch power, adept at offense and defense within a small space.

Northern style boxing is broad and expansive, with hard bridges and firm stances, excelling in frontal attacks.

It’s not that I won’t teach you more, but biting off more than you can chew doesn’t help.

If you can blend the characteristics of both southern and northern styles, your strength will definitely improve.”

Previously, Yang Sheng hadn’t taught Gui Laowen because he hadn’t figured out what kind of background this foreigner had, not wanting to cause trouble or waste time on the mission.

Now that Gui Laowen was following him and could be considered his top disciple, Yang Sheng naturally was more generous.

Fatty Wang had temporarily boosted Yang Sheng’s martial arts proficiency to ninety percent—this was a temporary enhancement of experience and strength that couldn’t be taught to others.

But the authentic kung fu he had learned from his master previously could be passed on to Gui Laowen.

“Thanks, Brother Sheng!” Gui Laowen’s grin stretched almost to his ears, excitement evident.

At that moment, two henchmen of the Hongsheng Union arrived at the restaurant entrance in Di Wei’s Mazda, smoking and rolling down the window.

“Yang Sheng, Brother Wei wants to see you.”

Di Wei wanted to see him?

Yang Sheng squinted, thoughts racing.

He had always sensed Di Wei’s hostility, but hadn’t paid much mind.

His main goal had always been the primary mission—first, he needed to seize the Imperial Guard’s blade.

Di Wei taking the initiative to meet him now likely spelled no good.

Yang Sheng turned his head and handed Gui Laowen a stack of Hong Kong dollars in a low voice.

“I’m going to see Brother Wei. You settle the bill and have the brothers wait for me here.”

Gui Laowen nodded thoughtfully and left, while Yang Sheng got into the Mazda to meet Di Wei.

Inside the bar’s private room.

The blaring music had been turned off, but the flashing lights still made one’s head throb.

“Ah Sheng, have a seat.”

Yang Sheng sat naturally across from Di Wei and asked, “Brother Wei, what do you want from me?”

Di Wei tossed a black bag onto the coffee table. Inside were stacks of Hong Kong dollars.

“I’m straightforward. Take this money and do something for me.”

“What’s the task?”

Di Wei lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, and said calmly, “Your ranking in the Dragon City Championship is already good enough. It’s time to end it.

At the next arena match, no matter who your opponent is, just fight a few rounds symbolically and then concede.”

Di Wei was smart enough not to mention Wu Tianhao’s affair.

The fewer people who knew of Brother Hao’s arrangements in the arena, the better.

Otherwise, if it became public, Di Wei might lose favor with Brother Hao instead of gaining it.

Yang Sheng’s face remained expressionless as he asked evenly, “Throw a fixed match, huh? What if I refuse?”

Di Wei’s expression suddenly changed, his voice cold: “Yang Sheng, don’t be shameless!

If you refuse, I’ll tie you up and take you to Old Top, accusing you of conspiring with the Hongsheng Union to rebel against the gang and usurp the leader’s position.

According to gang rules, you’ll be punished with the three-blade six-hole method and sent swimming.”

Yang Sheng’s face didn’t flinch at the threat.

“Bullshit. You think Old Top will believe such a ridiculous reason? I just killed the Hongsheng Union’s red pole—conspiring with them? Am I crazy, or is the One-eyed Leopard from Hongsheng Union crazy?”

Di Wei sneered, “Whether Old Top believes it doesn’t matter. The One-eyed Leopard from Hongsheng Union will cooperate with me and hand over a henchman to identify you.

With both witness and physical evidence, do you think Old Top will believe a nobody like you, or me, Di Wei?

Young man, the gang isn’t so easy to navigate. You think you can solve everything just because you can fight? Ridiculous!”

Yang Sheng stared at Di Wei for a moment before spitting out two words: “Trash!”

Di Wei was stunned, unable to believe what he heard. “What did you say?!”

“I said you’re trash!

That old man He Wenchang has been dangling the leader position over you for almost ten years, and you’ve been foolishly believing it for nearly a decade!

Hongsheng Union’s only red pole—you have the territory and strength, yet you’ve been suppressed by an old man for ten years. If you’re not trash, then who is?”

The gang was not just about fighting; it was a small political circle.

When the leader grows old and can no longer fight, he uses rules to suppress those beneath him, dangling the leader’s position as bait, giving them hope that one day they might take the seat.

The gang has rules, and the elders maintain their interests through them.

Newcomers also consider their own future benefits after rising and aging, so naturally they uphold these rules.

But the problem was that He Wenchang was practically stripping the Hongsheng Union bare, suppressing Di Wei for almost ten years without giving him a chance to rise, and Di Wei still tolerated it. What else could he be but trash?

“Damn you! You’re looking for death!”

Di Wei exploded in rage. Just as he stood up, Yang Sheng moved.

With half a step, his punch exploded like a blast!

Di Wei hastily defended but was still slammed back onto the sofa by Yang Sheng’s half-step explosive punch.

As Hongsheng Union’s only red pole, Di Wei had real skill, having fought tooth and nail for his position.

But since becoming a red pole, he had indulged in luxury, rarely fighting himself. His skills had long since deteriorated, which was why he never dared to challenge Ruan Feng in the arena.

Thinking quickly, Di Wei reached for a large mountain-cleaving knife beside the sofa.

But the next moment, Yang Sheng delivered a whip kick that tore off Di Wei’s left arm, dragging the knife free and pressing it against Di Wei’s neck.

Di Wei’s face turned pale, cold sweat pouring down.

“Yang Sheng! What do you think you’re doing?! You dare attack me—that’s insubordination! The gang will never let you off!”

Then Di Wei’s tone softened.

“If you don’t want to throw the match, then don’t. We’re all brothers in the gang. Why make this so hostile?”

A trace of contempt curled Yang Sheng’s lips, his voice calm.

“Tell me, why must I lose the next Dragon City Championship match all of a sudden?”

Di Wei was about to fabricate a reason, but the knife in Yang Sheng’s hand pressed against his throat, causing immediate pain.

“Stop! I’ll talk! I’ll talk!”

Terrified, Di Wei spilled everything about the One-eyed Leopard coming to him earlier.

Yang Sheng frowned.

He had suspected something was off about Feng Le and the Hongsheng Union’s reactions—it turned out there was this hidden truth.

Bad luck had struck him; drawing Ruan Feng in the first round was one thing, but the second round was set up by Limping Hao as a stepping stone.

Of course, throwing the match was out of the question. Yang Sheng coveted the side mission rewards for each advancement.

If he could win the Dragon City Championship, he could bring the martial arts proficiency granted by Fatty Wang out of the Reincarnation World.

Having already felt this power, Yang Sheng had no intention of giving up.

But with this new development, his original plan was ruined.

He had intended to take the Imperial Guard’s blade from the Hongsheng Union slowly, but now he would have to be more aggressive and change tactics.

Di Wei watched Yang Sheng remain still for a while and cautiously asked, “Can you let me go now?”

Yang Sheng gave Di Wei a brilliant smile, which eased Di Wei’s tense nerves.

“Brother Wei, sorry. You won’t die—Old Man He Wenchang won’t let me become a red pole otherwise.”

Before Di Wei could react, the mountain-cleaving knife grazed across his neck.

The private room door was pushed open, and some of Di Wei’s trusted henchmen appeared, their faces filled with terror at the scene.

Yang Sheng discarded the knife and stepped forward, causing Di Wei’s men to step back.

Some opened their mouths to speak but ultimately dared not utter a word, watching as Yang Sheng, who had just killed their boss, left the room.

It wasn’t cowardice—they were simply terrified by Yang Sheng’s recent exploits.

He had killed both Ruan Feng and Feng Le, two double red poles, stormed the Fulong Building with just six men, and slain Yao Hui and Luo Rong.

In just a few days, Yang Sheng’s body count had surpassed double digits.

Now, he openly defied gang rules by killing Di Wei, and in their eyes, he was a madman who slaughtered without mercy.

No one dared to stand in the way of such a ruthless madman—it was practically suicidal.