Chapter 42: Returning the Favor

Wu Zhiming was practically kicked out of the hospital room by Song Siqing. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. He knew exactly what she was up to—trying to seduce him into divorcing Yao Jing. Well, two could play at that game, and he was more than ready to turn the tables.

Inside the room, Song Siqing was fuming. She finally got a chance to be alone with Wu Zhiming and had put all her carefully studied tactics into play. But Wu Zhiming, with his infuriating smugness, had completely bypassed the emotional lead-up and went straight to the physical. What kind of man thinks of doing such a thing in a hospital room?

"Is he crazy? Or is he just messing with me?" she muttered to herself. 

She was convinced it was the latter. When he left, his grin wasn't one of disappointment; it was playful, almost mocking. 

"You bastard! I've been fighting off all sorts of creeps since elementary school to help Yao Jing. Do you think I can't handle a nouveau riche like you?" she growled through gritted teeth.

Just then, her phone buzzed. 

She glanced at the screen to see a WeChat message from Zhou Wenwei: "I heard you're in the hospital. Are you okay? Do you need me to come and see you?"

Seeing Zhou Wenwei's message, Song Siqing's lips curled into a sardonic smile.

"First, I'll deal with He Shuhui to get some practice in. Then, Wu Zhiming, you're next," she thought to herself.

Downstairs in the hospital parking lot, Wu Zhiming got into the car. Apart from Dong Jian, Tan Lang was also in the car. 

Tan Lang, sitting in the front passenger seat, turned to Wu Zhiming and reported, "The guys who caused trouble have been taken care of. No traces left."

"Good," Wu Zhiming nodded, "Let's find this Ah Yong next."

"Got it," Dong Jian replied as he started the engine and drove off. 

In the back seat, Wu Zhiming leaned back, closing his eyes. He didn't say a word.

Tan Lang kept glancing back, looking like he wanted to say something but hesitated. 

"Spit it out," Wu Zhiming said, eyes still closed.

"Boss, I messed up. Please punish me," Tan Lang confessed.

Wu Zhiming opened his eyes and looked at Tan Lang. "You mentioned someone stopped you when you were leaving the underground parking lot?"

"Yeah, the guy was about fifth tier in terms of strength," Tan Lang replied.

"Fifth tier… That's good enough to be in the top 500 on the Tianlong list. This person isn't one of Yang Sandao's," Wu Zhiming deduced.

"Then why'd he block me?" Tan Lang asked, puzzled.

"If he was with Yang Sandao, he would've captured Yao Jing right away. She wouldn't have made it out of the parking lot," Wu Zhiming explained.

"So, his whole purpose was just to stall me," Tan Lang concluded.

Wu Zhiming turned to Dong Jian. "Did you find out who this guy was?"

"The body was taken by the police. We'd have to infiltrate the police station to get more info. Unfortunately, we don't have anyone skilled in that right now. Dishu is still on the battlefield abroad," Dong Jian replied.

"Get Dishu back here. Things are about to heat up in Haixia City," Wu Zhiming ordered.

"Understood," Dong Jian nodded.

The car continued down the road, finally pulling up in front of a new club called "Hepburn." It was the latest and swankiest spot in Haixia City, launched by Yang Sandao. Now, it's the go-to place for the city's nightlife.

Even at midnight, the entrance was bustling with dozens of promoters. 

After parking the car, Dong Jian turned to Wu Zhiming. "Young master, this is a straightforward job. Let Tan Lang handle it."

### "Let's go together," Wu Zhiming said, pushing open the car door and stepping out. "Yang Sandao sent me two gifts. It's only polite I return the favor."

Tan Lang followed closely behind Wu Zhiming, his eyes brimming with a deadly intent. If it weren't for the guy who intercepted him, Tan Lang wouldn't have lost the target. Wu Zhiming believed this incident had nothing to do with Yang Sandao, but Tan Lang wasn't the type to draw fine distinctions. In his mind, Yang Sandao was the one who messed up his mission.

Dong Jian stayed in the car. He was a strategist, always working behind the scenes. He never got involved in the dirty work.

As Wu Zhiming and Tan Lang approached the entrance of the nightclub, a promoter immediately greeted them. 

"Hi there, gentlemen! Do you have a reservation?" the promoter asked with a bright smile.

"We're here to see Yong Ge," Wu Zhiming replied, smiling back.

"Oh, friends of Yong Ge! Right this way, please," the promoter said, leading them into the club.

They walked through a long, narrow hallway illuminated by an array of colorful lights. When they entered the main area of the club, the pounding music hit them like a wall of sound.

Inside, the DJ, wearing nothing but skimpy lingerie, was energetically bouncing to the beats. Her curvaceous body barely covered by the tiny outfit. The dance floor was packed with people swaying to the rhythm, while the tables were crowded with groups clinking glasses and toasting each other. 

The mix of music, flesh, and alcohol created an atmosphere ripe for excitement. Wu Zhiming, at twenty-eight, wasn't beyond enjoying a night out, but places like this weren't his scene. He found them smoky, filled with cheap things—cheap drinks, cheap emotions. 

Bar romance, he mused, was the cheapest of all. Often, all it took was a bit of alcohol and a decent-looking face to score a fling that ended with the sunrise. Wu Zhiming had spent his first twenty-eight years either cowering or clawing his way up. Bars had never been part of that equation.

However, that didn't mean he was clueless about bars. One of his best friends practically lived in them and had taught Wu Zhiming a lot about the nightlife and its unwritten rules. Even if he hadn't seen it all firsthand, he knew enough to blend in seamlessly.

The promoter led Wu Zhiming and Tan Lang across the crowded lounge area. Several heavily made-up women approached Wu Zhiming, some even brushing up against him. With his striking looks, Wu Zhiming could easily turn heads and change the way many men saw things.

Tan Lang, playing the role of bodyguard, kept his face stern, pushing away any woman who got too close. Their curses followed in their wake, but Tan Lang didn't flinch.

The promoter finally brought them to a booth near the DJ stand. Yong Ge, also known as Ah Yong, was there, drinking with a few others.

"Yong Ge, your friends are here!" the promoter announced.

Ah Yong looked confused, his gaze shifting to Wu Zhiming. The flashing lights cast shadows over Wu Zhiming's face, making it hard to see his features clearly.

"Who the hell are you?" Ah Yong asked. He'd just arrived at the club and had barely started drinking, so he knew for sure he didn't recognize this guy.

Wu Zhiming smiled and stepped into the booth. He gently tapped the woman next to Ah Yong, signaling her to move aside.

Puzzled, she slid over to make room. 

Wu Zhiming took a seat and introduced himself, "I'm Wu Zhiming."

The music was blaring so loudly that Ah Yong couldn't catch his name. Frowning, he shouted, "Who the hell are you?"

Wu Zhiming glanced at Tan Lang, then pointed towards the DJ stand and mimed a 'shush' motion.

Tan Lang nodded and made his way over to the DJ booth.

Two bouncers stepped in to block Tan Lang's path. He simply grinned and delivered a punch to each of their guts. They crumpled to the ground, clutching their stomachs in pain.

Tan Lang climbed onto the DJ booth and tapped the shoulder of the DJ, who was energetically bouncing to the beat.

She looked at him, confused, and pulled off her headphones. 

"Turn off the music for a bit. My boss wants to talk," Tan Lang said firmly.

"Are you nuts? Who the hell is your boss to make me stop the music?" she snapped back, clearly annoyed.

"My boss is Wu Zhiming," Tan Lang replied with a slight smirk.

"Who the hell is Wu Zhiming? Never heard of him. Stop messing around. This place belongs to Laughing Tiger. Don't make trouble," she shot back, her tone dismissive.

Tan Lang's smirk turned into a cold, menacing smile. He raised his hand and slammed it down hard on the control panel.

Boom!

The entire console shattered in the middle, sending a sharp, jarring noise through the speakers before plunging the club into sudden silence.

The clubbers, who had been dancing wildly, paused and turned their heads towards the DJ booth, puzzled.

The DJ stood there, stunned, and then screamed, "Security! Security!"

Across the room, the bar's security guards were already rushing towards Tan Lang.

"I said, I am Wu Zhiming," Wu Zhiming announced calmly into the silence.

Wu Zhiming? Ah Yong's face twisted in confusion for a moment. The name sounded vaguely familiar. Then, his eyes widened in sudden recognition. He had sent his men to kidnap Yao Jing tonight, hoping to lure out Wu Zhiming. When his goons went silent, and he heard Yao Jing had ended up at the police station, he thought the plan had failed. Now, of all places, Wu Zhiming showed up here, where Ah Yong had come to drink and blow off steam!

How did that old saying go?

Ah Yong wasn't well-versed in literature, so he couldn't quite recall. All he could manage was a startled exclamation. 

"Holy shit!"

Before Ah Yong could react further, Wu Zhiming grabbed an empty glass from the table and hurled it straight at Ah Yong's face.

Crash!

The glass shattered against Ah Yong's face, sending shards flying and a cry of pain as he fell back, slamming into the sofa.

Wu Zhiming stood up, grabbed a freshly opened bottle of Mingshi liquor, and, without hesitation, smashed it down onto Ah Yong's head.

Thud!

The three-pound bottle exploded into pieces, a mix of liquor, glass fragments, and Ah Yong's blood splattering across the floor.

Ah Yong was left dazed, severely injured.

Ah Yong's friends and underlings finally snapped out of their stupor. They grabbed whatever they could find—bottles, chairs, anything—and charged at Wu Zhiming. But by then, Tan Lang was already by his side.

Tan Lang stood there, his eyes cold and menacing, watching the mob approach.

"Don't kill anyone," Wu Zhiming said coolly.

Tan Lang's grin returned. "Got it, boss," he replied, his voice laced with dark amusement.