Chapter Nineteen: The Ache

A line of cars stretched endlessly, packed tightly along the Nanxiang Bridge segment, their frustrated horns echoing all around. Drivers with short tempers raised their voices in curses and shouts, their arrogant and aggressive demeanor earning plenty of contemptuous glares from more civilized motorists.

Looking ahead and behind, trapped with nowhere to go, Lin Yang angrily slapped the steering wheel and reached for the radio, which immediately broadcasted the latest traffic update.

“There has been a multiple-car rear-end collision at the Nanxiang Bridge—five vehicles involved, resulting in two fatalities and five injuries. The traffic order is currently paralyzed, causing the biggest traffic jam in Jin Hai City in the past ten years. Traffic police are en route to handle the situation. We ask all drivers to wait patiently and cooperate with instructions to gradually disperse. Please drive safely when you’re out and about. I wish for you…” The traffic update ended, fading into elegant music.

Lin Yang was speechless after listening, sighing inwardly at his misfortune—when luck turns, even drinking water can chip your teeth. Glancing at Leng Nini in the passenger seat, whose displeasure was obvious, he shrugged helplessly, expressing his resignation to the unexpected situation.

Leng Nini pouted angrily, shaking herself in a playful, petulant manner, causing her chest to sway, which made Lin Yang’s blood surge with heat.

He quickly turned his face away and rubbed his nose, pretending nothing had happened. Looking out, he saw several uniformed traffic police jogging toward the site of the accident.

“It’s over. The traffic police haven’t even reached the scene. This won’t be quick. We’ll be lucky if we’re home before dark.” Watching the officers hurry past, Lin Yang spread his hands in exasperation, his face twisted in bitterness as the sky above was already awash with sunset colors.

As time passed, people began stepping out of their vehicles in the jammed roadway. Before long, the blocked section had turned into an open-air amusement park, bustling with activity. People chatted, exercised, danced aerobics, played chess, badminton, sang, and more—making the best of the chaos.

But amid the disorder, opportunistic pickpockets and troublemakers appeared in greater numbers. Lin Yang even noticed some young couples taking advantage of the situation for a clandestine tryst.

About ten meters from Lin Yang and Leng Nini, the vehicle carrying a group of men in black was parked.

“Brother Yu, now’s the best time to make a move amid the chaos.” The monkey-faced man beside the big boss in black played with a spring-loaded knife as he spoke, his sinister gaze occasionally flicking toward Lin Yang, full of bloodlust.

The big boss in black lowered his head in silence, deep in thought. He knew that striking now would increase their chances of success, and if done carefully, they could leave no trace—perhaps even avoid legal consequences.

But after years in the underworld, experience had taught him that the seemingly harmless young man ahead was anything but simple. That was why he hadn’t acted yet. A killing blow—one strike, no mistake—had kept him alive all these years.

Half an hour passed, and the congested road showed no sign of clearing. Drivers who had initially enjoyed the “open-air amusement park” grew restless, and chaos spread like fog, erupting into a chorus of curses and complaints across the Nanxiang Bridge.

Beauty draws attention anywhere, and Leng Nini’s youthful allure attracted a swarm of lecherous men, who began to surround the Audi sedan.

Sensing the moment was ripe, after careful consideration, the big boss in black gave a low, decisive command: “Now. Monkey, do it.”

As soon as the words were spoken, a shadow flickered out of the car. The monkey-faced man, who had been fiddling with his spring-loaded knife, now stood outside, the blade hidden in his sleeve.

“Damn it, you can’t even move. It’s been almost an hour, and I’m about to burst.” The monkey-faced man quickly blended into the chaotic crowd, moving slowly toward the red Mercedes sports car, cursing convincingly as he went. With such acting skills, an Oscar would be well within reach.

Lin Yang, chatting casually with Leng Nini, was unaware of the danger approaching.

It took the monkey-faced man ten minutes to cover the ten-meter distance—turtle slow, but deliberate.

Within arm’s reach of Lin Yang, the man’s lips twisted into a cold smile, his eyes locked on Lin Yang’s neck. His left hand, concealed by his sleeve, carefully slipped through a gap in the crowd, aiming to stab Lin Yang.

Suddenly, Lin Yang jolted as if electrified, his skin prickling with fear. Thanks to his training in internal martial arts, his senses were far keener than most; when danger approached, his hair would stand on end. Instinctively, he ducked.

A metallic clang rang out, piercing Lin Yang’s ears. Leng Nini, sitting beside him, turned to see a spring-loaded knife embedded in the windshield, its tip inside—evidence of the assailant’s vicious force, clearly a trained hand.

Having dodged the fatal strike, Lin Yang threw a punch backward without even looking. The force was so great that the air seemed to crackle. His time in the criminal world had ingrained in him the belief that mercy to an enemy is cruelty to oneself—especially when someone was out for his life. He held nothing back.

With a sickening crunch, a pig-like scream burst forth—the punch had landed squarely on the attacker’s groin. Lin Yang’s trained fists could smash five centimeters of wood; now, crashing into the softest spot, it was impossible not to shatter.

“Damn, Monkey blew it. That kid’s a martial artist.” The big boss in black, leaning in the back seat of the black Buick, sat up straight, his pupils contracted, brows furrowed tightly, muttering in a low voice. He knew Monkey’s skills well; for someone to dodge a surprise attack and counter, only an expert could do it.

With Monkey’s agonized screams, the lecherous crowd around the Audi scattered like frightened birds, leaving only the monkey-faced man writhing on the ground, clutching his crotch and howling in pain, his face turned the color of liver.

His cries quickly drew countless eyes. Lying on the ground, his undignified suffering made him the center of attention; even the beautiful Leng Nini, the Audi sedan, and the handsome Lin Yang seemed mere background.

“Brother Yu, what should we do?” The young punk with cropped blond hair in the Buick’s driver’s seat glanced anxiously at the silent big boss in back.

“Guozi, I know you’re worried about your brother, but in this business, rules are rules.” The man called Brother Yu spoke sternly, fiddling with his metal lighter, clearly torn. He cared about his men, but duty came first.

“I know.” Guozi dared not say more. In their world, you took money and risked your life—a hard, thankless job where exposure meant years in prison or, if unlucky, a bullet to the head. Helpless, he watched Monkey writhing on the ground, his gaze turning to Lin Yang, filled with hatred, as if blaming him for all that might follow.

“Who sent you?” Lin Yang jumped from the car, staring down at the monkey-faced man and demanding bluntly.

The crowd, used to street fights, looked away in discomfort or watched eagerly, enjoying the spectacle.

The monkey-faced man snorted coldly, shifting his gaze and biting his lips—he had long accepted the possibility of death, but Lin Yang was now etched into his bones as an enemy. With his groin destroyed, he was no different from a eunuch; his days of chasing women over, a despair for someone addicted to vice.

“Not talking? Doesn’t matter, I can guess.” Lin Yang remained calm, though anger simmered inside. To attempt murder in broad daylight—if the attacker had used a sniper rifle, even his martial skills and inner energy would be no match for bullets.

After a moment’s hesitation, Lin Yang cursed, “Get lost.” It wasn’t mercy—he wouldn’t challenge the law in front of so many witnesses, and he wanted to let out the line for bigger fish.

Surprised at first, the monkey-faced man stared blankly, then scrambled away, not stopping even as he passed the black Buick and silver van. He was clever enough to know when to retreat—hence Brother Yu’s respect.

Watching his figure disappear, Lin Yang felt disappointed; his plan to catch bigger prey had failed, and he had not found the hidden mastermind, a lingering threat that made his brow furrow.

After this assassination attempt, everyone on the Nanxiang Bridge became cautious, staying inside their cars for fear of becoming collateral damage.

The silence and emptiness made it impossible for attackers to exploit chaos. Lin Yang knew he had escaped a disaster today, but whether he could stay lucky was uncertain. It strengthened his resolve to improve his skills.

Leng Nini’s warning had been right—Jiang Tao was a lawless man, vengeful to the extreme, and with powerful backing, he was a troublesome adversary.

“Brother Yang, I’m sorry for causing you trouble.” Leng Nini, after struggling to pull the spring-loaded knife from the windshield, weighed it in her hand and turned to Lin Yang, whose brows were drawn tighter than ever, apologizing.

“Haha, it’s nothing. Besides, you call me Brother Yang—standing up for my little sister is only natural, isn’t it?” Lin Yang grinned mischievously, his rogue-like demeanor a stark contrast to his earlier heroism.

“Oh, thank you,” Leng Nini replied softly, a hint of disappointment in her voice. She secretly wished their sibling bond would take on a new flavor.

“It’s open! Damn, finally open!” Voices of excitement mixed with complaints echoed from the drivers.