Chapter Eighty-Six: The Enemies of the Yang Family

Su Tong was startled, turning his head to look, his heart tightening instantly.

He saw that the car driven by Da Long had collided with another vehicle—more precisely, Da Long’s car had been hit. The other car’s front was smashed directly into the driver’s side door, which was severely deformed.

“Da Long.” When Su Tong turned to look, the offending vehicle was reversing, its headlights shattered, fragments scattered across the ground. After backing up several meters, the car stopped, and two men dressed in black stepped out.

Da Long kicked open the warped door, clutching his left arm, his face covered in blood as he walked out.

Su Tong hurried over; he could tell that the crash had been deliberate.

The two men who climbed out of the offending car were calm, showing not a trace of panic over the accident.

“Whose men are you?” Da Long confronted the two as soon as he got out.

Su Tong stepped forward. “Da Long, are you alright?”

Da Long shook his head, but his eyes remained wary, fixed on the two men. He spoke to Su Tong in a low voice, “Go upstairs. Getting involved won’t do you any good.”

Su Tong laughed loudly. “Da Long, the first time I met you, you were so imposing; the second time, you were beset by a gang of thugs, looking pretty miserable... This time, it seems even worse. Each encounter more tragic than the last.”

His sarcasm didn’t anger Da Long—instead, it moved him slightly.

It was clear Su Tong didn’t intend to stand aside.

“Where did this ignorant brat come from? Doesn’t know the limits of the sky, huh? Get involved and you might just lose your life,” said one of the black-clad men coldly, glancing at Su Tong.

“Don’t waste time. Our purpose is to deliver a warning to the Yang family,” the other spoke in an icy tone.

Da Long’s expression changed. “Our Yang family follows the rules—why are you targeting us? Do you think we’re pushovers?”

The man’s face remained cold. “That’s for your family to reflect upon. We’re just following orders. You’re to return with one arm.”

Su Tong’s heart trembled. This world was indeed more complicated than he’d imagined.

Families like Da Long’s and Sister Ya Ya’s, with such formidable talents, seemed nonetheless constrained by others.

Da Long’s strength, Su Tong knew well. He possessed Wei Yan’s combat experience and techniques, but his physical abilities were barely above average—he’d be no match for Da Long in a head-on confrontation.

Sister Ya Ya was unfathomable; Su Tong had no idea how strong she truly was, only that the gap between them was enormous.

“If you want my arm, come and take it,” Da Long snarled, his bloodied face twisted, his left arm snapping back into place with a crack.

“Hah, in your current state, one of me is more than enough,” the bespectacled black-clad man sneered, stepping forward, his stature almost matching Da Long’s.

Su Tong was about to offer to fight, but Da Long gestured for him to step back, his eyes resolute.

“I thought you two cowards would attack together. One-on-one, the Yang family has never feared anyone.” Da Long advanced decisively, swinging his fist.

Bang!

The bespectacled man raised his own fist; the two blows collided, both men staggering back—Da Long retreated two steps, his opponent four.

“From the Shi family?” Da Long sneered. “Don’t you know the Yang family is famed for its strength? You dare challenge me head-to-head?”

The bespectacled man rubbed his fist, disdain flickering in his eyes. “Before I came, someone told me that in a direct fight with you, I’d be pushed back at least five steps. Looks like your reputation is overrated—you’re not as formidable as the legends say. Or is it because you’ve been lost in drink and debauchery lately, your body hollowed out?”

“Hah, I suppose the Yang family has been in decline since the heavy blow a few months ago, fallen from grace, never to recover,” the other black-clad man said coldly.

“You talk too much. If you want to send the Shi witch, that’d be more like it. Just you little upstarts coming to challenge me—does the Shi family not fear losing morale, letting you lose your confidence?” Da Long was fierce, swinging his arms wide, advancing again.

“You overestimate yourself. If the witch intervened, among your family’s younger generation, who could withstand her besides the goddess?” the other black-clad man sneered.

The bespectacled youth’s face changed slightly as Da Long attacked with ferocity. Da Long was naturally gifted, unmatched among his peers since childhood; no one dared compete with him in raw strength.

“Don’t fight him head-on—watch his weakness, the left arm,” the other man reminded his companion.

“Of course I know. Isn’t he just a simple brute?” the bespectacled youth retorted stubbornly, now targeting Da Long’s injured left arm.

Su Tong frowned. Da Long was clearly stronger, but his left arm had been wounded in the crash, and the opponent refused to engage directly, putting Da Long in danger.

From the look of things, neither side intended a fight to the death. Su Tong pondered whether to intervene.

Bang!

Da Long’s face flushed red, stumbling back, clutching his chest.

The bespectacled man laughed. “So this is the legendary Da Long—aside from brute force, there’s nothing remarkable about you.”

Da Long spat blood, advancing again, but dared not use his left arm.

Bang!

Bang!

After only a few exchanges, both Da Long and the bespectacled man took blows from each other.

Da Long’s face was bloodied, spitting out another mouthful, while the other’s face twisted in pain, though he quickly recovered.

Clearly, Da Long was more seriously injured.

“Da Long, don’t force yourself. You’re already hurt—this isn’t fair, and you shouldn’t push it,” Su Tong couldn’t stand it. Da Long’s pride would be his undoing.

“Kid, getting too close to the Yang family won’t do you any good. I’ll give you a chance—turn your back on them and join us. Becoming a star will be within reach; the Yang family won’t dare give you any opportunities this year,” the black-clad youth who hadn’t yet fought watched Su Tong, a trace of superiority in his gaze.

Su Tong asked, “Do you have any girls more beautiful than Sister Fei Fei?”

The two black-clad men were stunned, their faces darkening. “A toad lusting after a swan—do you think your singing talent is that impressive?”

Da Long glared at Su Tong—so this kid got close to Fei Fei out of desire for her beauty, after all.

“If you think it’s nothing special, why ask me to switch sides?” Su Tong laughed, though inwardly he mused: the entertainment industry’s chaos wasn’t just rumor; it seemed black forces truly intervened, and not just any ordinary ones.

The two men were nearly infuriated by Su Tong’s words—what plea, this was clearly a threat.

“Every year, hundreds of thousands disappear in Great Qin, never to be found again. Be careful you don’t vanish one day as well,” they threatened, unabashed.

Su Tong’s face chilled. He’d already died once—who feared whom now? “I think you’d better run while you can. I have countless fans—at a wave of my arm, beauties rain down, at a shout, heroes gather like clouds.”

“Ignorant fool,” the black-clad man who hadn’t yet acted shook his head, sympathy in his gaze, as he strode toward Su Tong.