Not Beaten for Nothing

Tap, tap.

The sound of slippers shuffling up the stairs echoed through the stairwell.

The old apartment building had no soundproofing to speak of. Even with Lin Mo playing music, the faint footsteps still wormed their way into his ears with unsettling clarity.

Liu Zheng shifted restlessly on the sofa, his rear end squirming for the eighth time. He still couldn’t wrap his head around Lin Mo’s plan.

Old Bai, meanwhile, sat with his arms crossed, eyes closed as if meditating—but the faint twitching of his eyelids betrayed his inner turmoil.

Outside, the night had swallowed the last remnants of daylight. Lin Mo gazed through the window and spoke softly.

"It’s about time. They’re coming."

Old Bai and Liu Zheng exchanged glances, skepticism flickering in their eyes. How could he possibly know that?

No sooner had the words left Lin Mo’s lips than a heavy knock thudded against the door.

Bang, bang, bang!

"Dad, it’s me! I’m home."

The voice was gentle, but the moment it reached Old Yang’s ears, his entire body stiffened. His face drained of color.

He sprang up from the sofa, whirling toward Liu Zheng and Old Bai, shaking his head frantically. His lips formed silent words: "That’s not my son’s voice!"

A sharp glint flashed in Liu Zheng and Old Bai’s eyes. In an instant, they snapped into action.

Moving like geckos, they pressed themselves against the walls flanking the door. Liu Zheng jerked his chin toward Old Yang, who was still frozen in shock, signaling him to answer.

Old Yang’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, forcing down the fear clawing at his throat. He plastered on a stiff smile and called out in a trembling voice.

"Ah—coming, coming!"

Then, hesitantly, he shuffled toward the door.

He unlatched the wooden inner door first, peering through the cold iron bars of the security gate at the man outside.

A stranger. A completely unfamiliar face.

There was no doubt in his mind—this was not his son.

Remembering Lin Mo’s repeated warnings, he played along, grumbling as he unlocked the gate.

"How many times have I told you to bring your keys? Am I your doorman now?"

The man outside blinked in surprise but recovered instantly, slipping into the role with practiced ease. A perfectly contrite expression settled on his face.

"Sorry, Dad. I forgot them."

Head bowed, he stepped inside.

The moment his foot fully crossed the threshold, a sharp shout exploded from the living room.

"Now!"

The man barely had time to react before two burly figures lunged at him from behind.

His reflexes were unnaturally quick. Sensing the ambush, he spun around, his gaze locking onto Old Bai’s eyes with eerie precision.

A flicker of sinister red flashed deep within his pupils as he uttered a low, guttural whisper.

"I am not your enemy… he is."

"I am not your enemy… he is."

Old Bai’s charge faltered mid-step. The sharp, disciplined focus of a soldier’s eyes clouded over, turning hazy and confused.

His expression softened as he looked at the stranger—then hardened into icy hostility when he turned toward Liu Zheng.

Liu Zheng barely had time to register the blur of motion before Old Bai’s fist—the size of a sand pot—slammed into his face.

"Old Bai, have you lost your damn—"

The rest of his sentence was cut short as an overwhelming force sent him crashing to the floor.

When it came to hand-to-hand combat, Liu Zheng was no match for Old Bai’s military-trained brutality.

Joints locked. Punches rained down. Every strike landed with bone-jarring impact, the sound alone enough to make one’s blood run cold.

Liu Zheng howled in pain, reduced to desperate pleas.

"Stop! I yield! Lin Mo, help! Old Bai’s gonna kill me!"

The stranger let out a cold chuckle, ignoring Liu Zheng’s plight as he turned his attention to Old Yang, who stood petrified.

"You old fool! You actually broke free of my control?!"

His eyes burned with malice as he raised his foot, aiming a vicious kick straight at Old Yang’s gut.

If that blow connected, Old Yang wouldn’t walk away with half his life intact.

But in the split second before impact, a leg sliced through the air from the side—swift, precise, and carrying the weight of a hammer.

Thud!

Lin Mo’s shin intercepted the kick with a bone-deep impact.

A sharp pain lanced up the stranger’s leg, forcing a hiss through his teeth.

Lin Mo spared a glance at Liu Zheng, who was still being pummeled into the floor, and sighed.

"Looks like you need to work on your combat skills."

Without another word, Lin Mo twisted his leg, unleashing an explosive surge of force.

The stranger’s eyes widened as an irresistible power wrenched his ankle, sending him flying backward.

Crash!

His body smashed into the wall with enough force to shake loose chunks of plaster.

Lin Mo lowered his leg, not even bothering to look at the man now slumped in the corner. Instead, he grabbed Old Bai by the collar and slapped him—once, hard.

A single strike was all it took to shatter the energy muddling Old Bai’s mind.

The stranger groaned, struggling to rise, but his body refused to obey. Snarling, he glared at Lin Mo and spat, "Look at me!"

Lin Mo knew exactly what the man was trying to do—but he looked anyway.

The stranger’s lips curled in triumph. Even if it drained the last of his strength, he would seize control of this man.

Yet when that crimson glow flickered in Lin Mo’s eyes… nothing happened.

Instead, Lin Mo raised his hand and smacked the stranger’s head with casual indifference, knocking him out cold.

If he’d wanted to, that earlier kick could have shattered the man’s spine. But Lin Mo needed him alive—otherwise, Liu Zheng and Old Bai would have nothing to show for their efforts.

When Old Bai finally came to, he had no memory of pummeling Liu Zheng into the ground.

He clutched his throbbing head, wincing at the stinging pain on his cheek.

"What the hell? Who hit me?"

Liu Zheng, still sprawled on the floor, groaned. "I’d like to hit you right now."

Old Bai blinked, finally noticing Liu Zheng’s bruised and battered face.

"Wait—what happened to you?!"

Lin Mo turned to Old Yang, who stood frozen in shock.

"Old Yang, grab me some old clothes—anything you don’t need."

Snapping out of his daze, Old Yang nodded wordlessly and hurried into the bedroom.

Lin Mo watched as Liu Zheng and Old Bai picked themselves up. "This guy’s mental energy is off the charts. One look into his eyes, and he’s got you."

He pointed at the unconscious man.

"Of course, that’s only if you meet his gaze."

Liu Zheng leaned against the doorframe, eyeing the stranger warily.

"I thought it was some kind of verbal hypnosis, working over time. Didn’t expect it to be this overpowered."

Lin Mo shook his head.

"Not really. The ability drains his energy fast. On someone like you, it might not even stick. But he got lucky—he caught Old Bai."

Old Bai stalked to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of chilled liquor, and pressed it to his swollen face without a word.

He wasn’t a gifted fighter or a supernatural. Just a soldier—a damn good one, but still just a man.

Liu Zheng, nursing his own injuries, recognized the frustration in Old Bai’s silence. He limped over and snatched the bottle, pressing it to his bruised ribs.

"I’m the one who got beaten to a pulp here."

Lin Mo nodded. "Worth it. Hand this guy over, and you’ll get your ticket to meet Dongfang Shuye."