Hun Hun 04

Seeing the undisguised killing intent in Fang Zhiyi's eyes, Old Lady Wang backed down for the first time. She berated and hurried her son and daughter-in-law to help Wang Xiaoqiang downstairs, still cursing under her breath. But when she turned the corner and caught Fang Zhiyi’s deathly cold stare, a shiver ran down her spine, and she quickened her pace.

"That little brat has become so vicious all of a sudden?" Old Lady Wang leaned against the door to calm herself. Glancing at her precious grandson clutching his groin in pain and her panicked son and daughter-in-law, her anger flared, and she started yelling again.

The old building had thin walls, and Fang Zhiyi, lying on the sofa upstairs with his hands behind his head, listened to the old woman’s hysterical screams with a satisfied smirk.

The next morning, Fang Zhiyi’s phone rang.

"Hey, boss."

A hoarse male voice on the other end summoned him to lead a fight, just as expected.

Fang Zhiyi agreed readily and immediately contacted Old Yu and others, detailing the time and location of the brawl.

Hanging up, he stormed out with his steel pipe in hand, slamming the door so hard it shook the walls. The commotion drew curious glances from the neighbors across the hall. Fang Zhiyi, cigarette dangling from his lips and the sharpened pipe in his grip, shot them a menacing glare. The woman who had been about to speak shut her mouth and retreated inside, closing the door behind her. They had all overheard the commotion last night—though they didn’t know why this small-time thug had suddenly grown a backbone, it was best not to provoke someone like him.

After all, refined white-collar workers like them had no business tangling with gutter trash.

Downstairs, Fang Zhiyi bumped into Father Li, who was taking Tiantian to kindergarten.

"Brother Fang," Tiantian greeted politely, as always.

Fang Zhiyi quickly spat out his cigarette onto Old Lady Wang’s doorstep and crushed it underfoot. "Hey, off to school? Be good, okay?"

Father Li eyed the steel pipe with concern. "Xiao Fang, what’s this about?"

Just then, the door behind Fang Zhiyi creaked open, and Old Lady Wang peeked out. Spotting the cigarette butt on her doorstep and then Fang Zhiyi, she opened her mouth to unleash another tirade—until Fang Zhiyi raised his pipe.

"Some idiots are stepping on our turf. I’m leading a crew of dozens today to teach them a lesson!"

Old Lady Wang’s words died in her throat. After a hesitant pause, she withdrew back inside.

Last night hadn’t been a dream—this punk really was ruthless!

Father Li frowned. "Xiao Fang, my company’s hiring young workers. The job’s tough, but it’s stable. Maybe you could—"

Fang Zhiyi turned and walked away without another word. Father Li was a decent man, but his do-gooder lecturing was unbearable. "See you tonight, Tiantian!"

Tiantian beamed. "Bye, Brother Fang!"

Father Li sighed. Turning around, he locked eyes with Old Lady Wang, who had just stepped outside again. "Good morning, Granny Wang."

Old Lady Wang glanced at him and then at Tiantian, scoffing. "Treating a worthless girl like some kind of treasure."

Father Li’s face stiffened, but he forced a smile and led Tiantian away.

"Daddy, what’s a ‘worthless girl’?"

Thanks to prior arrangements, Fang Zhiyi kept a close watch during the fight. Unlike the original owner of this body, who’d charge in recklessly, he stayed back, directing the action. The opposing side were seasoned troublemakers too—a few hits wouldn’t faze them.

Then he spotted the man about to get stabbed. Fang Zhiyi lunged forward, kicking him to the ground just in time.

As police sirens wailed, Fang Zhiyi obediently stashed his pipe in the grass, then crouched with his hands on his head, waiting to be arrested.

With no fatalities and both sides at fault, the case was straightforward. Fang Zhiyi had it easiest—sipping cola, he chatted idly with two officers he recognized from Old Yu’s place.

When Section Chief Zhang arrived, he and Fang Zhiyi spoke at length, finalizing details of their plan before Zhang stormed out in feigned fury.

"Stubborn! Absolutely stubborn! He refuses to talk!" His voice boomed loud enough for everyone outside to hear.

Fang Zhiyi was released the next day. Normally, he’d have been held for three to five days, but someone had bailed him out.

Outside, he spotted Brother Dong’s boss—an ordinary-looking middle-aged man in an old black car, who greeted him with an enthusiastic hug.

Fang Zhiyi knew Section Chief Zhang’s planted rumors had worked. With no deaths this time and his "loyalty" on full display, the boss had bailed him out to save face.

At the welcome banquet, the boss announced that Fang Zhiyi would now oversee their loan business, officially promoting him. As for the previous manager, Brother Dong, he’d been arrested two days prior for violent debt collection. With ironclad evidence, he faced at least five years in prison—another step in Section Chief Zhang’s plan.

After the meal, Fang Zhiyi pretended to be drunk and left. Though he’d asked Little Hei to keep watch, he couldn’t shake the fear of Tiantian suffering harm again.

Two tattooed thugs helped him home, their rowdy voices echoing through the hallway. None of the neighbors dared to intervene.

As he entered his apartment, Fang Zhiyi glanced at the door across from his, recalling the couple’s words to Tiantian’s mother. A faint smirk curled his lips.

"Refined couple? Hah."

Luo Chenghui and Xie Xiaoli lived there—he worked in sales at a small company, while she co-owned a nail salon with a friend. Their social media was a parade of designer bags and watches, all carefully curated for a picture-perfect life.

Now that he had authority, Fang Zhiyi ordered his men to dig into the couple’s finances. People this vain were bound to be drowning in debt.

Sure enough, his lackeys reported that the duo juggled multiple maxed-out credit cards—though they hadn’t borrowed from Fang Zhiyi’s crew. They were masters of robbing Peter to pay Paul, never missing a payment.

Xie Xiaoli slept in, then primped herself before strutting into the salon. Her friend, though annoyed by her tardiness, said nothing—Xie Xiaoli often showed up late, sometimes even getting out of bed multiple times just to film the perfect "effortlessly chic" video.

Not long after she arrived, a sleek sports car pulled up outside. A young woman stepped out, designer bag in tow, exuding an air of luxury.

She entered the salon for a manicure. As a new customer, the owner fawned over her, especially when she said, "Money’s no issue—just make it pretty." Xie Xiaoli, still snapping selfies in the background, watched with envy burning in her eyes.