See Master Yi

"Hit them! All of you, hit them! What kind of punches are those—weak as hell!"

"Useless! Absolutely fucking useless!"

Ding Renfeng clenched a thick cigar between his teeth, exhaling smoke in frustration as he slammed his palm against the railing. Even chugging a carton of Forget-Kid Milk couldn’t extinguish his fury.

"What the hell was that performance today? If Brother Feng were in the ring, these losers would’ve been knocked out already!"

Beside him, a thug named Yao Ji immediately flattered Ding Renfeng, kissing up to him.

Hearing this, Ding Renfeng ripped off his shirt, revealing his toned upper body, and grinned wildly. "Just wait—I’ll take this round!"

Just then, one of his underlings called out, "Brother Feng, there’s some cripple with a neck brace looking for you."

"A cripple?"

Ding Renfeng’s curiosity piqued as he followed the underling’s pointing finger. His face instantly lit up with a beaming smile. "Well, well, if it isn’t Young Master Qiu! What brings you here?"

Qiu Xu, his neck tilted awkwardly, waved weakly. "Brother Feng, long time no see."

"Long time indeed. What happened to your neck?" Ding Renfeng asked, feigning concern.

Qiu Xu scowled. "Don’t even ask. I got my ass handed to me."

Nice one!

But Ding Renfeng put on an enraged front. "Who dares mess with my brother? They’ve got a death wish!"

He then slapped Qiu Xu on the back. "Don’t worry, we won’t let this slide. Let’s have a drink!"

With that, he grabbed a bottle of champagne from the side and started handing out more bottles to his gang from the nearby liquor cabinet.

"Uh, hey—"

Qiu Xu watched helplessly as bottles of expensive champagne—each worth over a thousand bucks—were distributed to the underlings. He opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words.

"A blow to Young Master Qiu’s face is a blow to our hearts! Bottoms up, everyone!" Ding Renfeng declared grandly, waving his hand.

"Bottoms up!"

The gang chugged straight from the bottles.

Qiu Xu was dumbfounded.

He was the one who got beaten up—what were they celebrating for?!

Afraid Ding Renfeng might get too drunk and declare, "Tonight’s tab is on Young Master Qiu!" he quickly interjected, "Brother Feng, we’re like family. Now that I’ve been humiliated, shouldn’t we discuss how to get revenge?"

Ding Renfeng smirked inwardly.

Qiu Xu’s father, Qiu Dafu, was a complete bastard who had treated thugs like dogs, using them and then discarding them. Now his son wanted to use them too? Dream on.

Outwardly, Ding Renfeng nodded seriously. "Brother, tell me—who did this to you?"

"Him! That guy selling snacks!"

Finally getting to the point, Qiu Xu’s mood lifted.

Selling snacks in an underground fight club? What an idiot. Must be some clown.

Ding Renfeng stroked his chin, pondering. There was something vaguely familiar about the guy hauling snack boxes around.

But when he got a clear look at An Yi’s handsome face, his expression changed.

"Holy shit, it’s him!"

Yao Ji was the first to explode, shaking with rage.

He’d recognize An Yi even if he were turned to ashes. This was the bastard who’d stolen his wallet, tricked him, and cracked his neck bone—he’d only just been discharged from the hospital two days ago!

Seeing the sheer hatred in Ding Renfeng’s underling’s eyes, Qiu Xu grinned ear to ear.

Bad blood between them?

Perfect! What’s better than killing two birds with one stone?

Ding Renfeng set down his empty champagne bottle and strode toward An Yi, his gang following like an intimidating entourage. The crowd quickly parted, making way.

"It’s happening! This is it!"

Qiu Xu’s grin stretched impossibly wide.

He could already picture An Yi lying in a pool of blood, beaten to a pulp.

These thugs were vicious fighters—too bad Broken-Leg Hou Long wasn’t here. Otherwise, An Yi would’ve lost both his legs!

"Peanuts, chips, cookies, jerky, chicken feet, Sachima…"

"Anyone want some?"

"If not, I’ll ask again."

An Yi called out, then noticed Ding Renfeng and his crew approaching.

His expression remained calm, though he frowned slightly before asking coldly, "What do you want?"

"Respects to Lord Yi!"

The underlings bowed in unison.

The spectacle was jaw-dropping. Everyone in the underground fight club turned to stare.

A chubby guy munching on chicken feet beside An Yi froze, then shrank back in confusion.

What the hell? This snack vendor is some big shot?!

Others were equally stunned.

Ding Renfeng was a notorious gangster in Jiangbei City—the top dog since Hou Long got crippled. Yet even he was calling this kid "Lord Yi"? Just who was he?

And more importantly… why would someone so powerful sneak in to sell snacks?

Some kind of weird hobby?

Ding Renfeng’s face split into a wide grin. "Lord Yi, what brings you to this underground fight club?"

"Just killing time," An Yi replied casually, subtly setting down his snack basket.

With all eyes on him, the basket was cramping his style.

"Hey, Lord Yi, between you and me, I’m a regular here. If there’s anything you wanna do or see, just say the word—we’ll make sure you have a blast!"

Ding Renfeng thumped his chest proudly.

Truth be told, despite getting his ass kicked last time, he didn’t hold much of a grudge against An Yi.

After all, if An Yi hadn’t broken Hou Long’s legs, Ding Renfeng wouldn’t be living the high life now.

Plus, he knew exactly how terrifyingly strong this kid was.

An Yi’s face darkened, his tone icy. "Back off. Don’t get in my way."

I’m here to sell snacks, damn it! How am I supposed to do that with you clowns around?

Ding Renfeng glanced at the snack basket and immediately caught on. Chuckling, he said, "Lord Yi, we’re feeling a bit peckish. How about we take all these snacks off your hands?"

"Uh… that’s not really necessary."

An Yi’s stormy expression instantly cleared, replaced by a sunny smile.

Normally, this stock would’ve taken three days to sell.

Suddenly, the thugs’ ugly mugs didn’t seem so bad.

Ding Renfeng waved grandly. "Someone take these away! I’ll pay!"

Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone, scanned the QR code, and transferred a thousand yuan. "Lord Yi, keep the change. I don’t carry small bills."

An Yi’s smile vanished, his face darkening again. "This stock’s worth at least fifteen hundred."

Damn it!

This guy’s a goddamn shark!

Fifteen hundred for this crap?!

Ding Renfeng’s grin stiffened. "Ah, right! Here’s another five hundred!"

Five hundred yuan!

That’s enough Forget-Kid Milk to last a month!

To Qiu Xu, the exchange looked like a friendly chat between old pals.

He gnashed his teeth in frustration.

Ding Renfeng had gone over like a damn lapdog.

What happened to revenge?!

Then he glared at Yao Ji—this underling had misled him, getting his hopes up for nothing.

But Yao Ji was just as confused.

Why the hell is Brother Feng bowing to this kid?