Chapter 76: The Assassin

At Nightwave Bar, Ye Wuhua was fuming. The bruises on his face hadn’t healed yet, so instead of frequenting his usual nightclubs for pleasure, he picked a random bar and ordered a drink.

He took a sip, spat in disgust, then smashed the glass onto the floor and cursed, “What the hell is this? Can’t you bring me something decent? Do you think I can’t afford it?”

Not long ago, he’d been beaten up by Gouzaibo and his crew, so badly he’d ended up in the hospital for a week, and his face was still recovering. While lying in the hospital, he’d wanted to find someone to teach Gouzaibo and Lu Feng a lesson, but his father had put a stop to it.

True, his family was rich, but money alone wasn’t enough to risk a feud with a gang. The thugs in that world had nothing to lose, and if things turned ugly, no amount of wealth could guarantee safety.

“Sir, you asked for something strong. That’s vodka—high-proof white spirit,” the bartender explained.

“So what, you think I’ve never tasted good liquor? I’ve drunk more fine spirits than you’ve ever pissed,” Ye Wuhua snapped, unable to contain his fury, lashing out at anyone in his path.

“I’ve never drunk piss,” the bartender replied coolly—Nightwave Bar had powerful backing, and the staff weren’t easily intimidated.

“Damn you! Get your manager out here! If I don’t have you thrown out, I’m not a Ye!” Ye Wuhua shouted.

The bartender ignored him, instead greeting someone coming down the stairs, “Brother Li, what can I get for you?”

Ye Wuhua, still scowling, turned to look. He saw a tall man, nearly six-foot-three, playing with a metal lighter as he walked over. The man’s hair was long, tied into a ponytail at the back of his head.

“Is there trouble here?” Brother Li asked lazily, settling onto a barstool and lighting a cigarette.

“This guest smashed a glass,” replied the bartender.

“Yeah, I smashed it. So what?” Ye Wuhua barked.

Brother Li took a drag, then blew a smoke ring right into Ye Wuhua’s face.

Infuriated, Ye Wuhua waved the smoke away and cursed, “You—!”

“Aren’t you that spoiled brat who paid for a hit and ended up beaten instead?” Brother Li flicked his ash, his tone mocking.

The barb struck a nerve. Ye Wuhua, enraged, raised his fist to strike.

Brother Li caught Ye Wuhua’s fist with ease, as if holding a chicken.

The bartender chuckled, “Next time you want to vent, pick your place carefully. This is Haizhu District, not Baiyun where money lets you throw your weight around. On Xindong Society’s turf, your Kanglong Pharmaceuticals young master title doesn’t mean much.”

Haizhu was one of Huadu’s top districts, every inch of land worth a fortune. Any gang that could claim territory there was a major player—Xindong Society was one of those. No longer just knife-wielding street thugs, they ran legitimate businesses in Haizhu, with financial clout rivaling Kanglong Pharmaceuticals, and the weight of their underworld connections meant Ye Wuhua was nothing to them.

Ye Wuhua had dealt with Lianhong Society before, so he knew something about these matters. Hearing this was Xindong Society’s turf, he immediately backed down.

What was Xindong Society? Rulers of Haizhu, doing what no other organization dared. Crossing them was suicide.

Ye Wuhua retreated, pulling his hand back sullenly. He didn’t have the nerve to beg for mercy, but he glared at his drink, downed it in one go, and choked on the burn.

Brother Li had no interest in bickering with a spoiled rich boy. He smoked lazily, ordered a brandy, snapping his lighter open and shut.

“You seem pretty bitter, Young Master Ye,” Brother Li said, cigarette in hand, taking a sip.

Ye Wuhua shot him a glare. “Of course I am.”

“If you’re angry, fight back. In this world, if you get beaten, beat them back,” Brother Li advised.

“I’ll pay—your Xindong Society help me deal with that punk,” Ye Wuhua suddenly proposed.

Brother Li smiled and shook his head. “Xindong Society doesn’t do petty jobs like that. Too much trouble, not enough money.”

“Name your price, I’ll pay whatever it takes!” Ye Wuhua said, desperate. Lianhong Society couldn’t handle Lu Feng, but Xindong was far stronger—surely they could.

Brother Li still shook his head.

“One million!” Ye Wuhua declared, offering a million on the spot.

Brother Li only laughed. “That wouldn’t even cover a night with a woman for my boss.”

“I bet your Xindong Society can’t handle Lu Feng either. Otherwise, why refuse such a small job?” Ye Wuhua sneered.

Brother Li’s lazy demeanor vanished; his eyes turned wolfish, fierce enough to make Ye Wuhua shrink back in fear.

A moment later, Brother Li relaxed again, drained his glass, and said, “Want revenge? I have an idea.”

“What idea?” Ye Wuhua asked eagerly.

“Hire a hitman,” Brother Li replied.

Ye Wuhua’s expression stilled. There was a difference between hiring someone to rough someone up and hiring a killer, but thinking of how Lu Feng had pinned him down and beaten him, his anger flared. “How do I find a hitman?” he asked.

Brother Li tapped the bar and told the bartender, “Give him the card.” Then he got up and left.

Ye Wuhua turned to the bartender, “What card?”

The bartender smiled mysteriously. “Our bar may not look big, but the million you mentioned earlier could be earned here easily.”

Ye Wuhua frowned at him.

The bartender took a paper coaster, scribbled two sets of numbers on it, and pushed it over. “Transfer the money to this bank account, and call this number with your target’s details.”

“What’s this? You want the money upfront? What if I pay and nothing happens?” Ye Wuhua asked suspiciously.

The bartender smirked. “You can choose to trust, or not.”

“Can’t I just pay a deposit first?” Ye Wuhua pressed—he was just the young master, not the owner, and didn’t have free rein with the money.

The bartender shook his head. “Full amount.”

“How much should I send?”

“As much as you think the target is worth. The more you pay, the better the killer you’ll get.”

“And if they fail?”

“They won’t fail,” the bartender replied.

“But if they do?”

“There is no ‘if,’” the bartender said flatly.

Ye Wuhua, dissatisfied with the answer, wanted to press further, but the bartender cut him off. “I’ve answered all your questions. Please leave.”