Chapter 5048 — All or Nothing

Before he could finish the sentence, Wei Zhao suddenly pressed a hand down on the man's head at a slant, without the slightest warning. A thud followed, and Boss Huang's fat bulk went down flat and stiff, howling in pain and unable to get up for a long while.

It happened so suddenly that the whole gang of thugs was badly startled. The way they looked at Wei Zhao now carried a good measure of wariness; Boss Huang weighed a solid two hundred catties if an ounce, and this fellow had pressed him flat as easy as anything—how strong did a hand have to be for that?

"What's there to be afraid of? There's only one of him, and six of us brothers left. Even if we slap him one at a time, we'll slap him to death!" shouted one of the thugs, who seemed to be the leader, and with that he lashed a kick at Wei Zhao.

But Wei Zhao's kick came faster. Before the man's foot had even reached its arc, Wei Zhao had snapped it apart with a hard kick of his own; the whole leg bent at a horrifying angle as the man flew backward, slammed hard into the fire cabinet behind him, and dropped on the spot.

The thugs were startled all over again. The fight had barely begun, and already two of their own were down. This was a tough nut to crack.

"All together now! No holding back, brothers. If the lot of us can't take down this one man, how are we supposed to show our faces out there again?" The remaining five thugs all turned vicious. Men in their line of work prized face above all; though their hearts quailed a little, they gritted their teeth and went at it. They absolutely could not lose this fight—losing would be a humiliation beyond bearing.

As a rule, a skilled fighter seldom kills when he strikes, whereas brawls among ignorant little thugs are the likeliest to end in death, because they have no sense of measure in their blows—and more often than not they fight with weapons in hand. Just so with these five: they all whipped out steel pipes in unison and swung them without hesitation straight at Wei Zhao's head.

Watching the show from inside her room, Leng Leng was alarmed. A beating like that really could kill a man. She was about to step in without a second thought, but Wei Zhao was quicker than she was. Before the five thugs' pipes could come down, he got in first and stamped each of them hard—so hard their feet were crushed out of shape.

A chorus of pig-slaughtering shrieks went up. The five thugs dropped their pipes at once and clutched their feet, wailing for their mothers, tears and snot streaming; the scene was enough to break the heart of anyone who heard it and draw tears from anyone who saw.

"Still not running? You want me to give each of you another one?" Wei Zhao looked down at them from above.

Boss Huang and his men did not dare so much as squeak. They clapped their hands over their heads and scattered like rats, tumbling and scrambling down the stairs. If they still could not work out that they had run into a dangerous man after all this, they did not deserve to live.

The whole pack fled screaming out the gate of the residential compound. Only when they saw that Wei Zhao had not come after them did they finally breathe easy. Then, one and all, they turned bitter faces on Boss Huang. Was this the soft persimmon he had promised would flatten at a pinch?

"Don't look at me. How was I supposed to know the kid was this vicious? If I'd meant to cheat you, would I have come along in person today to get beaten up?" Boss Huang said sourly.

He had it figured out now. No wonder the two earlier attempts to scare the kid off by dressing up as ghosts had failed. Quick and ruthless with his hands—the fellow was plainly no ordinary man.

It seemed it would not be easy to find anyone else to deal with the kid. Not unless he was willing to pay a steep price—and Boss Huang was no single-minded little thug, he was a businessman. He would not touch a deal that was so plainly a loss. Better to simply wait until the tenant's lease ran out, dangerous man or not. When the time came, he could just refuse to rent the place, couldn't he?

Meanwhile, Leng Leng came out of the room and looked Wei Zhao up and down afresh. Somewhat surprised, she clicked her tongue in admiration. "Looks like you weren't lying to me. You really are good at a fight."

"Naturally. I told you long ago I'm an expert in the martial arts. These little thugs don't even register with me." Wei Zhao laughed heartily.

"Braggart." Leng Leng could not help but laugh. Wei Zhao's moves just now had been clean and neat enough, but to her eye they were still within the range of an ordinary man; at most his reflexes and strength were above the common run. This "martial arts expert" business was pure talk.

Wei Zhao did not bother to explain. He handed her the breakfast he had bought earlier. "Here. Eat it while it's hot."

"All right." Leng Leng took the breakfast naturally. A moment later it suddenly struck her: Wei Zhao had been holding the breakfast the whole time, and in the blink of an eye he had dealt with seven men without spilling so much as a drop of the soy milk. That did not seem like something an ordinary person could do, did it?

"What is it?" Wei Zhao glanced at her, a little puzzled.

"Oh, nothing." Leng Leng smiled. The thought had only flickered through her mind. They had known each other so long by now that she simply did not believe Wei Zhao could be a cultivator. She must be imagining things.

"All right, then I'll head back first. Shall we still go out to eat together at noon? I'll come and get you," Wei Zhao suggested.

Leng Leng nodded. Before she shut the door she made a point of adding, "Don't knock on the door—call me."

"All right..." Wei Zhao was caught between laughter and tears. Ever since she had bought a phone, this little Cold Girl had become addicted to it. They lived right next door to each other, yet she insisted on phone calls. Still, it was not so bad—when she was in a good mood he could while away an hour on the phone with her, and their relationship had been racing along by leaps and bounds.

Wei Zhao could not have asked for more. But on the other side, Leng Leng was rather troubled. On the one hand she could not help herself, drifting in this direction without meaning to; on the other she feared sinking deeper and deeper until she could not pull herself out.

Reason told her she could not go on like this. Between her and Wei Zhao there could be no happy ending; the deeper she sank now, the deeper she would be hurt later, and that would be good for neither of them.

Several times she had wanted to have it out with Wei Zhao face to face, but every time she saw him, all the words she had prepared went straight to the back of beyond. Being with Wei Zhao always made her feel relaxed and happy, and she simply could not bear to tear it all apart with her own hands.

And yet this could not go on forever. Late that night, when all was quiet, Leng Leng finally made up her mind. The reason she had kept putting it off so long was not only that she could not bear to say it to his face—more importantly, the real cause lay with herself.

It was precisely because her injury had never healed that she had found herself an excuse to keep postponing. She kept telling herself that when the day came that her injury was cured, it would not be too late to have it out with Wei Zhao then. But that was only fooling herself. At this rate, even if her injury did heal one day, by then the roots of love would have grown deep, and how could she be sure she would still be able to say the words?

After turning it over and over in her mind, Leng Leng concluded that the only way now was to stake everything on a single throw. (To be continued.)

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