Chapter 18: The Bloody Battle in the Marketplace

Wang Xuemei gazed for a long while before her eyes finally settled on a set of pink lace lingerie. The patterns on this set were exquisitely unique, beautiful in their own right, and what was most endearing was a blossom, poised as if just about to bloom, embroidered right at the center of the panties, stirring the imagination.

“Pink is quite nice, and the design is lovely. That semi-transparent pink set over there isn’t bad either,” Chen Erpao chuckled quietly by her side, trying to keep his voice low.

Wang Xuemei’s charming face flushed crimson. She glanced nervously around, looking like a child caught in mischief. When she was certain no one had overheard, she turned and shot Chen Erpao a fierce glare.

“Let’s just buy them both, but you’re paying,” Wang Xuemei said, her cheeks still rosy, making her even more enchanting.

Chen Erpao thought to himself that he didn’t mind paying at all—who knew, maybe someday he’d have the chance to witness their effect in person.

After they left the lingerie shop, the two continued strolling through the mall for a while longer. During this time, Wang Xuemei insisted on buying Chen Erpao a rather decent razor with her own money. Chen Erpao accepted it cheerfully and found himself growing even fonder of Wang Xuemei. In today’s world, a woman as considerate as her was a rare find. She’d told him to watch his spending, but in truth, she was always thinking of him—aside from a meal and two sets of inexpensive, ordinary lingerie, she hadn’t indulged in anything extravagant.

“It’s getting late, we should head back,” Chen Erpao said after checking the time. It was nearly eleven o’clock.

Wang Xuemei nodded, her smile bright. “Mm, tonight was quite enjoyable. Even though my wounds haven’t healed yet, I don’t feel any pain or exhaustion at all.”

“So much energy—are there female versions of Viagra out there now?” Chen Erpao wondered, a series of question marks flashing through his mind.

At that moment, a group of uninvited guests arrived outside the mall. Several vans lined up, and dozens of fierce-looking men armed with machetes, iron rods, and other weapons burst out.

“Alan, take some men and block the back entrance, don’t let that mainlander slip away,” Curly Maos commanded arrogantly, exuding a wild air, a conspicuous short knife tucked at his waist.

Fortunately, it was late and the mall was about to close, so there weren’t many people around—otherwise, the consequences would have been dire.

As Chen Erpao walked on, his left eyelid began to twitch uncontrollably, a sense of unease creeping into his heart. Only when they stepped outside and he surveyed the scene did he understand why his eyelid had kept twitching—there were nearly forty gangsters, all armed.

No matter how self-assured Chen Erpao was—a top special forces soldier, a king among soldiers—at the end of the day, he was still flesh and blood. The other side was not just a crowd, but a small army. If he were alone, he wouldn’t worry; if he couldn’t win, he could at least escape. Breaking through wouldn’t be difficult. But he was not alone.

Wang Xuemei was a delicate woman. With her in tow, he would have to split his attention to protect her, let alone attempt an escape together. If he abandoned her and fled, he was confident he could make it out. But even if the enemy laid out a clear path for him, Chen Erpao would never take it. He was a soldier at heart, even without the uniform—he still thought of himself as a Chinese soldier.

“They’re after me. That night, when I was covered in blood, it was because I’d taught this bunch of thugs a lesson,” Chen Erpao thought, glancing at Wang Xuemei’s terrified face. A sudden resolve surged within him—no matter what, he would not let those around him suffer because of him. He would not let them be harmed again.

“It would be a lie to say I’m not afraid, but I trust you. I know you can get me home safely, can’t you?” Wang Xuemei’s eyes were wide as she stared at Chen Erpao. Gradually, the panic faded from her face, replaced by a quiet determination.

“Yes. If I could bring you out, I can bring you back. No one can harm those by my side—no one. Trust me,” Chen Erpao’s heart trembled, all because of this woman. When a man gives his word, he must keep it, even if it costs his life.

“Go back inside the mall. I’ll come for you when it’s safe,” Chen Erpao’s demeanor shifted in an instant. Ferocious as a wolf, a king of soldiers—still human, yet enough to inspire terror.

Wang Xuemei was both clever and reassuring; she didn’t say another word, only replied with resolve, “I’ll wait for you,” and quickly retreated into the mall.

“So you’re Chen Erpao. My name is Curly, one of Tuen Mun District’s top enforcers. In Tuen Mun, only the big boss outranks me. I hear you’re quite the fighter. I see potential in you. If you kneel, offer me tea, and apologize, I’ll let bygones be bygones. Maybe I’ll even let you join me—you’ll eat well and live large, ten times better than being a mere security guard. Well, what do you say?” Curly declared.

Abao looked at Curly in disbelief, his eyes brimming with resentment. “Boss, are you really going to let him off like that? What about my revenge—?”

Curly’s eyes turned cold, shooting him a vicious glare. “Do I need you to teach me how to run things? If he joins us, he’s a brother. Let the past stay in the past.”

Abao dared not speak again, but resentment seethed on his face as he glared at Chen Erpao.

“Are all street thugs as long-winded as you? If you want to fight, then fight. Enough with the nonsense,” Chen Erpao raised his head high, his fighting spirit reaching its peak in an instant.

“Damn, you’ve got guts. Let’s see if you can still talk like that in a bit!” Curly waved his hand and, with a sultry woman on his arm, strode toward the Highlander parked nearby. At once, dozens of his underlings roared, brandishing machetes and iron pipes as they charged at Chen Erpao.

With a swift movement, Chen Erpao kicked a nearby trash can with all his might. It shot up like a cannonball, knocking the two men at the front of the group to the ground.

In a flash, Chen Erpao dashed to their side, felling each with a heavy blow, then quickly seized a steel pipe from the ground, wielding it against the oncoming enemies.

The clash of steel pipe against machete rang out repeatedly, the metallic sound sharp and unyielding.

Surrounded by dozens, Chen Erpao found the steel pipe less handy than his old military dagger, but in this moment, it was his best ally. Each swing landed with crushing force on an opponent, and even when blade met pipe, his enemies’ wrists would go numb with pain.