Chapter 28: Recruiting a Follower

In an instant, Wang Xing's entire demeanor shifted. If he had seemed a meek lamb just moments ago, he was now a fierce and wild wolf, letting out a thunderous roar as he charged at Huang Mao and his gang. His long legs kicked with deadly precision, slicing through the air with gusts of wind, while his fists struck like lightning. He showed no fear as steel pipes rained down on him; a single punch from him sent an opponent crashing painfully to the ground, swift and efficient.

Huang Mao was startled, clearly unprepared for such resistance. He raised his machete and hacked wildly, but his moves were uncoordinated and easily dodged by Wang Xing. Wang’s hands shifted between claws and fists, unpredictable and versatile. With a sudden joint lock, he seized a thug’s wrist and twisted—there was a sickening crack as bones snapped.

At that moment, Huang Mao let out a desperate yell, seizing the brief opening to swing his blade fiercely at Wang Xing’s back. Yet Wang Xing acted as if he hadn’t noticed, bellowing again as his muscles swelled and hardened.

A loud clang echoed—an astonishing sight unfolded. The machete, rather than biting deeply into flesh as expected, bounced off Wang Xing’s back as if striking steel. The violent recoil left Huang Mao’s grip red and swollen.

“Iron Shirt Technique,” Chen Erpao murmured in awe, his eyes filled with surprise. He had never imagined Wang Xing was hiding such formidable skill, working as a mere security guard in Lingnan. Clearly, Wang Xing had other reasons for being here. Perhaps this seemingly ordinary university concealed secrets of its own.

Chen Erpao could see that Wang Xing’s Iron Shirt had reached a significant level; steel pipes and blades were nothing to him, his body as unyielding as a fortress. He rampaged through his enemies, leaving pain and devastation in his wake.

In no time, Huang Mao and his cohorts were sprawled across the floor, battered and broken, their eyes fixed on Wang Xing with a terror usually reserved for devils.

Chen Erpao smiled faintly, walking over to Wang Xing. “So you actually know the Iron Shirt? That’s no easy feat! Not just anyone can master such a skill.”

“It’s a family technique,” Wang Xing replied with a sheepish grin. “Our ancestors once ran a martial arts school, so it’s been passed down. But compared to your abilities, I’m way behind. Even if I used my full strength, I doubt I could withstand a few of your punches.”

“Don’t flatter me! Who knows what else you’re keeping from me? Just don’t compete with me for women, and I won’t ask about the rest.” Chen Erpao chuckled lightly, turning his gaze to the still-wailing Huang Mao.

Huang Mao was in a truly sorry state, his mouth bloody and several of his front teeth knocked out. Both eyes were swollen to the size of plums, making him look like a panda.

“Please, brothers, have mercy! I’m just doing a job for someone who paid me. I have no personal grudge against you.” Huang Mao pleaded fearfully, his body trembling. Wang Xing’s display of invulnerability had clearly shattered his resolve.

“So you know you have no grudge with us, yet you still came to hurt us? Tell me—who sent you?” Chen Erpao’s tone was commanding, brooking no resistance as he gazed down at Huang Mao.

Huang Mao’s expression shifted through a range of emotions. Facing Chen Erpao’s overwhelming presence, he finally spoke with resignation, “It was Li Ziyang who sent us. He paid us several tens of thousands, promised us more if we succeeded, and told us not to hold back.”

“I suspected as much,” Chen Erpao said with a sardonic chuckle, glancing at Wang Xing. “Didn’t think he’d be so ruthless, trying to cripple me. Good thing I brought some backup tonight, or I’d have fallen into your trap.”

Wang Xing protested immediately, “Hey, when did I become your muscle? It’s their own fault their brains are so muddled. They take money and do jobs, but can’t even figure out who their real target is.”

“I need you to do something for me,” Chen Erpao said, his voice cold and deadly. “If you mess it up, you’ll regret ever being born.” Coming from a man who had survived a world of blood and violence, his very presence was enough to terrify Huang Mao into submission.

“Whatever you say, boss! If it’s within my power, I’ll do it,” Huang Mao promised hastily.

“Go give Li Ziyang’s Q7 a free makeover. Make it good—let the world see that our people are just as skilled at ‘cosmetic surgery’ as anyone in Korea, and when it comes to cars, we do it even better.” Chen Erpao’s smile was icy. Though he no longer wished to stain his hands with blood, he wouldn’t let someone who had tried to harm him go unpunished.

Huang Mao hesitated, surprised that Chen Erpao wanted him to retaliate against Li Ziyang—even if it was only against his car. But the thought of Li Ziyang’s father, a high-ranking government official in Tuen Mun and a well-known figure in Hong Kong, made him apprehensive.

“Boss, Li Ziyang’s father is a government leader in Tuen Mun—he’s got pull in Hong Kong. If small fries like us go up against him, the consequences could be dire.”

“Dire, huh? You think you’ll fare better if you cross me? I’m not asking you to do it openly. Work in the shadows—he’ll never trace it back to you. Even if he suspects, he’ll only suspect me, and I’ll take whatever comes. Besides, don’t you want to climb up in the world? With my friend here, who’s trained in the mountains for ten years, you’ll have a real shot at making a name for yourselves in Hong Kong.”

“Really? Then what are we waiting for, boss? With a leader like him, what’s there to be afraid of?” The thought of Wang Xing’s earlier display of superhuman strength filled Huang Mao with visions of ruling Tuen Mun, displacing Hong Xing and becoming a true underworld figure. He quickly called to his battered companions, urging them to salute Wang Xing respectfully.

Wang Xing looked helplessly at Chen Erpao, exclaiming, “I’ve never recruited lackeys before! And with heads and skills like theirs, what use are they to me?”

“Come on, Xing! Having a few followers makes you look cool when you’re picking up girls, boosts your success rate! And look at Huang Mao—he’s got potential. That bright yellow hair is unique—a real character!”

Wang Xing grumbled, “When have I ever failed with women? Besides, if I bring this lot along, the only girls I’d attract are the kind you’d pay for! Still, having a few lackeys could be fun to try.”

Just like that, the two turned their former enemies into their own men, sending them off to the hospital before it was too late. After all, trailing behind a gang of limping, battered followers would certainly be a sight to behold.

Due to the delay, by the time the two arrived at the underground fight club, the matches were already underway.

The venue was well-hidden, located in the basement of a large nightclub. It was spacious, packed with over a hundred people—mostly shirtless, tattooed gangsters. Among them were many scantily clad, provocatively dressed young women, faces still marked by youthful innocence but exuding wildness and the unmistakable air of the street.