YMI Chapter 10

Qin Lang didn’t really need to run, but he wasn’t going to pass up such a perfect chance to hold Tao Ruoxiang’s hand.

Just as they reached the corner of a street outside the school, Qin Lang and Tao Ruoxiang were blocked by a dozen roaring motorcycles. At the head of the motorcade, a black sedan stopped right in front of them.

At that moment, Ponytail had somehow gotten hold of an electric scooter and rushed over. After arriving, Ponytail tossed the scooter aside at the roadside, hurried to the black sedan, and respectfully pulled open the door. A crew-cut man stepped out, pinched his nose, and said impatiently, “Ponytail, did you just fall into a pile of shit or something? Get away from me—don’t stink me up! Just one little punk who hasn’t even grown all his hair, and you can’t handle him? Made me not even enjoy my meal—what a damn disgrace!”

Ponytail was clearly terrified of this crew-cut man and quickly stepped aside.

“Brother Qiang?” Qin Lang seemed to recall Zhao Kan mentioning that name once, though he had been half-asleep at the time. But if it was someone even Zhao Kan had heard of, he definitely wasn’t an ordinary figure.

This crew-cut man was Han Sanqiang, the underground boss of the area around Seventh High. He had done time in prison and trained in martial arts. Ponytail might be the local boss of the street just outside the school, but he was nothing more than a small underling under Han Sanqiang.

Still, the street outside the school was a lucrative spot, and Ponytail was obedient enough. So, when Han Sanqiang heard someone was making trouble there, he immediately brought a bunch of his men to back him up.

Han Sanqiang hadn’t expected that the one who had messed Ponytail up so badly was just a high schooler. For a moment, he regretted coming in person.

But since he was here, he naturally had to assert his authority in front of his men. He said to Qin Lang and Tao Ruoxiang, “You don’t need me to tell you who I am. You hit my brother, that’s the same as slapping me in the face. Either you pay my brother ten thousand for medical bills, or you pay ten thousand yourself—to the hospital!”

Qin Lang wanted nothing more than to beat Han Sanqiang and his men senseless, to feel what it was like to be a chivalrous hero. But he knew very well this was a law-abiding society—it wasn’t an age where you could simply swing fists and swords to rid the world of evil. If you crippled or killed someone, even if they were a bad guy, you’d still go to prison.

And besides, with Tao Ruoxiang beside him, he didn’t want to leave the impression of being a violent thug.

After a quick calculation, Qin Lang spoke: “That’s right, I hit your brother. But I’m not paying medical bills. If you’ve got the guts, let’s go into the alley and fight one-on-one!”

Han Sanqiang’s men all burst out laughing, Ponytail laughing the loudest. Of course, they were laughing at Qin Lang for overestimating himself—everyone knew Han Sanqiang’s status and territory had been won with his fists.

“One-on-one? You? With me?”

Han Sanqiang laughed mockingly. “What kind of world is this, when even schoolkids dare challenge me? Kid, I know you just want to show off in front of a woman, playing the hero saving the beauty. But I’ll make sure you understand—you’re no hero, you’re a coward! You want a duel? Fine, I’ll give you that chance! I haven’t stretched my muscles in a while anyway!”

He didn’t want to make too big a scene and attract the police. Since the kid wanted a one-on-one, he’d oblige. Han Sanqiang’s reputation as the southern district’s top dog wasn’t for nothing—back in prison, he had befriended an inmate skilled in Sanda, and after much flattery had learned the art for several years. It had been a long time since he’d “performed” in front of his men, so he was happy to oblige this boy, and make sure no one thought he couldn’t handle a mere student.

“Teacher Tao, please hold on to the flowers. This won’t take more than a few minutes,” Qin Lang said to Tao Ruoxiang with a relaxed smile.

Tao Ruoxiang had intended to stop him, but seeing him so calm, she unexpectedly didn’t try to intervene. She only said, “Be careful! Ten minutes—if you don’t come out, I’m calling the police!”

The street outside the school was lined with residential houses, each row backed by a narrow alley.

It was already getting dark. A single streetlamp at the alley mouth cast a dim yellow glow.

Qin Lang and Han Sanqiang walked into the alley, one ahead, one behind.

In the middle of the alley, Qin Lang stopped, turned around, and said to Han Sanqiang: “You’re at death’s door, and you don’t even know it!”

Han Sanqiang was startled, then gave a cold laugh. “Trying to scare me? You think you can kill me? Go ahead!”

“Idiot!” Qin Lang snorted. Suddenly, he swung a fist sideways—not at Han Sanqiang, but at the concrete wall beside him.

Bang!

The sound wasn’t loud, but the reinforced concrete wall now bore a dent nearly an inch deep, spiderweb cracks radiating out from it.

Han Sanqiang’s heart skipped a beat. “How the hell is this kid’s fist so hard?”

For a moment, he didn’t dare make a move.

After this little demonstration, Qin Lang looked at him with pity. “Han Sanqiang, when I said you’re at death’s door, it’s because you’ve been poisoned—with arsenic. Soon it’ll flare up. I won’t take advantage of someone in such a state—otherwise, that punch wouldn’t have landed on the wall.”

In truth, Qin Lang just didn’t want Tao Ruoxiang to think he was too violent and be frightened of him.

“Hmph! You’ve got a real sense of humor! I’m not someone who scares easy!” If it hadn’t been for that punch earlier, Han Sanqiang would’ve already swung at him and wouldn’t be listening to any of this.

“Joking? What’s the point?” Qin Lang sneered. “These past few days, you’ve often felt dizzy, had headaches, chest tightness, dryness in your mouth and throat, right?”

Han Sanqiang said nothing—tantamount to admitting it.

“And in the last couple of days, your urine’s been an odd color, your stools have had blood in them… and most importantly—”

Here, Qin Lang paused deliberately, to make himself seem unfathomable.

“What’s most important?” Han Sanqiang couldn’t help but ask.

“Forget it. Since you don’t believe me, why should I be the ‘Lü Dongbin’ here? Keep eating your seafood, Han Sanqiang. Two more meals and you can have someone collect your body!” Qin Lang snorted, turning to leave.

Han Sanqiang hadn’t believed him—but when Qin Lang mentioned “seafood,” his heart lurched. He quickly called after him, “Little… brother, how do you know I’ve been eating seafood? And how do you know I’ve been poisoned?”

Of course, Qin Lang knew. As the disciple of an old poison master, and with his own unique constitution, he was extremely sensitive to toxins. One look had told him Han Sanqiang was showing symptoms of arsenic poisoning. As for the seafood, Qin Lang had simply smelled the “ocean scent” on him, and guessed it was the source of the poisoning.

But Qin Lang had no intention of explaining—mystery was far more effective for intimidation.

“You’ve got chronic arsenic poisoning,” Qin Lang said coolly. “But the toxins won’t fully hit until tomorrow night. Take care of yourself.”

With that, he really did walk toward the alley’s exit.

Ponytail and the others saw Qin Lang coming out without Han Sanqiang stopping him, and were puzzled.

But then Han Sanqiang strode quickly after him, blocking his path. Ponytail and the others thought the boss was finally going to get serious—blood, brutality, violence—they were ready for the show.

Instead, to their utter shock, Han Sanqiang stood before Qin Lang, bent at the waist, lowered his head, and said respectfully:

“Brother… save me—”