Chapter 72: Tenfold Retribution (Part 1)

  At Qianshui Street, in a quiet private room on the third floor of the Lufa Teahouse, under the dim light, Chen Tianxiong lowered his head, swirling the cup of freshly brewed Tieguanyin tea in his hand, the rich aroma curling into the air.

  All these years, it was his first time meeting someone in such a refined teahouse, like a secret agent rendezvous—but with a young man.

  If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have bothered showing up. But this person was different—his name was Zhang Yang. Not only was he skilled in combat, but he also had close ties with the powerful Qiao family. More precisely, he seemed very close to one of the Qiao family’s direct descendants—a young lady of high status.

  At first, he thought Zhang Yang was merely that rich miss’s bodyguard. But now he knew he was wrong. The two looked more like something between friends and lovers.

  Someone who could get that close to the Qiao family’s heiress wasn’t someone Chen Tianxiong could afford to provoke—but also not someone he needed to fear.

  Chen Tianxiong lifted the cup to his nose. The rich fragrance filled his senses, instantly refreshing his mind. He took a light sip, set the cup on the table, looked at Zhang Yang, and said softly, “You wouldn’t have asked me out this late just for tea, right?”

  The words “for tea” made him uncomfortable—it felt like being summoned to the police station.

  “I want to ask you for a favor.” Zhang Yang looked at him. The square-faced man before him had eyes that seemed hollow at first glance, but within that emptiness flashed sharpness from time to time. And behind that, an ever-present vigilance—clearly, this man carried a long story.

  “A favor?” Chen Tianxiong frowned. For someone like Zhang Yang to ask him for help, it definitely wasn’t a small matter. He hesitated, took a deep breath, finished his tea, and asked, “What kind of favor?”

  Zhang Yang took out a bank card from his pocket and placed it on the table. “There’s one million here.”

  “One million?” Chen Tianxiong glanced at the card, raising an eyebrow. It was an enticing number—enough to tempt someone like him. The young man clearly understood how to work people’s psychology.

  He chuckled, looked at Zhang Yang, and said, “Seems like a big deal.”

  “This afternoon, near Qianshui Street’s Hengkou Market, an elderly man—around sixty—was beaten by seven or eight thugs. He’s still in the ICU. I want you to find those men.”

  “Hengkou Market?” Chen Tianxiong frowned and pushed the card back. “Sorry, I can’t help you with that.”

  Zhang Yang looked at him calmly and said, “If it’s because of the Bai family, don’t worry—they won’t last till the end of the year.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Chen Tianxiong’s body stiffened slightly. He knew that if the Qiao family made a move, not even ten Bai Groups could survive it. But could this young man really wield that kind of influence?

  Even if he was close to the Qiao family’s heiress, that didn’t mean he could affect the Qiao family’s decisions. He also knew that recently, the Bai family had been getting quite close to them.

  But this young man had just declared, calmly, that the Bai Group wouldn’t survive till year’s end.

  Come on—even childbirth takes ten months. It was already almost November—barely a month left in the year. Even by the lunar calendar, that’s only three months.

  Three months to topple a listed company?

  That was absurd. And yet… somehow, he almost believed the kid could do it.

  Chen Tianxiong rubbed his temples, forcing himself to think logically, then looked up at Zhang Yang. “Give me a reason to believe you.”

  “Do you follow the stock market?”

  “The stock market?” Chen Tianxiong released his hands. “Guys like me earn hard money. We don’t throw it into that black hole. Still… fine. I’ve got 500,000 shares of Bai Pharmaceuticals. A week ago, they were worth over two million. Now? Barely eight hundred thousand.”

  “You dabble in stocks?” Zhang Yang asked curiously. It wasn’t unusual for wealthy heirs to hold stocks, but it was rare for someone this young to play the markets.

  Chen Tianxiong shook his head. “I don’t know a thing about stocks. But I can make Bai’s stock crash to the bottom—and even buy it out.”

  “Buy out Bai Group?” Chen Tianxiong laughed in disbelief. “Sure, Bai Pharmaceuticals took a hit lately, its stock’s been plunging. But it’s already bottomed out—rebound’s coming any day now. Even if it doesn’t hit its peak again, it’ll easily bounce back above one yuan.”

  “You’re right—it’ll rebound.” Zhang Yang nodded and poured him another cup of tea. “But, Brother Xiong, you’d better sell the moment it rebounds. Maybe you’ll break even.”

  “You sound confident.” Chen Tianxiong thanked him for the refill, frowning in thought. Zhang Yang didn’t look like he was lying.

  Zhang Yang paused, then said slowly, “You know why Bai’s stock fell, right?”

  “Of course. Bai Group spent a fortune publicizing that it had signed with Meining University’s ‘Dragonborn’ Project to co-develop a world-class anti-cancer drug. But then Xingyun Pharmaceuticals swooped in and snatched the deal. Bai’s initial investment was lost, their dream of producing a super anti-cancer drug shattered—and with all the media coverage that day, their stock was doomed to crash.”

  “But!” Chen Tianxiong looked at Zhang Yang and continued, “That drop was just shockwaves from the sudden hit. Once things settle, with Bai’s foundation, it’ll recover. Remember, Bai’s biggest money-maker is its joint venture with the Chrysanthemum Kingdom’s Shiteng Pharmaceutical—they co-produce imported meds for a massive market. Their base is still strong.”

  “Shiteng?” Zhang Yang nodded. “Right. Bai’s anti-cancer branch collapsed, but Shiteng still props them up. But what if even Shiteng’s products get completely replaced?”

  “Impossible!” Chen Tianxiong shook his head. “I don’t know much about medicine, but those Japanese bastards make good stuff—especially in biopharma. They’re decades ahead of us…”

  “Nanxing One is already out. What’s Shiteng’s stuff compared to that?” Zhang Yang’s face carried quiet confidence. In the genetic era, once you cracked the gene codes behind diseases, foreign meds were obsolete—the only challenge left was mass production.

  And targeting Shiteng alone? That was nothing. The Nuwa System could handle it easily.

  “Sure, Nanxing One’s impressive. But that’s probably a one-time fluke.”

  “What if I told you it’s not?”

  Chen Tianxiong’s head was starting to ache from all the shaking, but Zhang Yang’s words made him shake it again. “If you said ten or twenty years from now, I’d believe you. But now? Impossible.”

  “Unless you give me solid proof.”

  “I don’t have proof,” Zhang Yang said. “But I’m part of the ‘Dragonborn’ Project. And to be honest, the reason Bai Group lost the deal—it was because of me.” Zhang Yang gave a faint smile. Talking biotech with a street boss felt almost absurd. “Nanxing One is just the start. Next might be a cancer vaccine. After that—drugs for cardiovascular disease, respiratory illness… But of course, that’s only if you believe me.”

  “You’re serious?” Chen Tianxiong’s hands trembled around the teacup, then he shook his head. “No. I can’t believe that.”

  The three deadliest diseases in Huaxia—dismissed by Zhang Yang as if they were nothing. This was science fiction.

  “If the fact that Bai got kicked from the deal isn’t proof enough, then I can’t help you.” Zhang Yang stood, pocketed the card, and turned to leave.

  “Wait.” Chen Tianxiong gritted his teeth, hesitated, then stood up. “I’ll believe you—just this once.”

  Zhang Yang, halfway to the door, let out a quiet breath, placed the card back on the table, and asked, “When can I see them?”

  “Night Dance Pool Hall. Two hours.” Chen Tianxiong pushed the card back again. “Keep your money. I just want your word.”

  He wasn’t ambitious, but he was tired of living in the dark. If Zhang Yang really could take down Bai Group, he’d need capable men—and someone like him could finally step out of the shadows. Nearly forty years old, Chen Tianxiong wanted one last chance, no matter how absurd it seemed.

  But fuck it—worth the gamble.

  Zhang Yang looked at him, pressed the card into his hand, and said, “Brother Xiong, I’ll never forget what you did for me tonight.”