At the next intersection, Jiang Chen squinted at the gathering crowd ahead.
A middle-aged man with shifty eyes stood at the roadside, sizing up passing cars like a predator watching prey. The moment he saw the sleek pearl-gray coupe approaching, his eyes lit up like a jackpot.
"Lynk & Co—must be worth at least a few million," he muttered. "Today's my lucky day!"
Before the car even reached him, he suddenly flung himself onto the street, sprawling across the pavement with a loud wail.
"Ow—my legs! I've been hit! Someone help!"
Qin Yanyan, behind the wheel, screamed and instinctively let go of the steering wheel. The coupe lurched forward out of control, barely slowing as it rolled straight toward the man.
Seeing that the car wasn't stopping, the scammer's expression twisted in panic. With a scramble of limbs, he rolled aside just in time.
Yanyan clutched her chest, pale-faced. "Oh my god—I thought I killed him!"
"Granny, you're the one who nearly killed me!" the man groaned dramatically, now lying back on the pavement like he'd been struck by lightning.
Before any of them could react, people began emerging from alleys and side streets—an old woman, a toddler, even a bare-chested man with a dragon tattoo snaking down his arm. It was a scene straight out of a low-budget soap opera.
Lin Yuechan's eyes narrowed. "It's a setup."
"Look at this mess," Jiang Chen said with a sneer. "Theatrics on the streets now?"
The tattooed man stomped toward them and pounded the hood of the car. "You hit my uncle! He's half-dead! Twenty thousand, or none of you leave!"
Yuechan pointed at the "victim," who was already standing up and dusting himself off.
"Really? That's what a 'half-dead' man looks like?"
The burly man glared at his supposed uncle. "What are you doing?! Lie down! We talked about this!"
"But the pavement is so hot—" the man whined.
"Professionalism!" the thug barked. "You think we scam people from the comfort of luxury? Get back down!"
Sighing dramatically, the uncle flopped onto a shady patch of concrete.
A chorus of cries followed:
"Uncle, you owe me rent! Don't die now!"
"Daddy, what about my school fees?"
"Honey, please hang in there—you're the rock of our family!"
It was like watching a street play—an entire cast performing live, tears and all.
Jiang Chen rolled down the window, clearly unimpressed. "All this effort for twenty thousand yuan?"
"We've got mouths to feed," the thug said. "You rich folk won't even feel it."
Qin Yanyan blinked. "So… you just want money?"
The tattooed man licked his lips. "Hospital bills, trauma, pain and suffering… twenty thousand sounds fair, yeah?"
Before she could even reach for her card, Jiang Chen plucked it from her hand.
"Seriously?" he said. "You're just gonna hand it over? Yuechan, what do you think—should I offer them an acting deal instead?"
"Li Chen!" Yuechan snapped. "This is not the time to joke!"
"Then let me handle it. Just pay me five thousand. I'll call it a problem-solving fee."
Yanyan blinked. "Are you crazy? Those guys look like real gangsters!"
Jiang Chen stepped out of the car and walked calmly up to the circle of thugs.
"Look," he said, "I don't have twenty thousand. But I can give you twenty."
The thug's smile twisted into a snarl. "You're asking for it."
He pulled out a shiny fruit knife, spinning it between his fingers.
From the car, Yuechan and Yanyan gasped.
"Li Chen! Get back in the car!"
But Jiang Chen didn't flinch.
With a sigh, he dodged the first punch, stepped in, and drove his elbow into the thug's ribs. A thud. The man collapsed, howling in pain.
The others rushed in.
A kick spun through the air—another thug dropped, teeth flying.
A twist of his body, a palm strike, and three more collapsed like bowling pins.
In seconds, the street was quiet. The scammers lay scattered, groaning.
Jiang Chen stood tall, cracking his neck, dusting his sleeves.
"If I, Jiang Chen, once fought nine Celestial Kings alone in the Burning Sky Realm… what makes you think you trash are even worth my time?"
Yuechan and Yanyan stared in disbelief. The boy they knew—timid, quiet, bullied—was gone.
In his place stood someone… else.
Someone dangerous.
Someone powerful.
As the thugs scrambled away, dragging their "uncle" with them, Yanyan turned to Yuechan, still stunned.
"Yuechan… was that… kung fu?"
Yuechan swallowed. "No. That wasn't kung fu."
That was something far scarier.
Jiang Chen returned to the driver's seat and flashed a grin. "Need a ride?"
"Do you even have a license?!" Yuechan exclaimed.
"Nope."
But no one dared argue.
He started the engine and drove them smoothly toward the Qinglan River Residences—like he'd lived that life before.
And in truth… he had.