Chapter 6: You Fool, Are You Courting Death?

The afternoon heat remained oppressive, and the entire city felt like a steaming cage. Su Daoan’s assistant drove a brown Highlander, taking Lu Feng to Tianhe Plaza to buy clothes.

Lu Feng was still wearing the same outfit from Yunshan; as Su Muqing put it, it was practically worn to death.

“Young Master Feng, please put on your seatbelt. I’ll feel much more comfortable driving,” Assistant Chen advised, glancing at Lu Feng through the rearview mirror.

“No need. If there’s a crash, having to fumble with the belt before jumping out the window is just too much trouble,” Lu Feng refused without hesitation.

Assistant Chen broke into a cold sweat, his cheeks twitching, at a complete loss for words.

“What business is Su Daoan in?” Lu Feng hadn’t had the chance to ask Su Daoan this yesterday.

“President Su is the chairman of Yun’an Group. Yun’an Group has opened chain dietary health centers in major cities across the country. It’s the leading enterprise for healthy cuisine and wellness in Yangcheng,” Chen replied.

“Wellness centers? So, restaurants?”

“They focus on therapeutic food and health, different from ordinary restaurants,” Chen explained.

“I thought he’d open a medical clinic. What a waste of those priceless prescriptions,” Lu Feng remarked.

“Our country regulates private clinics quite strictly—the procedures are complex and it’s hard to expand. Nowadays, people generally go to Western doctors for illnesses; only some elderly folks prefer traditional medicine, and even then, they’d go to a traditional medicine hospital, not a private clinic. It’s much easier to run a wellness center,” Chen said.

“So it’s all about money in the end. The medical ethics of Yunshan have all been lost,” Lu Feng’s impression of Su Daoan dropped sharply.

Su Daoan was actually a bit misunderstood. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to practice medicine—he simply hadn’t mastered the art and couldn’t get a medical license.

Though he failed as a doctor and wasn’t much of a martial artist, Su Daoan had a knack for business. Using the secret recipes from the Priceless Prescriptions, he opened Yun’an Dietary Wellness Centers, which became a huge success.

Therapeutic cuisine differed from medicine. With the right prescriptions and matching dishes, one could sell nourishing food without worrying about fatal mistakes.

Nowadays, the wealthy would go to big hospitals for serious illnesses and were passionate about traditional wellness. Over the years, Su Daoan had opened more than a dozen wellness centers, making them the first choice for banquets among the city’s elite.

At the mall, Lu Feng casually chose a few sets of sports clothes and shoes.

After trying them on, Assistant Chen praised him, “Young Master Feng, dressed in sportswear, you look just like a university student.”

“I feel fine as I am. Why should I look like a university student?” Lu Feng replied.

Chen was left speechless again. He realized that this young master who had appeared out of nowhere had a way of thinking completely different from ordinary people; their minds weren’t even on the same wavelength.

While picking out clothes, Lu Feng ran into someone: the punk with the earring he’d clashed with yesterday, who was now holding his bandaged hand.

The earring punk was slicing open a middle-aged boss’s fanny pack with a razor blade. Spotting Lu Feng from a distance, he shuddered, hurriedly pocketed the blade, and fled in panic.

After buying the clothes and leaving the mall, Lu Feng and Assistant Chen headed to the underground parking lot to fetch the car.

No sooner had they entered than they were blocked by a group of gaudy, slick-haired punks.

The earring punk pulled off his sock and slipped it over a security camera, then sidled up to a man with a dragon tattoo on his arm, bowing obsequiously, “Boss, the eye in the sky’s covered.”

“This the kid who gave you a beating?” the tattooed man asked, glaring at Lu Feng.

“That’s him. Yesterday I had a big score lined up—could’ve netted at least ten grand for you, boss—but this kid messed everything up. He doesn’t know the rules at all. Calls it robbing a robber but won’t even state his name,” the earring punk whined, pointing at Lu Feng.

The tattooed man crossed his arms, chin high and arrogance radiating as he addressed Lu Feng, “Kid, do you know what happens to someone who hits one of my boys?”

“Step aside,” Lu Feng replied, his expression unchanged.

“What? Didn’t you hear me, you little punk?” the tattooed man snarled, eyes flashing.

“You’re in the way,” Lu Feng said in the same flat tone.

“Screw you! Think our boss here’s a joke? Want to get chopped up?” the earring punk blustered, emboldened by his companions.

Lu Feng was about to retort when Assistant Chen quickly stepped in front of him, forcing a smile and speaking to the tattooed man, “Let’s talk this out, no need for hostility. May I ask who you boys work for? Our President Su is friends with Uncle Meng from Baisha—perhaps we can all sit down for tea another day.”

“You think a few words will smooth this over after you hurt my brother? Here’s the deal: the hand that hurt my brother—hold it out and let me give it a chop, and we’ll call it even. Otherwise, you’re leaving here on a stretcher,” the tattooed man threatened, jabbing a finger at the ground.

“Let’s not get violent… how about this? We’ll pay for medical expenses, any amount is fine,” Assistant Chen pleaded, sweating profusely. Lu Feng was his responsibility, and if anything happened to him, his job was as good as lost. He could only try to negotiate.

“Medical expenses? Let me chop a hand and I’ll pay the medical bill!” The tattooed man lifted his shirt, revealing a machete at his waist.

“No, no, no… Your friend doesn’t look too badly hurt. I’ll give you twenty thousand for medical costs—let’s leave it at that, okay?” Assistant Chen was desperate, his forehead slick with sweat.

“You think you’re dealing with beggars? Beat it or I’ll chop you too!” the earring punk sneered, emboldened by his comrades.

Suddenly, Lu Feng reached behind and pulled Assistant Chen out of the way. “If they’re looking for a beating, don’t stop them. No point in worrying about them—they won’t appreciate it,” Lu Feng said.

“Oh, so someone’s got more guts than Leopard here on Tande Street,” the tattooed man sneered, rolling his shoulders so that the tattooed beast rippled across his muscled arm.

Assistant Chen, hands trembling, fumbled for his phone to call the police.

The earring punk saw this and lunged, snatching the phone and kicking Assistant Chen to the ground. “Still trying to call the cops? You must have a death wish!” He raised the machete and swung it down at Assistant Chen.

Assistant Chen cried out in terror, but the blade stopped halfway.

Lu Feng had somehow appeared beside the earring punk, gripping his wrist in a vise.

“Even a big dog answers to someone. You’re forcing my hand here,” Lu Feng said, sounding almost regretful.

“Get him! Chop him up!” the punks all rushed Lu Feng. He raised his fist and slammed it into the earring punk’s face, sending him flying into his own companions, who tumbled to the ground clutching their chests in pain.

Lu Feng immediately unleashed a flurry of kicks—the Shadowless Kicks of Yunshan—his feet a blur as he spun and sent punks flying in all directions.

The tattooed Leopard watched Lu Feng’s movements with growing alarm. Seizing the chance as Lu Feng sent his lackeys flying, Leopard drew his machete and crept up behind Lu Feng, aiming for his lower back.

But Lu Feng had already sensed his move. His right hand flashed back to seize Leopard’s wrist, pulling him forward, then squeezing until the bones cracked and the machete clattered to the floor. With a kick, Lu Feng sent the blade spinning, and as it flew, his left elbow crashed into Leopard’s shoulder.

Leopard grunted in pain, his body sagging, but he was a hardened street fighter—ruthless with others and himself. Ignoring the agony in his shoulder, he kneed at Lu Feng’s tailbone.

Lu Feng released Leopard’s wrist, lunged forward, and knocked down another punk with a single punch, dodging the knee.

Leopard’s knee missed its target. As he tried to pursue, the machete, falling from above, stabbed cleanly into his thigh, hilt-deep. He howled, clutching his leg as he collapsed.

In the blink of an eye, all seven of Leopard’s henchmen lay sprawled on the ground, none able to stand.

Assistant Chen, who had crawled behind a pillar to call the police, now emerged to find all the vicious thugs lying groaning on the floor, only Lu Feng still standing.

Lu Feng strode over to Leopard, planted his foot on his hand, and looked down at him. “Leopard, right?”

“Yes, yes…” Leopard nodded frantically. His leg was badly injured—if the blade had hit muscle or ligament, it was likely ruined. He dared not show any more bravado.

“My time is valuable. You blocked my path and got yourselves beaten up, wasting three minutes in total. In that time, I could have seen at least three patients. My consultation fee isn’t small—how do you plan to compensate me?” Lu Feng asked.

“I’ll pay, I’ll pay! Just name your price, big brother,” Leopard stammered.

“My master always said city consultations cost ten times what they do in the countryside. Three minutes, that’s three thousand in total—not too much, right?” Lu Feng mused aloud.

Leopard was stunned. Paying compensation was normal after losing a fight, but he hadn’t expected just three thousand.

Not that it was too much—if anything, it was too little. He’d expected to be out seventy or eighty grand at least.

“Not too much, not too much…” Leopard agreed quickly, pulling out his wallet and handing Lu Feng a thick wad of cash, terrified Lu Feng would change his mind and demand much more.

That money had been meant for a night of fun with the gang after the fight; now it was gone as compensation.

Lu Feng counted out thirty hundred-yuan bills, tossing the rest back to Leopard.

Assistant Chen watched this entire “extortion” play out in a daze, unsure whether the young master he served was a gentleman or a gangster.

“My shopping money,” Lu Feng said, tossing the three thousand to Assistant Chen. Seeing him still in a daze, he waved his hand in front of his face. “Let’s get the car and go home. Or are you waiting for them to treat us to dinner?”

Assistant Chen snapped back to his senses but stood rooted to the spot. “I… I already called the police…”