Zhengyang's phone blared, and Third Uncle Lei Qiuping's voice roared through like a wounded beast. "Zhengyang, save me! Those bastards beat me up—ow, it hurts! Get to Beijing North Military Compound Five, pronto. Your uncle's counting on you to avenge me!"
"What's up with your Third Uncle?" Xu Miaoli asked, eyeing Zhengyang as he hung up, her tone laced with suspicion. She hadn't caught the full call, but trouble was clearly brewing for Old Third.
Zhengyang rubbed his temples. His uncle, the former "Demon King of Chaos," outdid even him in stirring up messes. Likely, he'd clashed with someone and lost face. In Beijing, who'd dare lay a hand on Lei Qiuping? Unlikely. Still, his uncle's plea was pitiful. "Third Uncle says he got beat up. Mom, I'll check it out."
Xu Miaoli sighed. "He's pushing forty and still brawling like a kid. I don't even know what to say. Go, Zhengyang, talk some sense into him. Fighting's not for men his age."
She climbed into her bodyguard-driven car, while Zhengyang floored his, speeding to the Beijing North Military District. The compound was just a small camp, one of six under the Beijing General Military District, labeled Compounds One through Six. Qiuping's Fifth Compound held decent status. These divisions were designed to spark competition, fostering combat prowess through rivalry. The Military Commission's bigwigs tacitly endorsed these skirmishes, ignoring them unless someone died.
Thus, in open challenges, the loser getting thrashed was par for the course. Qiuping, unlucky today, had met his match—and taken a brutal beating. When Zhengyang found him, his face was swollen, his uniform sleeve torn, a comical sight. But seeing his uncle's sour mood and grim expression, Zhengyang held back a laugh, offering comfort. "Third Uncle, lost a spar? Win some, lose some. Train harder next time. You okay?"
Zhengyang, a frequent visitor, strolled in unchallenged, familiar to all. A smug voice cut through. "Lei Qiuping, old man, needing a kid to console you? Concede yet? Admit defeat, and stay away from Xiaomin—she's my woman."
The speaker, a soldier Qiuping's age, radiated triumph, grinning at his downed rival. Zhengyang blinked. "Third Uncle, you're lovesick?" This was huge for the Leis. Qiuping's bachelorhood stumped even Patriarch Yunbao, who'd given up nagging. Like Zhengyang, as long as Qiuping didn't disgrace the family, he was free to roam. A love interest? That changed things.
If it were just a spar, Zhengyang might've stayed out, but his uncle's heart was on the line. Xiaomin? No memory of her. "What's going on here? Slacking instead of training? Looking for a beating?" A sharp, feminine bellow rang out from the training field's edge. A female officer strode over, steps firm and commanding.
Qiuping straightened, sheepish, whispering, "That's Instructor Wu Xiaomin, new to our camp. Zhengyang, what do you think?" The woman, around thirty, was striking—mature, curvaceous, her crisp uniform blending military precision with an unspoken allure. Less delicate, more seasoned seductress, she exuded a bold charm.
"Instructor Wu, what a surprise!" the burly officer, Zhou Hongjun, gushed, rushing to her. "Third Compound won today's spar. Join us to celebrate—give us the honor!" His fawning was blatant.
"Celebrate my foot, Zhou Hongjun!" Wu snapped. "No time for your nonsense. One win and you're cocky? Scram!" Zhengyang nearly fell over, floored by her bluntness. But Qiuping's starry-eyed gaze left him speechless. Radishes and cabbages—everyone's got their taste.
Wu marched to Qiuping, barking, "Didn't you brag you're unbeatable? Yesterday, you swore you'd crush the other compounds. Now you're the one crushed! Look at you, pathetic—still a man?"
Her instructor's tongue spared no one, not even a superior like Qiuping, scolding him like a misbehaving cadet. "Even men slip, horses stumble," Qiuping mumbled, face red, puffing himself up. Men always preened before their crush.
Zhou, ignored by Wu, sneered from behind. "Oh? How about another round, with Instructor Wu as referee? Don't worry, I'll go easy this time."
"Come at me!" Qiuping roared. Pride was a man's downfall, and Qiuping, never the calm type, couldn't stand losing face before his beloved. Weak or not, he'd fight.
Zhengyang sighed. Beaten to a pulp, and still playing tough? His uncle deserved that pig face. Wu hesitated, sensing Qiuping's thrashing. She'd meant to give him an out, but Zhou's taunt hooked him. Losing again would be worse. Men—what were they thinking?
Zhengyang grinned. "You lot need my Third Uncle to step in? Overkill. With a few tricks he taught me, I'll flatten you all. Third Uncle, let me handle this."
Wu's pause hinted at a chance for Qiuping's romance, so Zhengyang stepped up. Qiuping, regretting his bravado—knowing Zhou, fresh from Ning Buluan's elite training, outclassed him—lit up at Zhengyang's offer. Clearing his throat, he said, "Zhengyang, I'll give you a shot. Let's see if you've been slacking. Go easy, though—I'd hate for them to break."
Zhengyang's reputation preceded him. His takedown of Lin Kuang at Yaochi Club was known but hushed, details vague. His stepping in for Qiuping stunned the crowd. Wu, knowing Zhengyang's notoriety, despised his character but didn't want him hurt. Glaring at Qiuping, she snapped, "Lei Qiuping, you—"
Qiuping cut her off, pulling her aside. "Zhou Hongjun, ready? I went soft earlier, but now it's serious. If you can't even beat my nephew, don't bother challenging me. I might not hold back—could be fatal."
Zhou sneered at Zhengyang. "What, uncle and nephew tag-teaming? Fine, let's see the Lei family's skills. Hope you're as tough as you talk—go easy on me, yeah?" His "go easy" dripped with menace, his grin promising no mercy. If they wanted pain, he'd deliver.
"Don't worry, I'll be gentle," Zhengyang said airily, strolling forward. This wasn't a solo duel but a seven-man team fight—six soldiers plus Zhou. Wu, watching his leisurely pace, panicked. "Lei Qiuping, you're no man, letting your nephew fight your battles! I misjudged you. Call him back, or do I have to step in?"
Qiuping, red from her tirade, mumbled, "Instructor Wu, no worries. My nephew's a beast. You'll see—Zhou's in for a world of hurt."
In his mind, Qiuping pictured Zhou sporting twin black eyes, courtesy of Zhengyang's ruthless streak.