The accusations hung heavy in the air, truths many knew but kept from Lei Zhengyang. Now, aired publicly, Tang Hanying, He Xiangyue, and Qian Feihe squirmed, their faces burning with shame.
He Xiangyue's expression soured. "So, Boss Lei, you're really kicking us out of Yangtian League?" he demanded, glaring.
Tang Hanying chimed in, smug. "Think hard about the consequences, Boss. Without us, Yangtian's nothing." The trio, thick as thieves, had milked Zhengyang's name for profit, treating the League's reputation as collateral. They saw him as a fool to exploit.
Zhengyang's voice was calm, almost bored. "I know you think Yangtian can't function without you. Starting tomorrow, let's see how it spins without you at all."
Crack! Qian Feihe slammed the table, rising with a sneer. "Fine, what's left to say? Yangtian's a joke without us. Boss Lei, mountains don't turn, but rivers do. You'll regret this." To them, Zhengyang was a useless figurehead. The League's modest clout stemmed from the Lei family's shadow, but they'd run the show. Without them, it'd crumble—or so they thought.
Zhengyang didn't flinch. "Those named can leave. No escort needed. Anyone else wanting to join them? Door's open." His tone was icy, indifferent.
The trio smirked, strutting with arrogance. Tang Hanying called out, "Brothers, let's go! No future here. Lin Shao's Elite Club is expanding—let's join him!" A handful followed, trailing their exit. To them, sticking with Zhengyang was a dead end.
Xiao Dasheng's eyes blazed with fury. "Boss, why let those pricks walk so easy? Their attitude's begging for a beatdown!"
Zhengyang's smile was mild, unruffled. "Monkey, you're too worked up. Their exit lets us rebuild Yangtian from scratch. I should thank them—they laid the foundation. But if they cross us again, I won't play nice."
Li Yuanfeng grinned, relieved. "Boss, you've got patience I can't match. I was this close to jumping up and smashing those bastards."
Zhengyang waved it off. "Monkey, Windy, time to rebuild Yangtian for real. First task: dig up everything on the North Wolf Gang's operations in the capital. I want them driven out."
The North Wolf Gang, one of the North's fiercest underworld crews, was led by Zhang Feng, once a core ally of Zhengyang's. After the Song Yingfei incident, Zhang vanished, dodging Zhengyang's summons. Zhengyang had offered a chance; Zhang spat on it. Now, mercy was off the table.
Xiao Dasheng paled. "Boss, you're hitting the North Wolf Gang? Their power's no joke. Shouldn't we plan this?"
"No need to panic," Zhengyang said. "I'm not wiping them out—yet. Just a shake-up. The North Wolf Gang's useful; it'll fuel Yangtian's growth. But Zhang Feng? He doesn't get to keep breathing."
His casual delivery, stating death as fact, sent a chill through the room. Xiao Dasheng swallowed his words, nodding. "Yes, Boss." If they were playing big, Yangtian needed iron discipline—no more coasting. The game was on.
A week later, Zhengyang trekked to Qingsource Mountain's cave. Unlike past visits, Lei Qiuping, his third uncle, showed no spark of joy, even as Zhengyang carried fragrant food. Qiuping merely glanced at him, then shut his eyes, channeling potent inner energy coursing through his veins.
Zhengyang sat nearby, silent, waiting patiently. A wisp of azure mist rose from Qiuping's head, his face flushing red. With a sudden arm shake, he unleashed twin punches, raw energy surging like invisible waves. Crack! A massive stone shattered, crumbling into countless shards.
"Hahaha! I did it!" Qiuping whooped, clutching the fragments, elated.
Zhengyang's voice cut through. "Time's up, Third Uncle. Let's head back."
"Back?" Qiuping laughed. "I wanna stay a few more days. This feels too good—my power's like a raging ocean, endless! I've got real energy now, real energy!"
Zhengyang hadn't expected three months of grueling training to make his uncle attached to this cave. "Sure, stay if you want. But if Instructor Wu Xiaomin gets snatched by another guy, don't blame me. I'm out. Come back when you're ready." He turned to leave.
Qiuping yelped, "Hey, you can't just ditch me! At least unlock my chains first!"
Zhengyang looked back, smirking like Qiuping was a fool. "Your brain broken? With your new energy, those chains can hold you?"
Qiuping's eyes widened. "You little bastard!" Power surged through his arms. With a swing—snap, snap!—the iron cuffs tore apart, freeing his hands. A kick, energy focused, shattered the leg chains. Three months locked up, now free, he was a caged bird ready to soar.
He lunged at Zhengyang. "You punk, I don't believe I can't take you now! Let's spar!" Months of pent-up frustration found a target. At peak energy, he dreamed of pummeling Zhengyang into a pulp.
"Left, right, left again, right!" Zhengyang dodged effortlessly, grinning. "Third Uncle, you've leveled up, no lie. But beating me? Not even close. Let me show you real power."
Golden Dragon energy flooded his veins, his body a blur of lightning. Qiuping had no chance. Three kicks sent him flying, crashing against the cave wall, pain searing his core. Before he could recover, Zhengyang's iron fist rocketed toward him. Panicked, Qiuping rolled aside like a desperate mule, dodging as the punch slammed the wall, carving a deep crater. Cold sweat drenched him—if that hit, he'd be done.
Zhengyang stood, shaking out his fist, blowing on it casually. "Decent force. Shame it missed."
Qiuping gaped, rattled. Missed? You trying to kill me for real, you bastard? Days of basking in his newfound strength, feeling invincible, crashed hard. Zhengyang was a freak—no normal rules applied.
"Let's go home," Zhengyang said. "Keep at it, and one day you'll hit my level. Growth's limitless."
Qiuping, disheveled and wild-looking, huffed. "Now that's human talk."
Back home, the Lei family stared like Qiuping was a creature from another world. Three months had transformed him. His buzzcut had grown into tangled locks, a beard cloaking his face, resembling a weathered beggar or savage hermit. Yet, a fierce aura radiated from him, one Old Master Lei sensed keenly.
After a bath and a hearty meal, Qiuping barely had time to share his ordeal before itching to fulfill his promise to Wu Xiaomin. Zhengyang stopped him. "Third Uncle, before you spar with Instructor Wu, one task first. Help me drive the North Wolf Gang out of the capital. Consider it your test."
Driving them out wasn't annihilation—yet. Zhengyang knew the North Wolf Gang would be Yangtian's steppingstone, but first, it'd sharpen their blade.