Chapter 147 — The Long-Awaited...

Ouyang Junwei had been concentrating hard, hoping to land a fatal blow on Yang Ce, and Yang Juehuan's words gave him a start. Surely the boy wasn't about to change his mind? From his tone, he wasn't thinking of playing some trick, was he?

Ouyang Junwei was startled and dared not delay any longer. With a "Hah!" he lashed out with a kick. It was a standard taekwondo kick, delivered with tremendous force—landed on a person, it could inflict serious injury.

But how could such a move so much as scratch Yang Ce? Yang Ce shifted lightly to the side, and Ouyang Junwei's kick met empty air.

"All right, you're done, aren't you? If you're done, then it's my turn." Yang Ce truly had no patience for dawdling with this Ouyang Junwei, but since he'd promised the man a fair contest, he couldn't go back on his word.

"Hm?" Ouyang Junwei was taken aback by Yang Juehuan's words, then immediately overjoyed. In a fight between two people, no matter who struck first, the result was usually the two of them grappling together. But from what Yang Cenbin meant, it seemed they would take turns—one move each.

Ouyang Junwei had indeed been afraid that once they grappled, Yang Ce might use some dirty trick against him, and that one moment of inattention would be his undoing. Now, things were better: according to Yang Ce, one move each, so he'd have enough presence of mind to deal with Yang Juehuan's techniques without worrying about underhanded tricks.

"Good." Ouyang Junwei nodded. "Then make your move. I'll take it."

"Then watch yourself—don't let me kill you with a single blow, or there'll be no more fun for the two of us," Yang Ce said with a chuckle.

"Don't worry, you won't finish me with one blow." Angry as he was, Ouyang Junwei still spoke with patience.

Yang Yu nodded, said, "I'm making my move now," and then, imitating Ouyang Junwei, took a running start and launched a flying kick at Ouyang Junwei.

Ouyang Junwei was delighted. So Yang Shouxuan was nothing much after all—he used a flying kick, and Yang used a flying kick too. What could such a flying kick do to him? At this thought, Ouyang Junwei executed a move even more effortless than Yang Ce's: he touched his gold-rimmed glasses, flicked his hair, and tilted his whole body to the side, dodging Yang Cenbin's kick.

Just as Ouyang Junwei was feeling immensely pleased with himself and about to toss off a few taunts at Yang Juehuan, he suddenly felt a sharp gust of wind slice past his ear, and then a tremendous force struck his temple, as though it would burst his skull.

Ouyang Junwei felt his brain go "boom," and then it seemed his skull was too small a vessel, as if the brains inside were trying to burst out; his head hurt so badly it felt ready to explode.

Ouyang Junwei clutched his head and dropped to his knees with a thud, gasping for breath in great heaves. His eyeballs bulged outward little by little, and finally his whole body gave a violent convulsion; then, blood streaming from every orifice, he collapsed to the ground and moved no more.

Yang Cenbin's single move never failed. A chain flying kick—however cautious Ouyang Junwei might be, he would never have imagined that after Yang Cenbin's kick in midair, another kick could follow.

"I told you to watch yourself, to beware the one-hit kill. I didn't expect you'd still be this weak." Yang Ce glanced at Ouyang Junwei lying dead on the ground and spoke without a trace of pity.

He turned, about to continue dealing with that little punk Liu Jihao, when he caught a foul stench. Looking closely, he saw that Liu Jihao had at some point been frightened into losing control of his bowels, and was now sitting on the ground in a daze, his face a mask of terror.

Yang Ce held his breath and barked, "Are you dead or not?"

"I—I'm dead—no, no, I'm not dead!" Jolted back to his senses by Yang Cenbin's shout, Liu Jihao blurted, "Brother Yang, Boss Yang, Ancestor Yang, please spare me! I wouldn't dare, I'll never dare provoke you again. I don't even want the twenty million anymore. I'm begging you, don't kill me, I was really wrong!"

"Where are Wang Mei's parents?" Yang Wenru frowned and asked.

"In the villa's basement. I'm not lying to you, really. If you don't believe me, I can take you to see. Really, really, I didn't mistreat them—I kept them fed and watered," Liu Jihao said, glancing sidelong at Yan.

"Is that so?" Yang Ce asked, and as he did, he used his ability to look toward the villa's basement. Sure enough, he saw the two old people locked in a small room. Neither was bound with ropes, and by the look of things they had not suffered any ill treatment.

The two of them were sitting in their chairs just then, talking with worried, bitter faces. Yang Cenbin finally let himself relax. It seemed Liu Jihao was still human after all, so he would leave him a way to live.

Still, death could be spared but punishment could not be escaped. Yang Ce mused over whether to turn the fellow into an idiot and be done with future troubles. Otherwise, who knew whether this brat might one day swallow some Viagra and puff himself up, nursing fantasies of coming after him.

Hearing Yang Yongjin speak, Liu Jihao thought he believed him, and he was so terrified his liver and gall nearly split apart. Three ruthless men who had seemed invincible in his eyes now lay as three corpses thanks to Yang Ce. Liu Jihao asked himself whether he had any capital at all to contend with Yan.

"Brother Yang, I really am not lying to you—I will take you there right now." With that, Liu Jihao scrambled up from the floor and staggered toward the stairs. But unexpectedly, perhaps because his nerves were wound so tight that his body would not obey him, he stepped carelessly in his own mess from a moment ago, his foot slid out from under him, and he pitched headfirst down the staircase.

"Aah!" Liu Jihao shrieked, tumbling clatter and thump down the stairs, and then there was no more sound.

Yang Ce peered down in puzzlement and was instantly overcome with gloom. Well, this was just fine—it saved him the trouble of doing it himself. He saw that half of Liu Jihao's head and neck had been driven into his own body; clearly there was no saving him. "He who digs his own grave cannot live," Yang Ce sighed, shaking his head. What did evil repaid with evil mean? This was the textbook case. Yang Ce casually lifted the pistol from Ouyang Kanqi's bosom and tucked it into his pocket. Carrying the twenty million he had brought with him, he stepped around Liu Jihao's corpse, made his way to the basement, and opened the outer lock with great ease—a lock like that was nothing at all to Heng.

"Who are you?" Seeing a young man suddenly burst into the basement, Wang Mei's mother asked in some alarm.

"You must be Wang Mei's parents," Yang Yanchuan said.

"Yes, we are. Who are you?" Wang Mei's mother asked, though her voice had steadied a little. If he had asked the question that way, he certainly could not be one of Liu Jihao's crew, for Liu Jihao's people all knew who they were.

"I am a friend of Wang Mei's. I have come to rescue you," Yang Yanzhou said.

"Oh! You are a friend of Wang Mei's—that is wonderful. But how did you get in? Liu Jihao's men are very ferocious," Wang Mei's mother said with some worry.

"There is a bunch of men outside, probably Liu Jihao's enemies. They are fighting it out upstairs right now, and I slipped in while they were not paying attention." Yang Ce did not tell them the truth but simply made up this excuse. "Let us hurry and go. We can talk about everything once we are back."

"Yes, yes. Old woman, this young man is right—we should leave first and talk later," Wang Mei's father said, nodding repeatedly.

Yang Ce led Wang Mei's parents quickly out of the villa. As for the corpses inside, that was beyond Yang Ce's concern—let them be however they would be.