thefictionvixens Chapter 17: The Money-Adding Guy
Chapter 17: The Money-Adding Guy
Late at night, apart from the streetlights, it was deserted and empty.
Wu Zhaoyong stared at Song Zhaowen for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed: "Hard Fist Wen, I heard about your fight with Prince Tai last night. In the martial arts world, there are only wrong names, not wrong nicknames. Hard Fist Wen? Your fist and foot skills are not bad. But fist and foot are fist and foot, and a knife is a knife. You didn't bring any weapons today, did you?"
Song Zhaowen indeed didn't bring it. He only brought his wallet and keys with him when he went out drinking; he didn't even bring the Black Star gun. Bringing a gun while drinking on his own turf would be difficult to explain if the police checked his license.
"I didn't bring any," Song Zhaowen said honestly. "But, my money is hard to earn, you know."
"Really? I hope you can stay this stubborn later!"
Instead of charging forward, he slid sideways, his hands outstretched, two eight-bladed swords flashing coldly in the night, one above and one below, sealing off Song Zhaowen's space to dodge left and right. The movements were fast and the angles were tricky, clearly the work of an expert who had practiced swordsmanship for many years.
Song Zhaowen's pupils contracted slightly. The instant the other person moved, he moved as well.
It's not retreating, it's moving forward.
He charged forward into the flashing blades.
Wu Zhaoyong's eyes sharpened. He had seen too many people react to a knife: they either retreat, dodge, or parry. Anyone who advances instead of retreating is either a madman or a master.
Song Zhaowen sidestepped, dodging the first knife that grazed his cheek; the wind from the blade stung his skin. At the same time, his left hand shot out like a venomous snake, not to grab the knife, but to seize Wu Zhaoyong's wrist holding it.
With a flick of his wrist, Wu Zhaoyong slashed at Song Zhaowen's palm with a second knife.
But Song Zhaowen was faster. Just as the blade was about to touch the skin, his fingers, like hooks, gripped Wu Zhaoyong's wrist pulse point and squeezed hard.
Wu Zhaoyong felt a numbness in his entire arm, and his strength instantly vanished by more than half. But he reacted extremely quickly, his left-hand knife already slashing back, aiming straight for Song Zhaowen's throat.
Instead of retreating, Song Zhaowen advanced, crashing into Wu Zhaoyong's arms. His shoulder slammed heavily into Wu's chest, while his knee simultaneously struck Wu's abdomen.
Wu Zhaoyong grunted and took two steps back, but his right hand had already swung out the knife again.
The alley was too narrow, and the glint of the blade blocked almost every angle. Song Zhaowen had his back against the wall, with nowhere to hide.
Just as the blade was about to reach him, Song Zhaowen suddenly raised his hand, not to block, but to slam the side of the blade hard with the heel of his palm.
"clang!"
With a crisp sound, Wu Zhaoyong felt a tremendous force from the blade, which made his hand go numb. The blade veered off course, grazing Song Zhaowen's shoulder and striking the wall, sending sparks flying.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Song Zhaowen closed in, his right hand flashing out like lightning, his five fingers joined together, and delivered a heavy chop to Wu Zhaoyong's neck.
Wu Zhaoyong's vision went black, and he staggered backward, nearly dropping his twin swords. He shook his head, and finally, a look of horror appeared in his eyes.
That's too fast. This person's reaction speed and attack angle are completely unlike those of an ordinary martial artist.
No! Even a trained professional wouldn't have such incredible reaction speed.
Song Zhaowen gave him no chance to catch his breath. He took a step forward, his right hand reaching out again, this time with a grappling technique, grabbing Wu Zhaoyong's right wrist and twisting it forcefully.
"Click."
The sound of a dislocated joint was particularly clear in the quiet alley.
Wu Zhaoyong's face paled, and he swung his knife again with his left hand, but it had lost its rhythm. Song Zhaowen dodged to the side and kicked him in the side of the knee.
Wu Zhaoyong knelt down, and the knife in his left hand flew out of his hand, landing with a clatter in the distance.
Only heavy breathing could be heard in the alley.
Song Zhaowen bent down and picked up the two eight-bladed swords. The blades were very light, but the craftsmanship was excellent; they were clearly custom-made.
He walked up to Wu Zhaoyong and squatted down: "Brother Jiaqian, what's the plan now?"
Wu Zhaoyong clutched his dislocated wrist, his forehead covered in cold sweat: "Damn it! I didn't expect you to be so shrewd. We've lost big time this time. More money, you have to pay!"
"Ha, you're still thinking about money even at this point? Don't you care about what will happen to you later?"
Looking at Song Zhaowen's eyes, which were like a cat playing with a mouse.
Wu Zhaoyong gritted his teeth: "Kill me or torture me, it's up to you. I admit I'm not as skilled. But I have a favor to ask of you: burn more paper money for me. I'm used to spending money lavishly, and I'm afraid I won't have enough to spend in the afterlife."
Song Zhaowen shook his head and laughed, "Kill you? Brother Jiaqian, I think you've misunderstood something. I, Song Zhaowen, am a law-abiding citizen~"
"Then let me go?"
But Song Zhaowen held down Wu Zhaoyong, who was trying to get up.
"Ha, you want to kill me? If I just let you go for nothing, wouldn't everyone come after me?"
"So what do you want?"
"Hey bro, how much do you think your life is worth?"
What do you mean?
"Literally, how much money are you willing to spend to buy your life? Friendly reminder: you only have one chance to answer, so don't underestimate yourself!"
The style of the story changes drastically, with Song Zhaowen now "robbing" the money-loving "Brother Jiaqian".
Wu Zhaoyong knelt on the ground, looking up at Song Zhaowen. The light from the streetlamp shone from the side, casting alternating shadows on Song Zhaowen's face. His eyes were devoid of emotion, yet they sent chills down Wu Zhaoyong's spine.
He licked his chapped lips, his Adam's apple bobbing. A throbbing pain still lingered in his right wrist, a reminder that he was now at the mercy of others.
"Damn it, how am I supposed to know how much I'm worth? Just name your price. I hate having to think."
"Okay! Then let me give you a hint, bro, how much do you usually charge for a life?"
Wu Zhaoyong was silent for a few seconds: "It depends on the person. For ordinary people, it's 100,000 to 200,000. For difficult ones, it's 200,000 to 300,000."
"And what about you?" Song Zhaowen asked, "Is your fate difficult or easy to manage?"
That was a tricky question. Wu Zhaoyong gritted his teeth: "My life... is worth 300,000."
"Three hundred thousand?" Song Zhaowen laughed: "Brother Jiaqian, you underestimate yourself. With your skills and experience, you're considered a top-notch fighter in the underworld. I think you're worth at least that much."
He held up five fingers.
"Five hundred thousand?" Wu Zhaoyong asked.
Song Zhaowen nodded: "Yes, 500,000. But times are tough these days, money's hard to earn and life's tough, so I'll give you a friendly discount, 400,000 it is."
Wu Zhaoyong stared at him as if he were seeing this person for the first time. He had been in the underworld for so many years and had seen ruthless, cunning, and reckless people, but he had never seen anyone like Song Zhaowen who spoke of "robbery" so casually and with such a playful tone.
"Damn it, just kill me!" This guy only takes money and never gives it back. Getting him to spend so much money is worse than just giving him a quick death!
"I knew it. Let's try a different approach." Song Zhaowen sneered. "How about this: give me your pager number. Consider the four hundred thousand a commission. You can't refuse to kill anyone I want in the future, or I'll take it all back with interest."
"Damn, you win! 4578XXXX."