Many of the establishments here were far beyond the means of average salary workers. Take Century Heavenly Sound V, where Wang Zhuo and his group were; the two-hour private room rental, plus standard drinks and a fruit platter, already cost over five hundred yuan. If they had ordered two bottles of wine, foreign or domestic, and stayed a little longer, the bill would easily equate to a salary worker's entire monthly income. Consequently, those who frequented such places were often people of a certain standing. Add in the young men and women engaged in illicit companionship, the security enforcers, the pimps, and the drug dealers, and you had a veritable melting pot—a thousand different faces painting a complex portrait of humanity.

The elevator lobby of Century Heavenly Sound V faced the main hall of the downstairs lounge bar, separated only by a movable screen. When Wang Zhuo sent one bodyguard flying with a kick, the man tumbled backward, crashing against the foot of a bar table. Though no tables or chairs overturned, the disturbance caught the attention of the patrons at that table, instantly creating a minor commotion.

One side of the screen offered a view toward the exit; the other bordered the public restrooms on the first floor. With three elevators running simultaneously, this area was a constant flow of people coming and going.

Ever since Tao Haitong and his entourage had gathered nearby, they had drawn a certain amount of notice. Tonight was not ordinary; Century Heavenly Sound had invited the wildly popular female singer Bai Shuang, and many figures from the entertainment industry were there to show support, including numerous celebrities and influential guests. At least five or six groups recognized the Tao brothers. Tao Qian was one thing, but Tao Haitong, at thirty-nine, had been romantically linked with female stars for almost fifteen years, even enduring one failed marriage to an actress. In entertainment circles, he carried a certain reputation—"Who in this world doesn't know you?" So, when some people saw Tao Haitong lingering by the elevators with his entourage, they took notice, sensing that this spoiled rich kid was about to stir up some trouble, and they settled in to watch the spectacle.

"BOOM!"

Suddenly, a deafening crash echoed as a large screen was violently knocked to the ground. The bright lights of the elevator lobby instantly spilled into the dimly lit bar, causing even the singer Bai Shuang, who had just stepped onto the stage, to freeze. The expected cheers and applause failed to materialize, completely overshadowed by the noise from across the room! Those in the know understood that Tao Haitong had engaged in a brawl. Those who were clueless assumed the MC had just finished announcing, "And now, please welcome the dazzling Miss Bai Shuang!" and that this massive commotion was merely an elaborate setup to build hype for her entrance! In that moment, every eye pivoted toward that side of the bar, the singer Bai Shuang on stage included. For a brief second, the entire bar fell into an absolute hush due to the sudden disruption! Immediately following that silence, a roar erupted from beneath the fallen screen. A powerfully built man leaped up, pushing off hard with his feet, charging toward a young man on the opposite side!

The instant the screen collapsed, what was revealed to the assembled crowd was Wang Zhuo's agile posture right after he had felled "Da Long." They had exchanged a few moves, and then Wang Zhuo had suddenly unleashed a sharp kick, driving Da Long back against the screen. Da Long braced himself, but he hadn't expected the screen’s structural integrity to be so poor; he smashed it down with his backside.

Having kicked Da Long down, Wang Zhuo hadn't anticipated the screen's fragility either—it simply toppled. Seeing hundreds of eyes fixed upon him, he momentarily felt awkward. He slowly retracted the classic, Bruce Lee-esque pose he'd adopted after striking someone, caught slightly off guard himself.

In Tao Haitong’s plan, the lookout should have grabbed Ning Yao and Ruan Mingqing from behind just as Wang Zhuo was apprehended. However, Wang Zhuo had neutralized that man inside the elevator and tossed him up to the second floor. Thus, Ning Yao and Ruan Mingqing had already exited the elevator. But they were not stepping forward to plead for Wang Zhuo, as Tao Haitong had predicted, because Wang Zhuo hadn't been caught at all!

When Da Long was knocked down, Tao Haitong and Tao Qian were genuinely startled by the opponent's unexpected combat prowess. Now, with the fallen screen exposing them to hundreds of onlookers, the situation felt even more complicated.

Just then, Da Long roared in anger and charged again. His physique was as massive as a wild ox, his momentum immense, body and fist uniting as he drove a punch toward Wang Zhuo’s face! Wang Zhuo sneered dismissively. Such a move might work on a stationary target, a timid fighter, or an opponent clearly outmatched. But to use such a basic, unfeinted attack against him? Wasn't that just embarrassing himself? He shifted his weight back, turned, and leaned away—Wang Zhuo’s evasion was fluid, one continuous motion. Just as he was about to counter with a punch to Da Long’s jaw, his X-ray vision suddenly detected an anomaly in Da Long’s musculature. He instantly aborted his plan, tapping his toe against the ground and leaping back a full step.

Da Long’s follow-up move materialized exactly as Wang Zhuo's vision predicted. It turned out that the initial haymaker punch was merely a practiced feint, even though it carried genuine power. It concealed a hidden follow-up: the moment an opponent sidestepped to counter, the charging punch morphed into a devastating elbow strike aimed directly at the opponent's chest. Even if the target managed to block with both arms in their haste, it would grant Da Long the initiative to launch his relentless, aggressive follow-up assault.

But with the aid of his X-ray vision, Wang Zhuo could foresee the attack, causing Da Long's seemingly guaranteed sequence to fail. As Da Long’s elbow connected only with the lapel of Wang Zhuo’s jacket, a cold sense of dread washing over him, Wang Zhuo unleashed both fists, smashing them toward Da Long’s face!

The reason an elbow strike carries such force is that it uses only a fraction of the arm's length, allowing the body’s entire power to concentrate there. Its obvious weakness, however, is that the point of the elbow and the face—the area requiring critical protection—are very close. When the elbow misses, the opponent can easily land a straight punch on the attacker's face.

"Bang!"

Both fists struck simultaneously. Da Long only managed to turn his head slightly, dodging a direct hit to the eye that would have left him looking like a panda. But Wang Zhuo’s dual punches slammed into his right eye socket and temple. The immense force snapped his head backward, twisting his body uncontrollably halfway around before he crumpled to the floor.

In front of so many witnesses, Wang Zhuo had no intention of wrestling with Da Long. This single strike utilized his full strength. Given the man's thick neck and developed muscles, death was unlikely, but the message would be clear. Da Long’s sudden change in tactics had momentarily surprised Wang Zhuo. Fortunately, he hadn't grown complacent and dropped his X-ray vision; otherwise, he would have fallen for Da Long’s trap and paid a price, even if he eventually won.

As soon as he stabilized his stance, a warning flared in his mind. His X-ray vision maintained a sliver of awareness, scanning the overall situation. At that moment, Wang Daming was swinging a length of iron pipe from behind. Wang Zhuo immediately tensed up! The alcohol had numbed his reaction time, and by the time he recognized the threat, it was too late to evade cleanly. A chill exploded across Wang Zhuo’s entire body. Without thinking, he tucked his head in, kicked both feet forward forcefully, and slammed directly into Wang Daming’s embrace. Thus, the seemingly sure-fire strike went wide, hitting nothing but air.

It was only then that Ning Yao and Ruan Mingqing cried out in alarm. Wang Daming’s ambush was truly insidious; he had hidden the pipe near his thigh, preventing the two women from spotting it in time to warn Wang Zhuo.

A whistling gust of air rushed past his face, forceful and swift. Wang Zhuo knew that a blow to the back of his head from that pipe would leave him crippled even if it didn't kill him. Gritting his teeth, he unleashed his power without restraint. He drove both elbows backward hard, striking the "nerves of pain" located on either side of Wang Daming's hips. With a muffled grunt, Wang Daming bent over, and the iron pipe clattered to the floor.

"Don't you dare run, you bastard!" Wang Zhuo slowly stood up, pointed at the pale-faced Tao Haitong and Tao Qian, and deliberately turned around. He pressed his left hand against Wang Daming’s forehead, tilting the man's face upward, then raised his right fist, shaking his wrist once before bringing it down!

"Smash!"

The punch landed squarely on Wang Daming’s nose bridge, instantly flattening it. Wang Daming staggered but somehow remained upright. Wang Zhuo had clamped down on his medium-length hair, preventing him from falling. Wang Daming gasped shallowly, mouth opening and closing uselessly. Wang Zhuo gave a cold, silent laugh, delivering two more rapid punches that transformed his face into a swollen mess.

The security guards clustered at a distance dared not approach. This man moved like a vengeful demon. He had already taken down a brute who was clearly a hired thug, and now he was pinning an even larger, stronger accomplice to his knees, raining down punch after punch onto his face. He acted as if he were alone, despite hundreds of eyes watching—this was no common brawl; this looked like the style of a triad operation!

After three blows, Wang Zhuo still hadn't vented his anger. Fighting was one thing, but this punk, Wang Daming, had aimed for a killing blow. Even his aunt and uncle couldn't tolerate that; this score would definitely be settled! Grabbing Wang Daming by the collar, Wang Zhuo lifted the 180-pound brute, then braced his shoulders with both hands and drove a knee strike into his stomach. He immediately shoved the man away and followed with a powerful kick to the outer side of his pelvis, sending the large man flying.

He had vented his frustration, but the hundreds of spectators were dumbfounded. What the hell was this act? Had the spirit of Bruce Lee possessed him? Was this a movie shoot? This guy dodged a calculated pipe attack aimed at the back of his head—was he a legendary martial arts master who could "hear the wind and discern the weapon," or perhaps someone with supernatural abilities, an extra eye growing on the back of his skull?

The hall, which had been dead silent, gradually began to stir. Some recognized the Tao brothers and realized that they had come to rough someone up, only to be utterly defeated by the target instead. Others recognized Ning Yao; the great film empress, clad in a deep crimson qipao, stood under the elevator lights. In her concern for Wang Zhuo’s safety, she had forgotten to put on her glasses. In front of such a crowd, it was impossible not to be identified.

Even a few people recognized Wang Zhuo. This sort of high-stakes venue often hosted influential figures—people who shuttled between major cities like Jiangzhou and Beijing as a matter of routine and held positions of importance in society. It was entirely plausible they had met Wang Zhuo or exchanged a few words.

"Ptooey."

Spitting onto the ground, Wang Zhuo glanced back toward the interior of the bar, flashed a wry smile at the hundreds of ticketless free spectators, and then turned toward the other side, winking at Ning Yao and Ruan Mingqing. Approaching the Tao brothers, whose expressions were now frozen masks of shock, Wang Zhuo smiled without warmth and pointed toward the restrooms not far behind them: "Let’s go talk over there. If you know what’s good for you, walk in yourselves. Don't make me do this in front of everyone."