"Brother Yi, Long Yi has already investigated. He told us to meet him at the Xinhua Hotel, saying Feng Shi is waiting for us there." Fatty Lin showed no hint of his usual easygoing smile; his face was entirely serious, the carefree demeanor entirely swept away, leaving only the desperate will to survive, a brand new self, adept at concealment.

Only Yang Yi was permitted to utter the name Yanran. Within the Black God Gang, everyone understood precisely who the Dragon Lord they trusted was. In a mere week, he had blooded the entire hierarchy of the gang. While 'brilliant leadership' might not fully capture it, he showed tendencies that far surpassed the old Dragon Lord Yang.

"Mm, I'll go there then!" Hearing that Yanran was waiting at the Xinhua Hotel, a wicked smile involuntarily curved Yang Yi's lips. His old rogue nature seemed to surface unintentionally. Now that he had mastered the art of hiding himself, he had also learned to enjoy life.

In the Cave of the Dead, Yang Yi had learned too much, countless things. Otherwise, he wouldn't now feel that his so-called 'rogue dreams' were nothing more than armchair theory, utterly incapable of suppressing those with powerful backing. He had once imagined carving out some minor success, but now he found that previous ambition laughably childish at a fundamental level.

Therefore, he was now learning to try and change, to alter that essential orientation, to change the way he dreamt. Until he possessed truly formidable strength, everything else was just children playing with mud.

"Fatty, today in class, how many did you notice?" Yang Yi asked as they walked.

"Three," a shadow that didn't belong on Fatty Lin's round face flickered for a moment.

"Mm, I see you've learned quite a bit too. Remember to judge people sharply, or you'll sow seeds of future trouble," Yang Yi said coolly.

"Hahaha, Brother Yi, though I’ve changed a lot, my taste hasn't shifted, hehe!" Fatty Lin’s normally serious face broke into the smile that should have been there—no... to be precise, it was a grin.

"Haha, Fatty, you good-for-nothing. And you have the nerve to say that, considering how pathetic you looked today. Just one Li Qian nearly made you fall apart. I tell you, from now on, you need to learn from your boss," the other man said with exaggerated self-satisfaction.

"Yes, Brother Yi," Fatty Lin replied with a slight smile, pausing before a strange light flashed in his eyes. He chuckled, "Brother Yi, it seems certain people are here because of Li Qian today."

"Oh really?" Yang Yi smirked deliberately, a hint of playful amusement lingering on his lips. "Fatty, six people. Do you need me to make a move?"

"No need for you to move, Brother Yi. I can take them down with one hand," Fatty Lin declared with apparent confidence.

Indeed, if not now, then when?

A group of people deliberately looking for trouble—no matter how much talking occurred, a fight was inevitable. Thus, Yang Yi dismissed these pointless pleasantries, casually glancing at the six figures slowly encircling the two of them, and smiled: "Might I ask what your intentions are, sirs?"

"Stop playing dumb. If you want to live, obediently call us 'Master,' otherwise..." one of the six men boasted arrogantly.

This was hardly surprising. Yang Yi and his group hadn't been in City A long, and they had deliberately vanished for over a month. They hadn't made many enemies, just that 'Owl' gang perhaps, and whatever this situation was. But the source of this trouble, orchestrated by the Daoist-nosed man, was likely this very matter, as these thugs had followed them from school. They only waited for the right opportunity and location.

Who were Yang Yi and the others? They possessed some awareness, but having only a few underlings trail them felt almost like an invitation to play a game. "If you want to live?"

"Hahaha, hah hah..." Yang Yi wasn't sure if he was laughing or mocking himself. His face was etched with world-weariness. He had heard that phrase often in a certain place long ago, and an aura of chilling cold instantly spread outward.

Fatty Lin felt the shift in Yang Yi and shuddered. Despite the shock, he stepped forward and declared, "Come on, you clowns. I'll let you know what it means to be 'Master.'"

These men truly were clowns. Those who mixed in the underworld were either sinister and venomous or acutely judgmental of others. Dressed in tattered, trendy rags and puffing on cigarettes, they imagined themselves aloof, but they were utterly oblivious to how fragile, ignorant, and contemptible they truly were.

"Go! The boss said if we cripple them today, we head to the old spot tonight for some fun." The thugs grew bolder, especially after hearing their leader speak, and they grinned wickedly.

Yang Yi watched with cold eyes, not taking these men seriously in the slightest. Having been steeped from childhood in the 'Beauties' Scroll,' men in his eyes were categorized only as friends, brothers, family, or women. Beyond those roles, he held no interest in entanglements. If they were enemies, he would expend every ounce of his strength to bring them down.

These men were clearly from the streets, so there was nothing more to discuss.

Fatty Lin wasn't sure if he was the same as Yang Yi, but he was certain that following Yang Yi was the glory of his entire life—that was the sentiment of a brother beside Yang Yi. He moved like wind over clouds, completely unafraid despite the insignificant weapons the opponents held.

"Bang—!" A baseball bat swung by one of the troublemakers struck Fatty Lin, but the one who got hurt was the thug himself. It felt as if he had merely battered his own hand. The moment he swung the bat, a burning, searing pain shot up his grip. It felt less like striking flesh and more like hitting a steel plate, jarring the bat right back into him.

"Hmph—!" Fatty Lin snorted. In the Cave of the Dead, he had pushed his physical limits relentlessly, striving to make his body indomitable, impervious to blades and bullets. This was not a dream, nor impossible; within the vast nation of China, the refinement of martial arts was unparalleled.

With a set of bizarre and profound techniques, his Finger Flick skill rendered all their flimsy weapons useless junk. In an instant, the thugs stood wide-eyed, feeling their hands go suddenly loose as if the baseball bats no longer belonged to them. Fatty Lin showed them no sympathy, no pity. His attack was fluid, and in less than three moves, the thugs were screaming in agony on the ground.

"Get out... Go back and tell whoever sent you: if you want to live a few more days, don't cross me," Yang Yi commanded coldly, casting a disdainful glance at them before walking away.

Hearing Yang Yi's words, a chill ran down the spines of the thugs. Though they couldn't pinpoint why, a genuine fear welled up inside them. Those in the underworld without strength forever remained at the lowly bottom rung, while those with power stood above, issuing commands. Regardless of whether they were spoiled rich kids or street thugs, the only thing that mattered was strength. Strength represented everything.