"Hmmph?" Yang Yi let out a low sound, smiling faintly, "What, are you prejudiced against hooligans?"

Chen Bo and Zhou Pangpang exchanged a look, seeming to understand each other's meaning, and nodded to one another, "We apologize; what happened earlier was rude!"

Stunned. Yes, this time it wasn't just Fatty Lin and the others who were stunned; even Yang Yi was surprised. But the most utterly bewildered person was undoubtedly Long Tian. In the eyes of normal people, these privileged young masters were invariably haughty and arrogant, with absolutely no chance of lowering their heads to apologize to someone.

But this time, he witnessed something unprecedented, especially given the serious expressions on Zhou Pangpang and Chen Bo's faces. Even when apologizing, one would usually plan for retribution later, right? Yet, this time felt distinctly different.

"Let's go!" Chen Bo said with a somber expression, and he and Zhou Pangpang left the scene.

Consequently, Yang Yi made no move to stop them, but for some inexplicable reason, a chill ran through him. Even if they were willing to apologize, would someone like Yang Yi let them off so easily?

What is the tenet of a hooligan? If others do not offend me, I will not offend them; if they dare to offend me, I will repay them a hundredfold. Those who tease my woman will suffer crippling injuries at best, death at worst.

Although Yang Yi didn't have the immediate desire to torture them to death, it was better safe than sorry. Moreover, even though the two men had momentarily adopted an air of extreme politeness, who knew what machinations they might concoct behind his back? Troubles always needed to be rooted out completely.

"It looks like those two young masters are in for bad luck," Fatty Lin thought to himself.

However, his thought was only half correct. While Yang Yi currently harbored no intention of killing them and harbored extreme disdain toward the pair, he hadn't planned to trouble them yet. After all, tonight, here, he had noticed a few things. He had once heard of a mysterious organization in Huaxia, and seeing them today made him feel a flicker of interest.

"Heh heh~~~ I didn't expect those two young masters to back down just because His Excellency, the Dragon Lord, admitted to being a hooligan!" Long Tian's tone held a mixture of praise and sarcasm.

Upon hearing this, Yang Yi simply smiled, utterly unconcerned by the remark. A hooligan? He certainly was, and moreover, he intended to be the king among hooligans. If he cared about such a label, how could he possibly maintain his standing?

"Pangpang, look at that man? Since he's a hooligan and also called the Dragon Lord, that title—'Dragon Lord'—why does it sound so familiar to me?" Chen Bo asked.

"Yeah, I think so too. That title, 'Dragon Lord'..." Zhou Pangpang frowned deeply. After a pause, he stated, "Long Tian is the leader of the Dragon Gang, yet he showed such deference to that kid. He must have some significant background."

"How about this, I’ll make a call to inquire," Chen Bo suggested.

"En!"

"Damn it, if that kid has some backing, then those two beauties might be—!"

"It's hard to say. If his background is low, we can still snatch them, hehe." Zhou Pangpang’s chubby cheeks trembled, and his grin was utterly repulsive. If you happened to be eating or drinking near him at that moment, you’d better be prepared to spit out your food or water.

Yang Yi calmed his mind, his gaze drifting unintentionally toward the two individuals who had piqued his interest. Before he could even think of heading toward the piano, Long Tian's voice rang out, "I wonder if His Excellency, the Dragon Lord, would be willing to grace us with a musical piece?"

"Why wouldn't I oblige?" Yang Yi smiled faintly, then slowly rose and walked toward the grand piano.

Xuan Yuanbing, standing nearby, suddenly asked Feng Shi, "Does Yi know how to play the piano?"

"That, I don't know. I once heard the Young Master play when he was in high school." Feng Shi replied.

"Ah, then...!"

"Heh heh, don't you worry. Just enjoy Brother Yi's music. Opportunities to hear him play the piano are rare," Fatty Lin whispered, his eyes glancing toward Long Tian with suppressed amusement. Heaven knew what this fellow was plotting.

Simultaneously, as Yang Yi ascended the piano stage, almost no one paid attention. He exchanged a brief greeting with the middle-aged foreigner dressed in a black tuxedo and then took his seat!

"The piano is the monarch among instruments. It can express myriad melodies, complementing all manner of tones. Among all musical instruments, its construction is the most complex. Back in the day, Beethoven poured considerable effort into shaping this piano. A master musician created this perfect instrument but never had the fortune to play it himself. Today, I have this destiny; it is a rare blessing indeed!!!"

Yang Yi muttered this softly to himself, then his hands swiftly swept across the keys, producing a cascade of sounds—"Deng deng deng deng!"

A scattering of notes rang out, crisp and precise in their rhythm. While no one had been paying attention to him moments before, he took a deep breath. He loved immersion; he loved dedicating his entire being to the act of playing the piano. Thus, during that breath, he closed his eyes, settled his feet, and positioned his hands.

The first note was joy, the second was sorrow, the third was hatred, the fourth note...

Note after note sprang forth from Yang Yi's hands, dancing out into the room. The crowd, who had been dancing and drinking, couldn't help but furrow their brows. It wasn't because Yang Yi had begun playing; it was because he was striking the keys one note at a time, each sound appearing independent, sounding nothing like a coherent piece of music.

"Damn, does this kid even know how to play? How can he produce such an ugly piano sound?" Zhou Pangpang had been slightly surprised when he saw Yang Yi approach the piano, but as the sounds emerged, he cursed under his breath with undisguised contempt.

It wasn't just him; the other dancers felt the same way. They had been intoxicated by the romantic ambiance of the music, but these jarring sounds instantly shattered the mood, causing their expressions to sour.

"Yi!" Xuan Yuanbing murmured softly, clearly showing a touch of worry.

"Hey! Can you play or not? If you can't, get off and stop ruining the atmosphere," a young man pointed at Yang Yi and said.

"Yeah, young man, if you can't play, step down and stop embarrassing yourself," a middle-aged man said, rubbing his fingers. He truly couldn't offer any compliments for those notes.

"Heh heh, is this the piano music of your Dragon Lord? Why has it stirred up such widespread anger?" Long Tian’s intensely sarcastic words nearly enraged Xuan Yuanbing to the point of action, but Feng Shi stopped her.

"Trust the Young Master; nothing will go wrong," Feng Shi assured her.

"Hmph!" Xuan Yuanbing scoffed, sending a wave of cold air through the vicinity, causing those who had been observing her to narrow their eyes with chilling intent.

"The heavens are vast and absolute, achieving the impossible; the music of the spheres, from whence does harmony arise?" Yang Yi opened his eyes, glanced at the increasingly impatient crowd, mumbled under his breath, and then closed his eyes again.

The previously measured notes suddenly accelerated. A piece of music, whose title was unknown, began to pour forth relentlessly from his hands.

The sword drawn unleashes killing intent, Wind rises on a moonless battlefield, Through ten thousand armies, he charges alone, A hero of boundless courage. Love between man and woman, Accounts from a past life, Your smile, how can I forget while alive? The tears of a beauty cause heartbreak, This beauty's sting can claim a life. A farewell poem, Two or three lines, Written upon the path of the spring rains in March. If I could still walk beside you holding an umbrella, A farewell poem, Two or three lines, Who will sing for me on the road to the netherworld? If I could die by your side, It would not have been in vain, this journey in the mortal realm...

This piece was the 'Farewell Poem,' which Yang Yi had chanced upon hearing before. Today, he was rendering it on the piano, the mood utterly unique—with peaks and valleys, highs and lows, encompassing love, hate, passion, and the feeling of commanding armies on the battlefield.

Although most people present had likely heard this song before, they had certainly never heard it played on a piano. Instantly, the initially impatient crowd grew deeply melancholy, leaning on their partners, closing their eyes, and subtly swaying their steps.

Those most profoundly affected were undoubtedly the women. Such a poem carried immense impact for them, reminding them of their beloveds, stirring memories of their own love stories.

And as for the men, there was no need to elaborate; a gentle softness shone in their eyes, unconsciously spreading across their brows. Men have always been sentimental; heroes have always found it hard to resist the charms of beautiful women. This piece seemed to make their very souls resonate.

"Damn it, Yi Ge's piano skills..." Fatty Lin was utterly astonished. Had he seen Yang Yi play somewhere before? In childhood? Or in high school? No, more precisely, he remembered seeing him when Yang Yi had first flipped through that piano book.

"In ancient times, three melodies calmed the spirit; today, one piece stirs the soul. This young one's piano mastery is extraordinary," an old man said, sipping his red wine with a gentle smile.

"Tonight, this place is filled with many masters, spanning various statuses. The most noteworthy are the espers and several ancient martial artists belonging to the state. Why is he causing such a spectacle? Isn't he afraid of attracting their attention?" A white-haired old man hidden in the shadows watched Yang Yi with a calm, profound look, his brow etched with confusion.

While he admitted that the current melody was indeed captivating, this display was far too ostentatious. Wasn't Yang Yi afraid of provoking trouble with others before even engaging in conflict with the Dragon Gang, potentially leading to defeat?

Completely lost in the beauty of the music, Yang Yi cast aside such concerns and continued to play with an intoxicated expression. The movements of his hands grew faster and faster, especially the pitch, which seemed to directly stimulate the eardrums, causing the dancers to cling ever tighter to their partners, as if they feared they might never have another chance to embrace them again.