Exile

At the same time, at the airport on the eastern outskirts of Mingzhou City, more than a dozen luxurious black hovercars appeared at the entrance, instantly drawing the attention of onlookers. People wondered which important figure had arrived.

Those with keener eyes caught sight of the license plates and quickly moved away, thinking to themselves that trouble had come.

The door of the central car opened, and first stepped out two bodyguards, nearly two meters tall, broad-shouldered and imposing, wearing dark sunglasses. They surveyed the surroundings with sharp vigilance before stepping aside.

A middle-aged man with a pale complexion and gold-rimmed glasses emerged. His face was overcast, his brow furrowed with anxiety and concern.

From each of the other vehicles, two more men with the bearing of bodyguards exited, forming a group of around thirty who surrounded the middle-aged man at the center.

An airport staff member had been waiting at the entrance, nervously rubbing his hands, inwardly cursing his luck for being assigned such a task. When he saw the group approaching, he hurried forward. "Mr. Niu, you've arrived," he said, but was immediately blocked by two bodyguards whose intimidating presence made him tremble in fear.

"M-Mr. Niu... I... I'm with the airport staff..." he stammered, nearly in tears from fright.

With a wave of his hand, the middle-aged man signaled the bodyguards to step aside, though their eyes remained fixed on the staff member, ready to restrain him at the slightest suspicious move.

"Where is my son?" the man asked, his voice hoarse.

"I'll take you to him right away," the staff member replied, wishing he could escape yet forced to stay and carefully attend to this formidable figure, terrified of provoking his wrath.

He led the way as the entourage swept grandly through the airport. Once they were gone, the onlookers burst into hushed speculation, trying to guess the identity of the middle-aged man. Yet no one could say for certain. He seldom appeared in public; most had only heard of him, and those who recognized him dared not speak out, fearing trouble for themselves.

Inside a newly prepared room, a tall young man lay on a bed at the center. The moment he saw the middle-aged man enter, he cried out excitedly, "Dad..."

"My boy," the man hurried to his side, carefully examining him. Only after confirming his son was not seriously harmed did he finally relax his tense nerves.

"Dad... You have to avenge me," the young man pleaded, clinging to his only pillar of support. The thought of that hateful face filled him with fury.

The young man lying on the bed was Niu Ben, whose bones had been broken by Zhong Yun, and the middle-aged man was none other than Mingzhou's underground kingpin, Niu Shunjin.

A cold, vicious glint flashed in Niu Shunjin's eyes. "Let's go home first and tend to your wounds," he said.

When Niu Ben realized his father intended to let their enemy go, he grew agitated. "Dad—" But the stern look in his father's eyes silenced him, forcing him to bury his head and seethe in frustration.

Niu Shunjin gazed at his only son with a complex expression and let out a silent sigh. For all his years as a formidable force, his son had turned out so disappointing—perhaps it was his own indulgence that had caused it.

He knew he had made too many enemies. While he lived, others dared not act against his son, but once he was gone, he had no illusions they would show mercy.

In search of a protective talisman for his son, he had sent him to the side of the Yang family’s princess, hoping to forge a connection for future security.

Now, he realized that had been the gravest error. His son had been foolish enough to try to harm the Yang family’s princess—an outcome he could never have anticipated.

When he heard the news, his shock and disappointment were beyond description. In that moment, he was truly grateful to the student named Zhong Yun; if not for him, he might only have seen his son’s corpse.

He had rushed to the Yangs’ residence to apologize, only to be turned away at the door. The gatekeeper’s cold, corpse-like stare left him chilled to the bone.

For all his power, Niu Shunjin was little more than a ripple-maker in Mingzhou’s small pond, while the Yangs were true dragons of the sea, wielding unrivaled influence.

No one understood better than he the might of the Yang family. To them, he was but an ant they could crush with a flick of a finger.

He had weathered countless storms in his lifetime and knew this was a matter of life and death. Even if all resistance was in vain, he had to grasp at a sliver of hope.

He waited outside the Yang family’s gates for five days and nights before finally receiving a single message: "Don’t let us see your son again."

He left, expressing endless gratitude, and thus a catastrophe that could have wiped out his family was averted.

Since his wife’s death, his son was all he had left, the only family he could depend on. Now, having to send him away, he felt a pang of reluctance.

But for his son’s safety, sending him away was the only choice.

"Dad, where are we going?" Niu Ben asked, sensing something amiss as they boarded another plane.

"We’re going to Daal, where the medical facilities are better. I don’t want any lasting harm to your body," Niu Shunjin reassured him.

Niu Ben relaxed, glancing back at the slowly closing hatch. Zhong Yun, just wait—I’ll be back.

Yet he did not know that when he and Zhong Yun met again, the balance of power between them would have utterly transformed.

In the underground garage of the Mingzhou Sports Car Club, Zhong Yun helped a trembling young hostess out of the car.

"Are you all right?" he asked, glancing at her hips and suppressing a smile at the large wet stain there. She had finally lost control when the car reached 400 kilometers per hour, succumbing to her fear.

Fortunately, Zhong Yun had noticed in time and quickly slowed down, steering into a side entrance and back to the garage, averting an even greater embarrassment.

Suddenly, the hostess clapped a hand over her mouth, pushed Zhong Yun aside, staggered a few steps, and bent over in a corner to vomit.

Zhong Yun went over to gently pat her back and only after she finished vomiting did he help her up and lead her toward the elevator. Throughout, she remained silent.

Feeling guilty, Zhong Yun was about to apologize when a flock of young women swarmed over, whisking the hostess from his arms.

"What did you do to her?" one woman demanded, arms akimbo, her expression icy enough to cut.

"I…" Surrounded by a dozen beautiful women, each glaring furiously at him, Zhong Yun broke into a cold sweat, unable to speak coherently.

"I what? Shameless man, always bullying women…"

"Filthy man, tell us—what did you do to Yingying?"

"…"

A chorus of angry women surrounded Zhong Yun, berating him from all sides. Tongue-tied, he had no idea how to explain.

Finally, the lobby manager came to his rescue.

In the end, Zhong Yun fled in embarrassment, unable to face this pack of tigresses.

Yingying, the hostess being supported by her friends, saw his flustered retreat and a faint smile appeared on her face. Serves you right for making me look bad, she thought. The memory of her accident in front of this man made her want to find a hole and hide in it.

PS: Over a hundred thousand words now—please vote for recommendations.