Yang Yunrong

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“He’s the one?”

Pushing the door open, Zhao Dai’s anger instantly turned to dread. He had thought the troublemaker was some arrogant scion of a wealthy family—he was already imagining how to put the brat in his place and send him packing in disgrace. He never expected the one stirring up trouble outside would be this uncontrollable tyrant, someone no one dared provoke.

The Yang family kept a low profile; few had ever seen them in person, and to most people, they existed only as a legend. But for Yidao Group, obtaining photos of the Yang family’s main members was not difficult. Every senior manager in the company kept a dossier on the key Yangs.

Standing before him was the second son of the current Yang family head—Yang Yunrong. Twenty-five years old, he was head of the Mecha Division, the core department of the Giant Machinery Group.

It was said that the Yang family produced either geniuses or madmen, with every generation bringing forth dazzling individuals. Yet Yang Yunrong was a fusion of both—a genius and a madman. Entrusted with great responsibility at such a young age, by twenty-five he was already heading a key department. If he lacked true talent, the Yangs would never have placed him in such a position. If it was mere nepotism, the Giant Machinery Group would not have thrived for centuries, nor would Zhao Dai’s own boss be so wary of them.

Yang Yunrong was not as low-key as the rest of his family. Perhaps due to early success, he was infamous for being difficult—no one, not even the most powerful, could cross his path without being humiliated.

Just three months ago, for instance, the mayor of Mingzhou happened to stay overnight in the same suite at the Pearl Hotel that Yang Yunrong often used. That night, both men showed up, and a confrontation was inevitable. It was said that Yang Yunrong lost his temper on the spot, kicked the mayor out, and then had his men demolish the entire room.

“That fat pig dirtied the place. Tear it down and build it again,” Yang Yunrong had declared.

To treat a city mayor with such utter disregard—what arrogance.

Remembering this, Zhao Dai felt a chill. They were not on the same level at all. He was merely a manager in Yidao Group’s Security Department; the status of Yang’s second son alone could crush him.

Wasn’t he just a lamb to the slaughter?

Still, he had no choice but to press on. His head could be broken, blood could be shed, but his pride could not be lost.

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“So it’s Manager Yang.” Zhao Dai, ever composed and shrewd, managed the perfect touch of surprise on his face. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

His tone, almost gentle, left the onlookers stunned. Yidao Group might not be domineering, but there was always a sharp edge to their dealings. Never had anyone seen them address trouble with such civility.

Who exactly was this young man? For a moment, everyone secretly speculated.

Yang Yunrong produced a sky-blue handkerchief, wiped his hands, and without so much as a glance at Zhao Dai, said, “Finally, someone worth talking to.”

“Please, Manager Yang, let’s not stand in the doorway. Come inside,” Zhao Dai said, making a polite gesture, his expression neither servile nor overbearing.

Yang Yunrong stepped inside. He disliked being gawked at like an animal.

“Second Young Master Yang.”

Just then, someone called out from the crowd. He turned toward the voice, surprised. “It’s you?”

“What a coincidence.” Fei Yingming approached with a smile. “Here on business in Davao as well?”

Yang Yunrong nodded. He had no strong feelings about Fei Yingming—neither fondness nor dislike—but running into a familiar face here was, perhaps, fate.

Amid the envious looks of his companions, Fei Yingming followed Yang Yunrong into the room.

The Fei family was a giant in the steel industry, perfectly complementing the Giant Machinery Group’s business. The two companies had always been partners, and the families got along well.

But Fei Yingming’s address, “Second Young Master Yang,” sparked endless speculation among the onlookers. With the surname Yang, the title “Second Young Master,” and the ability to make Yidao Group yield—there could only be one person.

“What is he doing here?” Fei Yingming froze in shock at the sight of Zhong Yun sitting casually on the sofa. He would never have expected Zhong Yun to appear in a place like this. With Zhong Yun’s background, he shouldn’t have been here at all.

Yang Yunrong sat opposite Zhong Yun, scrutinizing him from head to toe, then asked nonchalantly, “You’re Zhong Yun?”

Zhong Yun found this pretty boy in front of him oddly familiar. Noticing the way Yang stared at him, his annoyance grew. Hearing that condescending tone pushed his irritation to the limit.

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Zhong Yun did not bother to answer. Instead, he looked at Zhao Dai, who was doing his best to remain composed.

“I don’t like you,” Yang Yunrong said matter-of-factly. “But for my sister’s sake, I’ve deigned to meet you.”

Cold sweat broke out on Zhao Dai’s forehead. So the young master was here for Zhong Yun. He hastily said, “Manager Yang, Mr. Zhong is a guest our chairman specifically requested to see.”

“He’s my guest now,” Yang Yunrong replied as if it were obvious.

“But…” Zhao Dai was unwilling to concede, still trying to resist.

“If you have any complaints, tell Zhao Tingjian to speak to me himself,” Yang Yunrong said, brooking no argument.

Zhao Dai’s face went from pale to flushed and back again. He clenched his fists, released them, clenched them again, and finally, in a hoarse voice, said, “Then please entertain Mr. Zhong well, Manager Yang. I’ll inform the chairman of your kindness.” With that, he turned and left.

Outside, the crowd was still abuzz with low murmurs. Seeing Zhao Dai’s stormy expression as he led his men away in silence, everyone realized Yidao Group had lost this round.

Their suspicions were now confirmed. In Davao, the number of people who could make Yidao Group yield could be counted on one hand.

Inside the room, Fei Yingming was completely stunned. Zhong Yun was the guest Zhao Tingjian had specifically requested? Zhao Tingjian was a man who could stand on equal footing with Fei Yingming’s own grandfather.

But who was Zhong Yun? An ordinary nobody, widely considered a useless fool. There was no way Zhao Tingjian should know such a person.

Even more shocking was that Yang Yunrong, judging by his words, had also come here because of Zhong Yun. For this, he was willing to offend Zhao Tingjian—a heavyweight rival.

For more than a decade, Giant Machinery and Yidao Group had competed in the open and in the shadows, yet both sides exercised restraint and even cooperated in business at times. Their core interests did not clash; Zhao Tingjian was clever and had never meddled in mechanical manufacturing’s most crucial areas. There was no reason for a fight to the death.

Fei Yingming knew well the rules by which the powerful played. They would never make enemies of strong opponents over a matter of pride. For them, profit always came first.

Yet today, Yang Yunrong seemed determined to break that rule. For the sake of Zhong Yun—a complete nobody—he was willing to risk a feud with Zhao Tingjian, a formidable adversary.

Had he lost his mind?