171: Chapter 171 Voluntary Agreement

At three in the morning, the abandoned warehouse district in the Southern Suburbs of Kyoto was as silent as the grave, save for the occasional, desolate cry of a night owl.

But that was only the scene on the outside.

Inside the warehouse, things were currently in full swing, with dust flying everywhere.

"Cough, cough, cough... I can't do it anymore, my back is going to break..."

A rich young heir wearing a limited-edition Armani sat slumped on the dusty ground, completely abandoning his image. He used the broom in his hand like a crutch, looking as if he had just been fished out of water, his entire body drenched in sweat.

Beside him, the usually pampered daughters of wealthy families also had disheveled hair. Their originally exquisite makeup had long since smeared into panda eyes, and they were leaning against the wall, panting heavily without a care for their appearance.

Zhao Wujing's state was even more disastrous.

As the leader of this group, he received special attention from Lin Fan and was assigned the heaviest task: clearing the pile of rusted, discarded gears in the warehouse.

Each of those gears weighed over a hundred jin. Although he was a martial artist, he couldn't withstand such a sheer quantity.

He had been moving them for a full four hours!

By now, Zhao Wujing's tactical gloves, worth eighty-eight thousand, were long worn through. His ten fingers were trembling, and his two legs felt as if they were filled with lead, shaking uncontrollably.

"Lin... Lin Fan..."

Zhao Wujing looked at Lin Fan, who was sitting on a folding chair by the door, leisurely drinking goji berry tea from a thermos. If the fury in his eyes could take physical form, it would have burned Lin Fan to ashes long ago.

But he didn't dare.

That man's terrifying pressure still weighed on his heart like a giant boulder.

"Is it all done?"

Lin Fan set down the thermos and glanced at the Patek Philippe on his wrist—one he had stripped from Zhao Wujing's hand—and his eyebrows twitched slightly.

"3:15 AM. You're a full hour slower than I expected."

Lin Fan stood up and stretched, his bones letting out a series of crisp, crackling pops that sounded particularly jarring in the empty warehouse.

Hearing this sound, the rich heirs on the ground instinctively shrank their necks.

"Alright, stop playing dead. Get up for inspection."

Lin Fan walked slowly into the warehouse with his hands behind his back, looking like a picky landlord inspecting his laborers.

Although the young heirs were incredibly reluctant, they had no choice but to force their aching bodies up and follow behind Lin Fan, silently praying that this bringer of calamity would just nod and let them go.

Lin Fan walked very slowly, his sharp gaze looking for any excuse to find fault.

He walked to a windowsill and ran his finger across the frame.

"Here. There's still dust."

Lin Fan held up his finger, showing it to the young lady responsible for wiping the windows. "Is this how you wipe a window? Are you this perfunctory when you put on makeup?"

The young lady was so aggrieved that tears welled up in her eyes. "I... I already wiped it three times..."

"Then wipe it a fourth time."

Lin Fan's tone was flat, showing not the slightest bit of pity. "With me, there is no distinction between men and women, only whether the work is up to standard."

Next, he walked over to the pile of scrap metal Zhao Wujing was responsible for.

"It's not stacked neatly."

Lin Fan pointed at the pile of gears. "I wanted them categorized and stacked by size and model. What is this? A hodgepodge? Is this the standard of work for the Young Master of the Kyoto Zhao Family?"

"You!"

Zhao Wujing was so angry he nearly spat blood, his fists clenching until they cracked.

This was clearly intentional nitpicking!

This scrap metal was meant to be treated as trash anyway, yet it had to be categorized and stacked? This guy was freaking insane!

"What? Not satisfied?"

Lin Fan glanced at him sideways, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "If you're not satisfied, that's fine. As long as you can beat me, you can set the rules."

Zhao Wujing deflated instantly. Beat a Grandmaster? Maybe in his next life.

Under Lin Fan's harsh, nitpicking standards, this group of young masters and ladies—who usually never lifted a finger—were tortured for another full half-hour until those few blind spots were cleaned to a shine. Only then did Lin Fan finally show some mercy and nod.

"Fine. Although it's still a bit rough, considering your IQ and manual dexterity, this is the best we can expect."

Lin Fan clapped his hands, a look of "barely passing" disdain on his face.

Hearing those words, the heirs felt as if they were listening to heavenly music. Several of the more psychologically fragile ones slumped directly onto the ground and burst out crying.

Finally... it was finally over!

They had never suffered like this in their entire lives!

"Since we're done, can we go now?"

Zhao Wujing suppressed his humiliation and asked through gritted teeth. Right now, he just wanted to leave this hellhole, go home to complain to his father, and then bring people back to level this broken warehouse to the ground!

"What's the rush?"

Lin Fan pulled out his phone, opened the camera, and aimed it with a smile at the group of soot-covered, miserable-looking heirs.

"Come, come, everyone look at the camera."

"Today is the first day of the New Martial Arts Special Strategy Department's establishment, and it's also the day you all honorably labored as the first batch of off-staff volunteers. How can we not take a commemorative photo for such a meaningful moment?"

"Cheese!"

Flash!

The flash went off, and the image was frozen in time.

In the photo, the background was a dilapidated warehouse, and the subjects were a group of wealthy children wearing expensive clothes but covered in mud, their expressions looking worse than if they were crying.

Zhao Wujing stood right in the middle, the swollen handprint on his face clearly visible. His eyes held 30% confusion, 30% humiliation, and 40% utter despair.

If this photo were to get out, it would definitely provide the Kyoto upper-class circles with enough laughter to last a whole year.

"Not bad. Perfect composition, full of emotion."

Lin Fan looked at the photo on his phone and nodded with satisfaction. "I'll post this to my Moments. The title will be... 'Kyoto's Enthusiastic Citizens Performing Late-Night Voluntary Labor, a Truly Touching Sight.'"

"Lin Fan, don't you dare!"

Seeing that Lin Fan was actually going to post it, Zhao Wujing panicked. If his face-saving father saw this, he'd definitely break his legs!

"What wouldn't I dare?"

Lin Fan put away his phone, his smile instantly vanishing, replaced by a cold and mocking expression.

"Alright, the work is done, and the photo is taken."

Zhao Wujing took a deep breath and held out his hand. "Then give us back our car keys, as well as our phones and wallets!"

The other heirs also looked at Lin Fan expectantly.

Those sports cars were their lifeblood.

However.

Lin Fan looked at them as if they were idiots, pulled a handful of car keys from his pocket, and tossed them in his hand.

"Who said you could leave?"

Lin Fan stuffed the keys back into his pocket, folded his arms, and looked down at the naive group of heirs.

"That was just phase one: site clearing."

"This warehouse is so broken, can anyone live here? Of course it needs to be renovated."

Lin Fan pointed at the empty surroundings, his tone matter-of-fact.

"I hereby announce that phase two, the fine renovation project, will officially begin tomorrow morning at eight o'clock."

"Report here promptly at eight tomorrow morning."

"For every minute you're late..."

Lin Fan patted the pocket containing the phones, his gaze playful. "I'll print this high-definition, uncensored group photo into posters and stick them on your respective fathers' office doors."

"And while I'm at it, I'll send it to all the major media outlets in Kyoto so they can give your glorious deeds some good publicity."

Boom!

These words were like a bolt from the blue, striking everyone right on the crown of their heads.

They had to come back? And for renovation?

"You... this is kidnapping! This is extortion!"

Zhao Wujing completely broke down, pointing at Lin Fan and shouting hysterically, "I'm not doing it! I don't want the car anymore! I want to go home!"

"Go home?"

Lin Fan raised an eyebrow, looking at Zhao Wujing who was on the verge of going berserk, and the other heirs around him who seemed ready to join the rebellion.

"It seems you still haven't found your proper place."

Lin Fan sighed, seemingly disappointed by their lack of sense.

He flipped his wrist.

A fist-sized black canister with a skull-and-crossbones symbol appeared in his hand.

This wasn't some roadside toy; it was a C-grade blind box item he had previously pulled from the system: [Mutant Skunk's Biochemical Gas].

The description was simple: One hit to the soul; within a hundred-meter radius, it's indiscriminate against man or beast; specifically designed to treat all forms of defiance.

"Since you don't want to do this the easy way, I'll help you out."

Without another word, Lin Fan flicked his finger, pulled the pin, and casually tossed the canister at Zhao Wujing's feet.

Clink-clank.

The canister rolled twice on the ground and stopped by Zhao Wujing's foot.

Zhao Wujing froze for a moment, not yet realizing what it was.

Puff!

A thick, yellow-green fog, accompanied by a suffocating stench, instantly erupted from the canister!

Lin Fan had used this item before; the smell was still the same—like a hundred tons of rotten eggs, three-year-fermented canned herring, and a dozen pairs of stinky socks worn by burly men for a month, all dumped into a sealed cauldron and brought to a boil.

"Gag!"

Being the first to be hit, Zhao Wujing couldn't even last a second. His face instantly turned a sickly green, his eyes rolled back, and he opened his mouth and vomited.

"What is this... gag!"

"Help, I can't... gag!"

"My eyes! My eyes are burning!"

The heirs who had been thinking of resisting were instantly routed.

This simply wasn't a biochemical weapon that humans could endure!

The stench bored into their nostrils and shot straight to their brains, making them feel as if their very souls were being marinated in it.

In just over ten seconds, the warehouse entrance turned into a scene from purgatory.

A dozen or so usually glamorous young masters and ladies were now sprawled on the ground, vomiting until their bile came up, their faces covered in tears and snot.

Lin Fan had long since put on a gas mask to block the smell. Standing upwind, he held a stack of pre-printed A4 papers and watched the scene with a smile.

"How about it? Are you feeling a bit more clear-headed now?"

Lin Fan waved the papers in his hand. "This is the 'New Martial Arts Special Strategy Department Off-staff Personnel Voluntary Labor Agreement.' Sign it, and I'll neutralize the gas for you."

"I'll sign! I'll sign! Gag..."

Zhao Wujing crawled toward Lin Fan while vomiting, reaching out a trembling hand. "Give me a pen... quick... I'm going to die..."

Dignity and face were completely unimportant at this moment.

He just wanted to breathe a single breath of fresh air!

The other heirs also scrambled forward, competing to sign the agreement, terrified that a second's delay would mean being stunk to death by this foul gas.