112: Night Market Dispute: Tenfold Compensation

The night breeze of the night market, carrying the scent of cumin from grilled skewers and the noisy music of cheap speakers, blew through the streets of White Stone Islet. However, this slight breeze could not disperse the tense atmosphere in front of Chen Yun's stall at all.

The triangular eyes of the tall and thin "Brother Biao" scraped over Chen Yun's curvaceous figure and Lin Xiaocao's pure face like greasy putty. The lackeys behind him also let out filthy laughter.

"Newcomers? Quite pretty," Brother Biao said, exhaling a puff of smoke that blew onto Chen Yun's face. "Do you know the rules? This territory is covered by our Scorpion Gang. Every month, it's this much."

He held up five fingers.

Chen Yun's face darkened. She took a step forward, shielding Lin Xiaocao behind her, and said coldly, "We are a small business; we can't afford to pay."

"Can't afford to pay?" Brother Biao laughed, the fat on his face shaking. "If you can't afford to pay, you can use other things as collateral."

He reached out his hand, moving to touch Chen Yun's face.

Chen Yun turned her head in disgust to avoid him.

Lin Xiaocao was so scared that she tightly grabbed the corner of Chen Yun's clothes, her body trembling slightly.

"Don't touch my family's things."

A muffled voice came from behind the stall.

Everyone looked toward the sound.

They saw Wang Fugui squatting on the ground, holding a large enamel lunchbox, shoveling rice into his mouth with a loud slurping sound. A thick layer of braised meat covered the rice. This was already his third box.

He didn't even look up, just calmly repeated the sentence. The voice wasn't loud, but it was like a stone thrown into the noisy night market.

Brother Biao's movement froze in mid-air, and his face instantly turned ashen.

In this territory, no one had ever dared to speak to him in such a tone.

"Fuck! Who the hell do you think you're talking to!"

He was completely enraged and suddenly kicked the iron rack filled with clothes!

"Crash—!"

The entire clothes rack collapsed with a roar, and seven or eight brand-new, freshly ironed clothes were scattered across the ground. Brother Biao wasn't satisfied yet; he raised his dirty leather shoes, covered in mud and water, and stomped hard on a white T-shirt, leaving a clear black footprint.

"My heart aches!" Chen Yun let out a cry of alarm. It wasn't fear, but the heartache of seeing hard-earned money go down the drain.

"Slurp..."

The sound of eating stopped.

Wang Fugui put down the lunchbox. His movements were very slow, one could even say cautious.

Then, he slowly stood up.

Standing over 1.9 meters tall, with muscles stretched against his black T-shirt like armor, he cast a huge shadow under the dim yellow streetlights, instantly enveloping Brother Biao and his lackeys.

An invisible sense of pressure made the surrounding air feel as if it had solidified.

Brother Biao subconsciously took half a step back, but seeing the gazes of the people around him, a surge of wicked anger rushed to his head. He suddenly pulled something from his waist, and with a crisp "click," a glinting Switchblade popped out.

"Ah!" The surrounding pedestrians and customers let out screams and retreated one after another, instantly clearing a large area.

"Kneel down for me! Otherwise, I'll draw some blood from you today!" Brother Biao roared with blustering courage, pointing the tip of the knife at Wang Fugui's chest.

Wang Fugui looked at the swaying tip of the knife, expressionless.

He moved.

No dodging, no blocking.

He simply met the tip of the knife and reached out his right hand.

Brother Biao grinned savagely, exerted force with his wrist, and stabbed forward fiercely! He seemed to already see the Silly Big Guy in front of him being skewered, clutching his wound and screaming as he fell to the ground.

However, the imagined scene did not occur.

Under everyone's horrified gazes, Wang Fugui directly used his palm to grab the sharp blade.

There was no blood.

There was no wound.

His hand was like an iron clamp, firmly locking the knife in place.

Brother Biao was stunned. He tried his best to pull the knife back, only to find that it seemed welded into the other man's hand, not moving an inch.

This... is this a human hand?

The next second, an even more terrifying scene occurred.

Wang Fugui's hand holding the blade slowly tightened its fingers.

"Creak... crunch..."

A tooth-aching sound of metal twisting rang out.

The Switchblade, made of fine steel and capable of piercing a human body, was forced into a bend between his fingers like a noodle.

"Snap!"

With a crisp sound, the blade snapped in half.

Wang Fugui released his hand, and the half-piece of scrap metal fell to the ground with a clear "clatter."

The entire night market fell into a deathly silence.

Everyone seemed to have been hit by a freezing spell, staring blankly at the scene, their minds completely blank.

The savage grin on Brother Biao's face had long since frozen, replaced by extreme terror. His mouth was open wide enough to fit an egg, and a wheezing sound came from his throat. At his crotch, a foul-smelling liquid quickly soaked his pant leg.

Wang Fugui didn't even spare him a glance. He just leaned over, picked up the dirty white T-shirt from the ground, and patted off the dust.

Then, he looked up. His clear eyes, now as calm as a bottomless ancient well, quietly looked at Brother Biao.

"Compensate."

Two simple words, devoid of any emotion.

Before Brother Biao could react from his terror, he felt his collar tighten as an irresistible force took hold.

His body, weighing over 130 pounds, was lifted off the ground by Wang Fugui with one hand like a little chick.

"Ah—!"

Brother Biao let out a scream like a slaughtered pig.

Wang Fugui swung his arm and lifted the man over his head.

"Whoosh—"

Under countless horrified gazes, Brother Biao was thrown like a bag of trash, tracing a parabolic arc of over ten meters. With a loud "splash," he landed precisely in the foul-smelling drainage ditch by the roadside.

Water splashed everywhere, and a pungent stench filled the air.

Brother Biao thrashed twice in the foul water, choked on a few mouthfuls of black liquid, and passed out immediately.

The remaining three lackeys' legs shook like sieves, and they turned to run.

"Stop."

Wang Fugui's voice was still calm.

But the three lackeys seemed to be under a spell. Their legs went weak, and with a "thud," they all knelt on the ground together, kowtowing like they were pounding garlic.

"Bi... Big Brother, have mercy! Big Brother, have mercy!"

Wang Fugui ignored their pleas for mercy and simply pointed to the dirty T-shirt on the ground.

"This shirt sells for thirty-five," he said word by word. "It's dirty now. Compensate tenfold. Three hundred and fifty."

"We'll pay! We'll pay!"

One lackey tremblingly pulled out all the money from his pocket—a dozen or so crumpled bills. The others also hurriedly pulled out theirs. In the end, the three of them put together just over a hundred yuan.

"Not enough." Wang Fugui looked at them.

The lackey was on the verge of tears. Gritting his teeth, he pulled off the fake Rolex he had just bought from his wrist and then reached for the gold chain around another companion's neck.

"Big Brother! It's all here! Please, show mercy!"

Chen Yun stepped forward and took the pile of change and junk jewelry from their hands. Without looking, she stuffed them directly into her pocket. She looked at Wang Fugui's broad back, her eyes filled with unprecedented brightness and infatuation.

This man was hers.

Wang Fugui waved his hand as if shooing away flies.

The three lackeys felt as if they had been granted a grand amnesty. They scrambled to the ditch to fish out their unconscious boss and vanished miserably into the night.

The surrounding stall owners and passersby looked at Wang Fugui and the others with completely changed expressions.

It was a complex gaze mixed with awe, fear, and... a hint of envy...