Chapter 18: Collecting the Debt

The suffocating sensation surged through Huang Ting like a tide, accompanied by a paralyzing fear of death. Her instinct to survive overwhelmed everything else—she struggled desperately, but the more she moved, the tighter the rope constricted, intensifying her agony. "You... all of you..." Huang Ting’s eyes bulged, bloodshot and wild, her purple-red, asphyxiated face distorted beyond recognition.

The reporters stood frozen in shock. What kind of scene was this? The plan was only to scare her a little, not to actually go through with it.

"We’re coming!" The reporters rushed over in a fluster, hastily untying Huang Ting and lowering her to the ground.

She collapsed, limbs limp, clutching her throat and gasping for air, not daring to look at Ling Tian, terrified that he might hang her up again.

While the reporters scrambled to rescue Huang Ting, their cameras and recorders were scattered all over the ground. Ling Tian collected them one by one and set them beside the old director. "These will make good toys for the children," he said. "Who knows, maybe our orphanage will produce a few famous photographers."

Having witnessed Ling Tian’s ferocity, none of the reporters dared to object. They could only watch helplessly as he confiscated their expensive equipment, tears streaming down their faces. Each item was worth tens of thousands, and now they were to become playthings for children.

"What a shame—the hanging failed. Are you disappointed? Shall I help you try again?" With a look of sincere concern, Ling Tian approached Huang Ting.

Try again?

Having already tasted that terror, Huang Ting would rather die than experience it a second time. She shook her head vigorously, edging away from Ling Tian as much as she could.

"If you don’t want to play, then get the hell out. If you ever dare to come back, I’ll hang every last one of you," Ling Tian suddenly stood, his deep voice booming. A powerful, intimidating aura erupted from him like a raging beast, sending chills down everyone’s spine.

Under such pressure, Huang Ting and her companions couldn’t stand it. They bolted out, stumbling and crawling, a few even abandoning their shoes, too scared to go back for them.

"Your abuse of children will be in tomorrow’s headlines," Huang Ting shouted defiantly from the doorway.

Ling Tian sneered. "Take a look at this," he said, lifting Little Dingdang and pulling up the child’s shirt to reveal a tender, flawless back—soft as a baby’s, full of life and resilience.

Huang Ting rubbed her eyes hard and looked again. The reporters could hardly believe what they were seeing. Where were the wounds on Little Dingdang? Just moments ago, the child was covered in bruises and marks, yet now, as if by magic, all traces had vanished.

Seeing this, Huang Ting and the others knew their carefully laid scheme had been effortlessly unraveled by this young man before them.

"Three strikes, and this is the third," Ling Tian said coldly. If he weren’t injured, in his usual manner he’d have long since stormed the Gu family estate.

"Kid, you’re ruthless. But by offending our Nianhua Real Estate Company, your days are numbered." With that, Huang Ting hurried into her car and vanished in an instant.

Nianhua Real Estate Company?

The old director explained, "That’s right. Nianhua Real Estate has its eye on the orphanage’s land. Officially, there’s no connection between Nianhua Group and the Gu family, but in reality, the Gu family is the real power behind Nianhua Group."

Last time, Baldy and Old Wolf stirred up trouble under the name of Young Master Gu. Now, Huang Ting invoked Nianhua Real Estate. Clearly, the Gu family wanted to avoid direct involvement for now. After all, if they did, the Mu family, who stood behind Ling Tian, would not sit idly by.

Ling Tian now found himself deeply intrigued by the Gu family. What a worthy old clan, standing firm in Yunhai City for a hundred years—their methods indeed were extraordinary.

It was just like the old rivalry between the US and the Soviet Union—each side eager to destroy the other, yet constrained by mutual respect for each other’s strength. So instead, they would send proxies or engage in covert skirmishes—a limited war.

This was precisely the Gu family’s strategy. They were not yet powerful enough to destroy the Mu family without consequences.

And Ling Tian’s guess was right—the Gu family truly wasn’t ready. To them, Ling Tian was merely a formidable fighter, but in the modern world, no matter how strong a man is, flesh and blood cannot withstand bullets.

Given Nianhua Group’s resources, dealing with Ling Tian would not be difficult. Moreover, as Ling Tian was acting in a personal capacity to protect the orphanage, as long as the Gu family stayed in the background, the Mu family would not intervene.

As an ancient clan, the Mu family would not risk offending the Gu family just for Ling Tian.

Thus, a delicate balance had been struck, each side wary of the other.

With this realization, Ling Tian’s lips curled into a cold smile. As the saying went, three strikes and you’re out—this was already the third. It seemed that unless he taught them a hard lesson, they would never understand the consequences of provoking him. Once Nianhua Group had been dealt with, he would see what other tricks the Gu family had up their sleeve.

With his plan set, Ling Tian headed for Qingcheng Group.

Upon entering the office, he saw Wang Yong, who had been beaten up previously, now holding court with several employees, boasting and bragging.

Wang Yong, his head still wrapped in gauze, sat atop a desk, spittle flying as he spoke. "I’m not exaggerating—here in Yunhai City, your brother here is a well-known figure. I wouldn’t say I have both sides of the law in my pocket, but I’ve got friends on the street. When they hear my name, who wouldn’t show me a little respect?"

"Our company’s public relations issues? As soon as I step in, problem solved," Wang Yong declared smugly, reveling in the admiration.

Ling Tian ignored him and found his own seat. So long as Wang Yong didn’t cause more trouble, Ling Tian couldn’t be bothered with such trash.

Xue Kun, the head of the public relations department, approached with a stack of files, beckoning to Wang Yong. "Wang Yong, there’s something I need you to handle."

Wang Yong drawled, "What is it? Don’t bother me with trivial matters—I’m a man for the big jobs."

Xue Kun shook his head in exasperation. If not for Wang Yong’s cousin being a major client, he’d have kicked this blowhard out long ago. "I was going to give this to Ling Tian, but he was busy at the time, so now it’s yours," Xue Kun said, handing over the documents.

Wang Yong glanced at them and sniffed, utterly unimpressed. "I thought it was something big—just a debt collection, is it?"

Xue Kun’s expression grew stern. "At our last company event, we booked a bar and paid two hundred thousand. We only used a hundred thousand’s worth, and there’s still a hundred thousand we haven’t gotten back."

"That’s nothing," Wang Yong scoffed.

"Even if it’s not a huge sum, it’s still the company’s hard-earned money. You’re to get every penny back," Xue Kun said in a deep voice, growing ever more dissatisfied with Wang Yong. "If it weren’t for your drunken antics, we’d have collected it long ago."

At that moment, Ling Tian stood up. "I’ll come along and see if Wang Yong is as impressive as the rumors say."

Only then did Xue Kun and Wang Yong realize Ling Tian was present. Their reactions were telling—Wang Yong looked awkward, while Xue Kun greeted him warmly.

"Perfect. You can get familiar with the work," Xue Kun said with a smile.

With the supervisor’s word and Ling Tian right there, Wang Yong had no choice but to nod in agreement.