Chapter Sixteen: Today, Let Me Show You What True Power Is!

Top floor of the Commerce Hotel.

As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, Jiang Yu caught a rich aroma in the air.

Several waiters carried platters laden with delicacies toward the private rooms at the end of the corridor. The dishes represented all eight culinary traditions of Huaxia.

The fragrance was a blend from a dozen rare and exquisite dishes, intoxicating enough to make one’s mouth water and appetite surge.

He’d long heard rumors that the top floor of the Commerce Hotel was a world unto itself, a high-end social haven tailored by a certain technology official for the city’s elite magnates.

The rooms bore a special name: The Pool of Wine and Forest of Meat. Within, master musicians played, beauties danced and sang.

The official’s rank was modest, but his authority was intimidating.

Many among Yun City’s upper crust had heard tales of the Pool of Wine and Forest of Meat.

Why no one had yet managed to topple this particular official, however, remained a mystery.

Behind luxurious gates, the stench of wine and meat, while outside, lay bones frozen by the roadside.

So many dishes—more than an Eight Immortals table could accommodate.

At the door stood two men in suits, broad-shouldered and imposing. When Jiang Yu tried to enter, they blocked him with an outstretched hand. “Kid, no loitering here!”

Jiang Yu didn’t pause. He waved casually. “Noisy.”

A wind rose from nowhere, like thunder exploding out of the blue.

The two guards were hurled backward, crashing into the private room’s door.

Inside, several middle-aged men sat, glasses raised, voices mingling in mutual flattery.

Seeing the guards tumble through the doors, a man with gold-rimmed glasses leapt to his feet and cursed, “What are you doing? I’m entertaining distinguished—”

His words faltered as he realized something was amiss.

It seemed those two guards had been… flung inside.

Everyone instinctively looked toward the entrance, where a slender figure entered with hands clasped behind his back.

Jiang Yu scanned the crowd, his gaze finally settling on a fat man, whose mouth glistened with oil as he held a scantily clad woman in his arms.

None of them recognized Jiang Yu; they glanced at each other in confusion.

Except the fat man, who looked as if he'd seen a ghost, shrieking, “Jiang… Jiang Yu?”

He shoved the woman aside and stared at Jiang Yu in terror.

“Why are you here?”

Jiang Yu smiled. “I’ve come to collect. We agreed on one million; the deadline is midnight tonight. Yet I haven’t seen a single cent.”

He spoke with ease, and the gold-rimmed glasses-wearing section chief, Han Fugui, glanced suspiciously at the fat man. “What’s going on?”

The fat man quickly regained his composure, a cold sneer curling his lips. “Jiang Yu, I admit you’re formidable—even the Wolfhead couldn’t best you. But don’t forget, this era isn’t the age of bold heroes carving out their destiny.”

Jiang Yu understood now.

This fat man had never intended to pay him a million. Given his composure, he must have made preparations.

For instance, hired gunmen.

As he entered, Jiang Yu’s mind scanned the room—he sensed another table behind a hidden door, where several men dressed as guards sat, a pistol and a few machetes laid out.

“You knew I’d come for you?”

Jiang Yu smiled, pulling out a chair and seating himself.

The fat man was the highest-status person present; Han Fugui, as a section chief, wielded some authority, but not nearly the fat man’s influence.

The fat man smirked coldly. “I’m no outsider. I know martial artists have their rules. You said you’d come, so I expected it.”

Jiang Yu’s smile faded as he asked, “But do you know why only martial artists have rules?”

The fat man was stumped; he truly didn’t know.

Jiang Yu said calmly, “Because only martial artists have the power to enforce the rules they set.”

The fat man’s face darkened as he shouted, “Nonsense! In this society, only money, connections, and power matter. You may be tough, but tonight I’ll show you what a wealthy man can do.”

With that, the fat man slammed his wine glass onto the table.

As if it were a signal, the guards burst out, seven or eight in all.

The lead guard circled behind Jiang Yu, raised his pistol, and aimed it at the back of his head.

Jiang Yu smiled; this was the fat man’s trump card.

After a moment, he looked up at the fat man. “So, you have no intention of paying?”

Han Fugui eyed the fat man. “Boss Zhang, who is this kid? Is all this really necessary?”

Boss Zhang wrapped an arm around his girl and chuckled. “The kid’s got skills—he nearly killed one of Li Hao’s top men. No choice, got to be cautious. My million isn’t easy to take. Everyone knows Zhang Zeshui values money more than life.”

Han Fugui cast Jiang Yu a contemptuous look. “Hmph, broad daylight and you’re trying to extort money? In my opinion, call the police and have him arrested.”

Jiang Yu listened to their banter, curiosity in his gaze as he looked at Zhang Zeshui. “That night, you were a witness. I’m surprised that after seeing everything, you still have no respect for me. Is your reliance only the pistol behind me?”

Zhang Zeshui’s gaze grew sinister, his face pocked and flushed from drink.

“I don’t believe anyone can be faster than a gun. Martial artists are nothing but self-promoting frauds with a bit of fancy fighting. Stop bullets? You’re full of it!”

He ended with his eyes wide, cursing loudly.

Back when he dealt with the Wolfhead, Wolfhead boasted about the prowess of worldly martial artists.

But Zhang Zeshui never believed it—everyone has two shoulders and one head; how extraordinary could anyone be?

Seeing Jiang Yu come alone to collect, Zhang Zeshui was both angry and amused—this kid had no idea how dangerous the world was.

Han Fugui laughed, “Yeah, are there really people with kung fu nowadays? Think this is a movie? I’d like to see this kid try to stop a bullet.”

No one in the room took Jiang Yu seriously.

In their eyes, he was merely someone who’d learned a bit of martial arts—some fancy moves.

Jiang Yu shook his head lightly. “Very well. Tonight, I’ll show you fools what true power is.”

He slowly stood, turned to face the gunman, and shouted, “Shoot.”

The gunman instinctively looked at Zhang Zeshui.

Zhang Zeshui’s eyes glinted with malice. Just a kid—kill him and bury the body somewhere, no one would be the wiser.

With permission, the gunman, as if possessed, squeezed the trigger.

Everyone in the room instinctively covered their ears.

Bang!

A flash burst from the muzzle, deafening.

Seconds later, a faint voice sounded in the room.

“You really did fire, huh?”

Everyone held their breath, staring at Jiang Yu. He held up two fingers—the bullet lodged between them, unmoving!

Impossible.

Han Fugui stepped back, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Damn…”

The gunman couldn’t help but curse.

Everyone was dumbstruck.

Jiang Yu glanced at the bullet in his hand, picked up a chopstick, and snapped it into several pieces.

He held his hand before his chest, then flicked it sharply—several whistling sounds followed, and the guards in the room collapsed in succession.

“Zhang Zeshui, I gave you a chance. You chose not to value it. Now that you’ve witnessed my power, you can die without regret.”

Jiang Yu’s eyes, cold and detached, fell upon Zhang Zeshui.

Sweat poured down Zhang Zeshui’s face; his earlier composure vanished. Without hesitation, he fell to his knees, pleading, “Senior, spare me!”

“I’ll pay, I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

As Jiang Yu dispatched the guards with chopsticks, Zhang Zeshui realized this man intended to kill.

“Chief Han, help me!”

Before death, even the richest tremble. The fear of death is universal.

Even an ant clings to life—how much more so for a man?

Chief Han’s face was pale. Could someone really catch a bullet barehanded?

Terrified, he relied on his status and shouted, “You dare, boy?”

Jiang Yu said, “Too bad, money is useless to me now. I want something else from you.”

Zhang Zeshui nodded frantically. “Fine, whatever you want, just say it. Even if I don’t have it, I’ll get it for you.”

Jiang Yu picked up another chopstick, gently stroking its surface as if caressing a lover’s cheek.

“I want your life.”

The words fell, and a chopstick shot from Jiang Yu’s hand, piercing Zhang Zeshui’s chest and pinning him to the wall.

Zhang Zeshui’s eyes widened as blood streamed from his chest.

Meanwhile, armed police surged toward the room.

When Jiang Yu killed the guards, someone had already called the police. Coincidentally, the district’s deputy station chief and several officers were dining in the Commerce Hotel.

Within three or four minutes, they had surrounded the private room.

At that moment, Jiang Yu’s phone rang.

“Hello, is this Mr. Jiang?”

A clear, pleasant voice sounded from the other end.

It was Xia Ning.

Jiang Yu glanced at the police at the door, pondered for a moment, and said, “I’m at the Commerce Hotel, ran into a bit of trouble.”

Xia Ning didn’t hesitate. “I’ll have Uncle Xia pick you up; he’ll be there in ten minutes.”

After hanging up, Jiang Yu picked up a wine glass and drank alone.

Originally, he’d intended for Li Hao to clean up the aftermath, but since Xia Ning had called, he decided to see what she could do.

It was said the Xia family controlled half the wealth of Jiangbei—if they stomped their foot, the region’s economy would regress ten years. In terms of influence, even Jiangbei’s richest, Ma Tianzong, was no match.

Moments later, a furious voice thundered through the room: “Boy, tonight no one can save you!”