Chapter 54: Zhang Deyou

The crowd grew larger by the minute, and among them, a beautiful figure stood out clearly—it was Jian Qiu, watching the hooligans. She clenched her fists, her face faintly showing excitement, as if eager to join in.

But finally, she let out a regretful sigh, loosened her clenched fists, and returned to her usual cold demeanor. Yet her gaze toward Zhou Andong shimmered with an inexplicable fire—a burning intensity that seemed capable of melting the entire world, sharply contrasting with the chill on her face.

“Fuck, even more arrogant than me! Think you’re some kind of Rambo? I don’t believe in fate—I’m gonna prove it. Guys, go beat the shit out of him.”

A huge idiot let out a roar and charged forward with a steel pipe. Then came a scene that left everyone stunned: the giant suddenly slammed on the brakes, turned around, and saw his four buddies standing frozen in place.

“Fuck!” the giant cursed inwardly, turned back to Zhou Andong, then looked again at his buddies—and found himself trapped between advance and retreat.

Go ahead? He knew Scar’s skills well—no matter how many guys like him, they couldn’t beat him. But now, just after facing off, the bastard had collapsed—clean, instant, like a blink of an eye. By the time he looked again, Scar was already on the ground. How could he dare go up alone and get beaten? But if he ran back like a kicked dog with all these people watching, how could he ever show his face again?

“Fuck, you’re such a pathetic piece of shit, pretending to be out in the streets.” Zhou Andong spat, then turned toward the van across the road. He had a feeling: someone else was inside. Probably the mastermind behind it all.

The giant exhaled deeply. Even if he went back now, his face was already lost. Then an idea struck him—he shouted: “What are you all standing there for? Hurry, take Scar to the hospital!”

The other four instantly rushed over: “Yeah, yeah, quick, take Scar to the hospital!”

The van’s guard had been stunned by what just happened. Seeing Zhou Andong approach, he turned pale, scrambled on all fours to the driver’s seat, trembling hands fumbling for the key. The engine roared to life. As if hearing beautiful music, he sighed in relief—and a cruel grin spread across his face.

“Fuck you, you got lucky this time—ran into Scar, a useless idiot. But next time, you won’t be so lucky. If I don’t kill you, I won’t take the surname Zhang.”

But his hand hadn’t even touched the gearshift when the door suddenly flew open. His collar was yanked tight—and an irresistible force dragged him out of the vehicle.

“Let go of me! Let go right now!” The man’s grin vanished, replaced by terror. “Do you know who I am? Do you know who I am?”

Zhou Andong dragged the man to the roadside, cigarette between his teeth, smiling as he asked: “Who are you? Tell me.”

“I’m Zhang Xingfei. My father is Zhang Deyou.”

Zhou Andong froze. Zhang Deyou had three daughters—no son. Where did this guy come from?

Zhang Xingfei saw Zhou Andong standing there stunned, got up from the ground, and pointed arrogantly at Zhou Andong’s chest.

“Fuck you! Now you’re scared? You’re not even a dog in my dad’s employ. I’ll get him to fire you—make your whole family beg for scraps in the northwest wind!”

Zhou Andong smiled. This guy was likely Zhang Deyou’s illegitimate son. But in his past life, none of this had happened—no one had known.

“What the hell are you laughing at?” Zhang Xingfei cursed. “You wanna hit me? Go ahead—try it!”

Zhou Andong’s smile grew wider. “Fine. Let’s try.”

“What did you say?” Zhang Xingfei’s face changed. Then his stomach felt like it had been slammed by a speeding car.

“Boom!” Zhang Xingfei screamed, flying backward—then crashed into the van behind him, bounced off, and slammed hard onto the ground.

Zhang Xingfei curled up like a boiled shrimp, blood-tinged vomit gushing uncontrollably from his mouth.

Zhou Andong’s eyes turned icy. Someone like Zhang Xingfei, if he failed this time, would try again. If he still failed, he might target Zhou Andong’s family. So he had to make him remember—every time Zhang Xingfei heard the name Zhou Andong, he’d have nightmares. Only then could future trouble be avoided.

So Zhou Andong went all out—punching and kicking Zhang Xingfei relentlessly. Zhang Xingfei screamed with every blow, his eyes rolling back, desperate to pass out—but the pain kept him more alert than ever.

“Help! Help!” Qu Hongqi ran over with the guards, shouting as he ran: “Quick, get him under control!”

The four guards at the gatehouse weren’t stupid—they’d rushed to report to Qu Hongqi. By the time Qu Hongqi arrived with his men, he saw a scene that made his eyes bulge. How could this be? He sprinted toward them, screaming wildly.

The four gatehouse guards didn’t dare move. The three men Qu Hongqi brought rushed forward and easily subdued Zhou Andong.

“Xingfei, how are you?” Qu Hongqi’s voice trembled with anxiety.

Zhang Xingfei struggled to lift his hand, pointing at Zhou Andong, mumbling something unintelligible. He looked horrific—covered in vomit, reeking of sour rot, his head a swollen, bloody mess, eyes swollen shut.

“Zhou Andong!” Qu Hongqi roared in fury, stood up, and swung his hand hard toward Zhou Andong’s face.

Zhou Andong swiftly grabbed the guard beside him by the collar, lifting him like a sack stuffed with cotton, and held him in front of himself.

“Slap!” The guard took the blow, stunned, dazed, stars flashing before his eyes. What the hell? Who hit me?

Zhou Andong poked his head out from behind the guard, grinning: “Qu Kezhang, that’s not right. If your subordinates misbehave, just scold them. Why hit them? That’s not acceptable.”

Qu Hongqi’s eyes bulged, bloodshot and terrifying. He pulled his police baton from his belt: “Get him under control.”

“Qu Hongqi, what are you doing?” Jian Qiu walked over, face cold.

Qu Hongqi gritted his teeth: “Director Jian, I’m handling an official case. Don’t interfere.”

“Handling a case? What just happened—you think all these people are blind? Even if Zhou Andong broke the law, he must be punished by law, not by your baton in a private beating.”

Qu Hongqi’s face turned ashen, veins bulging on his hand holding the baton—but before Jian Qiu, he dared not act.

“Take him back. Gathering to brawl at the brewery gate, assaulting someone without cause—this is lawless. He must be severely punished and fired.”