Ye Qiu’s kick was brutal, merciless.
It shook the crowd.
He knew if it wasn’t him today, but someone else, Ma Dong would’ve crushed them beyond recognition.
A spoiled rich kid like Ma Dong, flaunting his family’s wealth, needed a harsh lesson.
Only then would he rein it in. Otherwise, who knows how many more he’d trample?
The onlookers felt a chill run through them.
Ye Qiu’s kick didn’t just ruin Ma Dong’s hand—it stamped on their hearts.
“Guess we should keep a low profile. Even a big shot like Ma got taken down. There’s always a bigger fish.”
“Old saying: work loud, live quiet. Ain’t wrong.”
“If Ma wasn’t so cocky with his family’s money, would he be in this mess?”
“Who yelled ‘stop’ earlier?”
“Sounded like it came from the door.”
Heads turned toward the entrance.
At the bar’s doorway stood a middle-aged man, maybe in his fifties, slightly stocky, in a suit with slicked-back hair, radiating authority.
“Hiss, it’s Ma the Tycoon!”
Someone’s shout snapped all eyes to the door.
“It’s really him.”
“Didn’t expect to see Suzhou’s richest man in the flesh. What a privilege!”
“Wrong occasion, though. Otherwise, I’d snap a pic with him to brag to my business buddies.”
As chatter buzzed, Ma the Tycoon strode straight for Ye Qiu.
His face was grim, eight bodyguards trailing behind.
Whispers sparked again.
“Even Ma the Tycoon’s here. This won’t end quietly.”
“That kid broke Ma Junior’s fingers. No way Tycoon lets him off.”
“Ma Junior’s his only son, after all.”
“How’s Tycoon gonna punish him?”
“That kid’s no pushover. Won’t go down easy.”
By now, everyone saw it—Ye Qiu was tough, not someone to mess with.
“He might have some backing, but no way he’d challenge Ma the Tycoon.”
“These days, the poor fear the rich, the rich fear the officials. Tycoon’s got deep ties in business and government.”
“Green Wolf Gang’s just a gang. If Tycoon pulls official strings, they’d crumble overnight.”
“If that kid’s smart, he’d apologize now, eat some humble pie, beg Tycoon’s forgiveness.”
“Might get a pass if he does.”
Ma Dong, groaning on the floor, saw his father approach and yelled, “Dad, save me!”
“Someone’s trying to kill your son.”
“You gotta take him out!”
Ma the Tycoon reached Ma Dong, helped him up, glanced at his mangled hand, and asked, “Does it hurt?”
“Hurts.”
Ma Dong nodded, tears streaming. As the tycoon’s son, he’d never been humiliated like this.
Ma noticed the slap mark on Ma Dong’s face, then asked Ye Qiu, “You hit my son?”
“Why ask? You saw it,” Ye Qiu said with a grin.
The crowd was floored.
This kid dared talk to Ma the Tycoon like that? And he was *smiling*?
“Good! Very good!”
Ma’s words hissed through clenched teeth, his face dark as coal.
Anyone could see he was pissed.
A tycoon’s wrath carried weight.
But Ye Qiu, as if blind to it, kept going, “Gotta say, for a tycoon, raising a punk like him? You’re no father of the year.”
The crowd gasped.
“What’s he mean? Lecturing Ma the Tycoon?”
“Some wet-eared kid schooling Suzhou’s richest man? He’s done for!”
“Way too arrogant!”
“Tycoon’s gonna bury him!”
Everyone thought Ye Qiu was toast.
Then, the next second, Ma the Tycoon bowed ninety degrees to Ye Qiu, saying politely, “Sir, thank you for disciplining my useless son.”
“You’re right—I’m no good father.”
“Been too busy with business, neglected him. That’s why he runs wild, does whatever.”
“Truth is, I’ve heard about his antics. Planned to teach him a lesson myself but never found the right moment. Worried it’d strain us—he’s grown, got his own mind. Didn’t expect you’d step in today. You’ve done me a huge favor.”
Ma shot a glance at a bodyguard.
The guard got it, stepped forward, and offered Ye Qiu a bank card with both hands.
“What’s this?” Ye Qiu asked, eyes narrowed.
Ma grinned, “Thanks for teaching my boy. Words can’t express my gratitude. A small token—please accept it.”
The crowd was stunned.
What? No revenge for Ma Dong, and he’s *paying* the kid?
No scriptwriter would dare dream this up!
Ye Qiu saw through Ma’s game, thinking to himself, no surprise a tycoon’s no ordinary player.
“Well, I won’t say no.”
He took the card and tossed it to Qian Duoduo.
“Password’s six eights, ten million inside,” Ma said, a faint smirk flickering, then turned to Ma Dong, “Apologize to Mr. Ye, now!”
Ma Dong balked, “Dad…”
“Now!”
Under his father’s glare, Ma Dong muttered a half-hearted “sorry” to Ye Qiu.
Ma faced the crowd, “Sorry for the mess tonight. My no-good son ruined your evening.”
“All tabs tonight are on me. Please forgive the trouble.”
“Mr. Ye, I won’t keep you from your drinks. I’ll take my son home.”
Ye Qiu nodded slightly.
Ma signaled his guards. Two grabbed Ma Dong and hustled him out.
Gao Fei tried sneaking off behind Ma Dong.
“Hold it,” Ye Qiu called.
Ma turned, puzzled, “Anything else, Mr. Ye?”
“You can go. He stays.”
Ye Qiu pointed at Gao Fei.
Gao Fei, already cowed by Ye Qiu’s beatdown, pleaded to Ma, “Tycoon, take me with you, or he’ll kill me…”
Bam!
Ma’s fist dropped Gao Fei, “We’re leaving.”
