Chapter Twenty-Three: Fierce Battle

Liu Jingye could only smile wryly, thinking to himself, “It’s rare to see a woman like this—so determined to make a name for herself in the martial world, with a resolute and stubborn character. She really does have the bearing of a leader.”

The group had come here to share a couple of drinks mainly to avoid pursuit by Huangchao’s reinforcements. Now, seeing that there were no enemies in sight, they needed to make preparations for what lay ahead. This time, they had truly made an enemy of Huangchao. If they wanted to keep on surviving, they had to come up with a way to deal with the situation.

Liu Jingye followed them out the door, and just as he reached the entrance, a drunken man staggered toward the exit as well. Squeezed together, the two collided, and the drunk nearly fell.

“Damn it, are you blind? If you want a beating, just say so!” The drunkard, reeking of alcohol, glared at Liu Jingye and spat the words at him.

He was about the same height as Liu Jingye, his nose nearly touching Liu’s face, with a fierce and insolent air.

Just as Lin Shengnan and the others expected Liu Jingye to thrash the drunk, they were surprised to see Liu Jingye actually yield. He opened his hands and apologized, “Sorry, after you.”

No one hits a smiling man. Having gained the upper hand, the drunk sneered, cursed under his breath, and left.

Shitou, who had just witnessed Liu Jingye’s extraordinary knife skills and was still full of admiration, couldn't help but ask, “Boss, why didn’t you beat him up?”

Liu Jingye smiled slightly. “I can fight lions, I can challenge tigers, but I will never stoop to contend with a mad dog. Not everyone is worthy of being my opponent.”

His words left everyone momentarily stunned, especially Lin Shengnan. Her bright eyes sparkled, clearly moved, as she pondered his words seriously.

“I’ve helped you as much as I can. Don’t let the hard-won morale we’ve built slip away!” Liu Jingye spoke like a wise mentor, guiding Lin Shengnan.

With that, he lit a cigarette and walked away at a leisurely pace.

That single remark struck Lin Shengnan deeply: “He’s right—not everyone is worthy of being my adversary. I didn’t come here merely to clash with Huangchao; I have far greater ambitions to achieve. Compared to that, Huangchao is just a hurdle on the road to success. As long as I get past it, why should I let it trouble me? If even Huangchao could hold me back, how could I hope to reach loftier goals?”

Lin Shengnan clenched her delicate fists tight, veins standing out, a testament to her unwavering resolve.

“Boss, this Liu Jingye is no ordinary man,” said the mature and steady Hu Ming, coming forward and gazing at Liu Jingye’s receding figure.

Lin Shengnan nodded. “He truly isn’t. Perhaps he is far beyond what we can comprehend. So, whatever you do, don’t provoke him.”

“Then can’t we try to bring him into the fold, make him our partner?” Shitou chimed in, his voice guileless. “He’s so strong—I really want to learn knife skills from him.”

Lin Shengnan’s eyes turned cold as she watched him twirl his butterfly knife with nimble fingers and wrists. She smiled faintly. “What you do is called knife play. What he does is the art of killing.”

The image of Liu Jingye wielding the blade just moments ago remained vivid in their minds—swift, precise, ruthless. Yet, he had deliberately avoided his opponent’s vital points. The thought sent a chill down their spines.

“If he were to join us and become the leader, what would we have to fear?” Shitou said dreamily, until Hu Ming coughed twice, making him quickly add, scratching his head, “Of course, big sister is always the boss. He could be the brother-in-law...”

Meanwhile, Liu Jingye was strolling down the street, basking in the gentle afternoon sunlight.

“At last, things have settled down. Without that unscrupulous Yuan Xiaoying, life is finally a bit easier,” he murmured, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Let’s hope that scuffle was enough to keep Huangchao in line.”

Normally, he wouldn’t use weapons against mere lackeys, but this time he’d drawn his blade—sometimes people only understand the gravity of a situation after seeing blood.

“With spring outings just around the corner, the inn will soon be busy. I need to make some achievements to show my parents.”

Liu Jingye brimmed with confidence; in anything he did, his fighting spirit was strong. He didn’t ask to be the best at everything, but he always gave his all.

Just then, his phone rang—a number he didn’t recognize. Puzzled, he answered, and a stream of rapid Arabic came through.

“Uncle?” Liu Jingye was briefly startled, then remembered: there was an arms deal to discuss.

“I’ve already contacted that intermediary. We’re set to meet at the docks tonight. I hope you’ll attend as well—it’ll help build trust between us and make this transaction go more smoothly,” his uncle said in a low voice.

“All right,” Liu Jingye agreed readily. He was eager to meet this go-between—why had he suddenly become an arms broker?

He spent the afternoon leisurely wandering the streets and making preparations for any contingency.

At the appointed hour, Liu Jingye arrived alone at the docks. Stars dotted the night sky, the sea before him was pitch black, and only the constant sound of waves echoed in his ears. Several cargo ships lay anchored in the distance. Recently, a storm had passed, and the rough seas meant few vessels were in port; the place was eerily quiet.

Standing on the empty dock, Liu Jingye waited patiently. Suddenly, a salty sea breeze swept over him, chilling to the bone.

At the same moment, a sudden chill prickled his spine—a sense of great danger approaching.

He didn’t hesitate. He dove forward, rolling as he hit the ground, just as a gleaming dagger whistled overhead and plunged into the sea.

He whirled around to see two more throwing knives flying toward him. He rolled to the side, evading them, sprang to his feet, and bolted toward the shadows.

Just then, another throwing knife appeared directly in his path. He was running too fast to stop in time, and it seemed he would run headlong into the blade—the timing of his attacker was perfect.

As he ran, Liu Jingye reached inside his coat. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a small knife spinning through the air; it collided with the incoming blade in a shower of sparks.

With a metallic clang, both knives clattered to the ground. Without missing a beat, Liu Jingye hurled two more knives toward the darkness. There were two soft thuds, as if they’d found their mark.

He rushed over—his blades were embedded in a suit jacke