End of World’s Businessman
Translator: Spring Flowers BL
Wu Ye stayed at the Mi Du until the early hours. When the night finally ended, he called a designated driver to take the guests home one by one, and only then drove back with his father. Mr. Wu, already getting older, couldn’t handle the effects of the alcohol after a night of drinking—even with physical-strengthening pills—and ended up falling asleep in the car.
MiDu was located on the outskirts of the city, and at that hour of the morning, there were barely any vehicles on the road. After driving for a while, Wu Ye sensed something strange—it felt like they were being followed.
Soon after, on a sharp curve, his suspicions were confirmed.
There was a steel plate full of nails placed in the middle of the road. Two unmarked, abandoned vans blocked the road ahead, while two more just like them—equally old and without plates—closed in from behind with their headlights flashing in a threatening manner.
Since he’d noticed they were being followed, Wu Ye had been driving slowly. When he saw the ambush, he calmly pulled the car over to the side of the road, glanced at the old man sleeping in the back seat, pressed his lips together, and silently got out, carefully closing the door behind him.
Around twenty men stepped out of the four vans, all of them large, tough-looking guys with the air of street thugs—you could tell from a mile away they weren’t there with good intentions.
Leading them was Wen Lao’er, a small-time underworld boss in the city, a man in his early thirties with dyed yellow hair, spinning a fake gun in his hand as he looked at Wu Ye with a lewd, malicious grin: “Kid, if you’re smart, come with us quietly and no one will hurt you. Otherwise, that smooth little skin of yours won’t hold up to what we’ve got planned.”
The Second Young Master muttered coldly, flashing an arrogant, indifferent smile: “Kid? You think you can call me that? What kind of trash do you think you are?”
Wen Lao’er figured with all the setup, Wu Ye would at least show a little fear or hesitation. But to his surprise, not only did the young man show no fear, he didn’t even seem to be taking them seriously. That made Wen’s blood boil.
“You bastard, that pretty little face of yours is begging for a beating. You dare insult Grandpa Wen? You got a death wish? Pretty soon Grandpa's gonna—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Wen’s vision went black. He didn’t even know what hit him—his neck was suddenly locked in a firm grip, and a sharp pain shot through his wrist: the gun was already in Wu Ye’s hands.
Wu Ye spun the weapon skillfully, pointed it directly at Wen’s temple, and said coldly:
“Anyone who dared pretend to be my grandfather has already gone to hell. If you don’t want to join him, you’d better shut that filthy mouth of yours.”
Wu Ye was slightly shorter than Wen, but he lifted him by the neck with ease, leaving him dangling in the air. Wen turned purple, eyes bulging, arms flailing helplessly as he tried to break free.
The other thugs—completely unprepared for Wu Ye’s strength—froze in shock at the sight of their boss being subdued so easily. Drunk and armed with switchblades, they rushed in together.
Wu Ye hurled Wen like a sack of potatoes, slamming him into a group of attackers and sending them all crashing to the ground. Then he fired several shots at the feet of the oncoming thugs. Each bullet landed precisely—steel pellets from his high-precision pistol pierced their feet, making them drop their “weapons” and roll on the ground, screaming in pain.
Two of them who had stayed behind came charging with knives, but the cold look Wu Ye shot their way was enough to freeze them in place. They turned and ran without a second thought.
With one hand behind his back, hidden under his casual blazer, Wu Ye pulled a real gun from his special storage space and fired twice at Wen. One bullet grazed his neck, leaving a bloody gash. The other hit his shin, spraying blood everywhere.
One of the thugs nearby caught the smell of urine—Wen’s jeans were completely soaked.
“W-what are you going to do?” Wen stammered, trembling, trying not to cry as he clutched his injured leg. He hadn’t expected Wu Ye to be carrying a real firearm. In this country, gun control was extremely strict; ordinary people had no way to get one. That fake gun he’d brought had been tough enough to obtain through back channels. But Wu Ye not only had a real weapon—he had skills with it that Wen had only ever seen in Hollywood action movies.
Damn. He thought he’d found an easy target but ended up kicking a steel wall... covered in nails. Total nightmare running into a demon like this.
The cold barrel of the gun pressed against Wen Lao’er’s throat as Wu Ye smiled gently, charming dimples flashing in and out of view:
“I’m actually more curious about what you were planning to do. You can lie to me if you want. But if the little friend in my hand here senses you’re not telling the truth and just so happens to go off by accident… don’t come crying to me.”
“And the rest of you—shut the fuck up. If anyone else opens their mouth, I’ll shoot them on the spot.”
The air froze. No one dared make a sound. The murderous aura Wu Ye gave off in that moment made it clear to everyone—he wasn’t playing around.
Wu Ye pressed the gun against Wen Lao’er’s neck once more. “Tell me, who sent you? What was the real goal behind this ambush?”
Wen Lao’er was an old-time thug. He started out charging protection money from classmates, then moved on to extorting street vendors, and eventually selling drugs in karaoke bars and nightclubs. Over the years, he’d been in plenty of trouble and had drawn knives more times than he could count. But this was the first time he’d run into someone like Wu Ye—a true “titanium tank.”
Over time, Wen Lao’er had developed a sixth sense for danger. And at that moment, he could clearly smell blood on Wu Ye—the kind of scent only a man with nothing left to lose would carry. And it was strong. That same deadly aura, he had only felt once before—in his grandfather, who had gone to war. He would bet everything that Wu Ye had taken lives before.
What the hell… Who is this guy? Weren’t they saying he was just a useless, cowardly heir with nothing going for him?
Wen Lao’er, now completely terrified and curled up like a shrimp, had no idea that Wu Ye had never actually killed a living person. But he had taken down thousands of the undead. Three months of intense combat changes a person.
Wen Lao’er had been paid to take care of a problem—but not enough to throw his life away. Without thinking twice, he spilled everything: he ratted out Yang Cheng and his buddies in vivid detail, and in the end, begged through tears for the “Second Young Master” to spare him.
Wu Ye hadn’t expected Yang Cheng to be so petty. All of this had started from a dumb little argument he himself provoked! And now this? A full-on trap? If it weren’t for the experiences Wu Ye had been through recently, he might’ve actually fallen for it. No doubt about it—this called for a lesson.
“Wanna live?” Wu Ye sneered. “Fine, I’ll let you go. But everything Yang Cheng told you to do to me… you’re going to do to him. I want a video. Three days. Or else… hehe.”
There’s no threat more terrifying than a simple “hehe.”
Wen Lao’er exchanged glances with his goons for a few seconds. In the end, crushed by the pressure from the “Second Young Master,” he nodded with difficulty.
Wu Ye lightly tapped the barrel of the gun against Wen Lao’er’s pale face, his gaze so sharp it seemed to pierce straight through him. “Don’t even *think* about running. No matter where you hide, I have a thousand ways to find you. Now get out of here, you trash.”
With that, Wu Ye tossed the fake pistol back to Wen Lao’er.
Legs trembling, Wen Lao’er grabbed the weapon and took off with his lackeys without saying a word. They stumbled to their car and sped off, leaving behind only a few splatters of blood on the asphalt.
Wu Ye then turned to the sharp bend in the road, half-hidden by vegetation, and said coldly, “Friend, you’ve watched the show long enough. Not going to step out?”
Shen Ming emerged from the shadows, a glint of admiration in his eyes. “Young Master Wu, such skill… Who would’ve thought. A real wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
Shen Ming was the younger brother of Shen Cong, and one of the specialists under Zhao Jun’s command. He had been ordered to follow Wu Ye in secret, but hadn’t expected to witness such a show so quickly. When Wen Lao’er and his crew ambushed Wu Ye, Shen Ming hesitated, unsure if he should intervene. But Wu Ye handled them all with terrifying ease. What shocked him most wasn’t Wu Ye’s accuracy or explosive strength, but his body movements. Shen Ming had barely seen how Wu Ye grabbed Wen Lao’er and took his weapon. That ghostlike speed was something only elite mercenaries possessed—not even he had that kind of skill.
Of course, Wu Ye would never mention that he had focused the Qi generated by the Basic Breathing and Energy Circulation Technique into his legs, giving him speed far beyond that of an ordinary person.
Shen Ming bore some resemblance to Shen Cong. Since Wu Ye had just recently met Shen Cong, it wasn’t hard to guess that Shen Ming was also part of Zhao Jun’s team, though he didn’t know his name yet.
“And you are…?” Wu Ye asked.
“Shen Ming, under Brother Zhao’s command,” he replied, stepping closer and extending a hand with a smile. “May I have the honor of befriending Young Master Wu?”
Wu Ye extended his hand as well, smiling back. “Of course. A pleasure to meet you, Brother Shen.”
Shen Ming’s handshake was like a vise, immediately causing pain. Wu Ye responded by focusing his Qi into his hand and returning the pressure. Instantly, Shen Ming’s face twisted in pain. His gaze toward Wu Ye completely shifted—curiosity gave way to respect and caution.
Wu Ye, so young, was already a master of internal techniques. No wonder he’d taken down Wen Lao’er in a single move.
Wu Ye knew when to stop and eased off. Both of them withdrew their hands as if by silent agreement. Shen Ming pulled a plain business card from his pocket and handed it to Wu Ye. “Let’s stay in touch. Next time you come to Mídu to have some fun, just mention our boss’s name—everything will be on the house.”
Wu Ye had been thinking about how to approach Zhao Jun, and now the opportunity presented itself. Pleased, he took the card and smiled.
“Brother Zhao is too kind. I’ll be sure to thank him personally very soon.”
Seeing how receptive Wu Ye was, Shen Ming’s smile deepened. “Great. The boss will be staying in City H for a few days. We’re always available to receive you.”
“You’re very kind, Brother Shen,” Wu Ye replied, hearing a sound from the car and realizing his father had woken up. “It’s getting late. I need to take the old man home. Let’s talk again soon.”
“Of course. Until next time.”
Shen Ming watched as Wu Ye walked away. When he looked at his own already swollen hand, his calm expression finally cracked.
Damn, who would've thought that behind that pretty little face was such a ruthless hand?
On the other hand, that hand… it was oddly soft and smooth, nothing like someone who practiced martial arts. He needed to look deeper into this kid's background. Shaking his aching hand, Shen Ming got back in the car and drove back to Mídu, no longer following Wu Ye.
---
Father Wu had already woken up when he heard the gunshots. He never imagined his son would have such impressive skills. While he felt proud, there was also a tinge of sadness. Unlike others, he knew Wu Ye well. He was the laziest in the family, couldn’t handle hardship. When he was little, he once did two days of taekwondo out of curiosity, but threw a tantrum and refused to go back. Even to this day, you could count on one hand how many times he’d gotten into a fight. And now, there he was, easily taking down a gang of thugs.
That other world… was probably even more dangerous than A’Ye let on.
On the way back home, Father Wu had many thoughts. When they arrived, he suddenly said, “A’Ye, if we live modestly, the money we have is enough for you and A’Li to live well. How about not going back there anymore?”
Wu Ye was surprised. He never imagined that his father, who always wanted to see him succeed, would say something like that. His heart warmed, but he replied with a mocking expression,
“You’re not drunk, are you, old man? Talking like you’ve had a few. You might’ve given up your brain, but I haven’t. I still want to live like a spoiled rich young master! And don’t you want to become the richest man in the country?”
Seeing his father frown and widen his eyes in anger, Wu Ye quickly changed his tone: “Okay, okay, Dad. I get what you’re saying. You saw it yourself today: no one can hurt me. Plus, I have the system. If there’s any danger, I can hop back through a wormhole in no time. Don’t worry. Your son’s gonna be just fine and take care of you and Mom for the rest of your lives.”
Talking about “the rest of your lives” didn’t sound very pleasant.
Father Wu Ye was already used to his son's insolent ways and could only sigh, speaking seriously: “Either way, remember this—there will always be someone stronger than you. You can never be too careful.”
“Yes, yes. Go to bed already. Mom’s probably getting impatient. Seriously, the older you get, the more you nag. You’re worse than Mom.”
His father's palm started itching with anger, and he shot his son a death glare before going to wash up and head to bed.
---
Wen Lao Er was efficient. On the third day, even before Hua Peng could finish delivering the safety bed with tracker that Wu Ye had requested, he was already limping up to the door, forcing a smile and wearing a bootlicking expression. He handed over the USB drive with the incriminating video of Yang Cheng. He looked at Wu Ye like he wanted to say something, eyes full of submission.
Wu Ye only asked coldly, “Anything else?”
Wen Lao Er flinched, shook his head, and ran off with his tail between his legs.
“Boss, we messed with Yang Cheng. What now?” asked one of the thugs. After all, the Yang family had billions. Exposing a scandal like that—and with it all caught on video—there was no way they’d let it slide. For a family like theirs, crushing a bunch of low-level criminals was child’s play.
Everyone was regretting it. For a measly ten or twenty thousand, they had provoked a true demon—and betrayed their client on top of that. If word got out, how would they survive in the underworld?
Wen Lao Er spat on the ground: “That bastard Yang Cheng got what was coming to him. Anyway, the money we got from him is enough to wash our hands of this life. Worst case, we split the cash and disappear to another state. Get a woman, have kids, open a little business and live in peace.”
He was no longer young, and after years of a wandering life, he finally understood the phrase, “those who live by crime eventually pay the price.” With his savings and the money from that final job, he had around three to four million. In a small town, that was a fortune. Living a quiet life to the end didn’t sound like a bad idea.
---
Wen Lao Er knew how to walk away at the right time. He split the eight million extorted from Yang Cheng with his partners, hid his identity, and moved to a quiet town. He got married, had children, and took care of his elderly mother, living a stable and peaceful life.
Years later, when he found out that Wu Ye had become someone at a level few could even fathom, he felt a flicker of regret: if he had been bolder, and stuck with Wu Ye, would his fate have been different?
But as he looked at his chubby, well-behaved son, and saw his mother and wife smiling while picking out vegetables, Wen Lao Er knew for sure—his decision had been the wisest of his life. That small twinge of regret vanished completely.
His former companions, on the other hand, couldn’t resist the temptations of the world… and ended their days in ruin.
Note: It's midnight and I'm here translating. I'll try to translate more often, but since I'm in my last year of college I'm in a rush.
Comentários
Postar um comentário