Free Web NovelChapter 133: Chapter 132: Zhao Tianpeng
Fu Juemin naturally couldn’t voice such a baseless premonition, so he listened as Aunt Ding continued.
"...These impulsive squabbles between you juniors, neither Mayor Wen nor Luo Zhengxiong will personally get involved.
If I were to interfere again, I would be breaking the rules."
"The rules..."
Fu Juemin mulled over these two words, lowering his gaze to sip his tea.
Madam Ding took his hand and said softly, "But you’ve been wronged so terribly this time. We can’t just let this grievance go."
"Then, what do you mean, Aunt Ding?"
Madam Ding’s tone was calm as she said flatly, "Yan the Ninth and Shen Wantong are both dead. We didn’t manage to get any dirt on Luo Zhengxiong’s son, so it is indeed difficult to make a move against him.
But Zhao Jigang’s men were clearly present at Sanjiang Restaurant. His son, Zhao Tianpeng... you can toy with him as you please...
That Zhao Jigang wants to latch onto Luo Zhengxiong’s coattails, so he’s been pushing his son to get into the Luo and Chen families’ circle.
Unfortunately, his son is too stupid. So stupid he’s only fit to be used as someone’s pawn..."
Madam Ding looked at Fu Juemin, her words filled with indulgence and confidence. "For the time being, you can freely command the men from the Qinglian Gang’s three halls: Lu’an, God of Wealth, and Hundred Industries.
If that’s not enough men, have Big Cat borrow more from the Feng Xin and Yi Lv halls.
Do whatever you want until you’ve vented all that frustration...
I’ll give you a phone number later."
Madam Ding paused, then continued, "When you call, just say you’re looking for a Mr. Liang.
If you need any help on the official side of things, he’ll take care of it for you."
Listening to Madam Ding’s casual words, Fu Juemin couldn’t help but sigh to himself.
’After the fall of the previous dynasty, martial artists truly have no status. Even a Martial Champion is nothing in the eyes of the top elites, reduced to a soft target anyone can bully.’
"Thank you, Aunt Ding."
Fu Juemin replied obediently.
The more docile and sensible he acted, the more shame and pity filled Madam Ding’s eyes as she looked at him.
Outsiders only saw her, Ding Moshan, with power and wealth in hand, living a glorious life. They didn’t know that in her position, it was like walking on thin ice. One wrong step, and beneath her was an abyss of eternal damnation.
She opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. In the end, she could only reach out and gently stroke Fu Juemin’s cheek as a gesture of comfort.
Ten minutes later, Fu Juemin emerged from the study.
Outside the door was a courtyard where the snow lay unswept. Moonlight spilled down, casting everything in a cold, silent, silvery white.
"The rules."
Fu Juemin stood on the veranda, looking down at the paper in his hand—the phone number for Mayor Wen’s secretarial office, which Aunt Ding had just written for him. He couldn’t help but sigh. "Shenghai’s number one rule... who was the one to set it?"
He recalled his family being forced into a desperate corner back in Luan River.
He had killed one Song Lin, but now a second and a third had appeared.
’In the end, it’s my own fault for not being strong enough!’
’Otherwise, if I knew who my enemies were, I could just show up at their door and kill them all. Nothing would be simpler.’
In his eyes, the affairs of this world were like a giant card table.
If you don’t have the power to flip the table, you can only sit there obediently, take the hand you’re dealt and the chips you have, and play by the table’s rules, countering every move as it comes.
Fu Juemin sighed softly and was about to put the number in his pocket.
Suddenly, he remembered that he had received another number on his way to Shenghai.
’Now seems like the perfect time to use it...’
’Let me think.’
Fu Juemin rubbed his clean-shaven chin, a faint glimmer in his eyes. ’The hand I’m holding now... doesn’t seem so bad after all.’
In his peripheral vision, he caught sight of Big Cat standing silently in the shadows of the veranda not far away, as imposing as a solid wall.
Fu Juemin beckoned him over and began giving orders, one by one, in a low voice.
"Go and find out for me...
About that Zhao Tianpeng...
Everything there is to know..."
"Yes."
...
「Wenhe Theater.」
On the third floor of the Opera Garden, in a VIP private room sectioned off by a screen.
A sturdily built young man sat ramrod straight with a blank expression.
He had coppery skin, a square jaw, a wide mouth, and a pair of thick eyebrows that slanted up toward his temples. His hair was impeccably styled in a side-parted slick-back. He wore a well-made crossover shirt and a black vest, a high-quality Jade Pendant hung from his waist, a Tiger Head Jade Ring was on his finger, and in his palm, he slowly rotated two Mutton Fat Jade White Balls the size of goose eggs.
He exuded an indescribable air of dignity and sternness, the very picture of a fine young master from a noble family.
Anyone with a discerning eye in this Public Concession Center, this Ten-Mile Foreign Field, would recognize him as the famous Young Master Zhao Tianpeng, the only son of Zhao Jigang, president of the Shenghai Martial Dao Association, and one of the former Four Young Masters of Shenghai.
But at this moment, Zhao Tianpeng was far from as calm as he appeared. On the contrary, his mood was utterly foul.
The famous actors on stage warbled their tunes, occasionally drawing loud cheers from the audience below and in other private boxes. To his ears, however, it was all just grating noise.
Yan the Ninth was dead.
The scheme he had participated in along with Young Master Quan, Luo Chengying, and Young Master Wen, Chen Qingyuan, had completely fallen through—
It was Chen Qingyuan’s idea. The plan was to use it to suppress and infiltrate the power of Wen Zhiqiu’s faction, which had always been at odds with the Luo Sect, and as a bonus, to let him vent his frustration at being forced out of his position as one of the "Four Young Masters of Shenghai."
But things didn’t go as planned; the scheme failed in an unexpected way.
Failure was one thing, but Luo Chengying and Chen Qingyuan had suffered no losses. They could just curse a bit in private and move on—back to their horse races and dance halls.
But it was different for him. For the sake of Luo Chengying’s follow-up plan, he had sacrificed a Tongxuan Realm martial arts master from his own house!
That was Hong Yi, a man he had to call "Uncle" out of respect for his seniority.
But when the man was sent back, all that remained was a cold corpse. Most of the bones in his body were shattered. The rumor was that he had been pinned against a wall and beaten to death, punch by punch.
Three days had passed, but Zhao Tianpeng still didn’t dare to go home, much less show his face at Hong Yi’s memorial service to pay his respects.
With his father, Zhao Jigang, being the president of the Martial Dao Association, no one dared to blame him openly. But he was surely being cursed viciously behind his back.
Zhao Tianpeng had suffered a huge loss in this matter, but he couldn’t and didn’t dare blame Luo Chengying. Thus, all his resentment could only fall upon a certain someone who hadn’t obediently died according to plan.
"Fu Lingjun!"
Zhao Tianpeng spat the name out through clenched teeth, squeezing the two Mutton Fat Jade Balls in his hand so hard they creaked.
TING-A-LING—
Just as he was thinking this, a small bell hanging by the screen chimed softly. The door curtain swayed, and a middle-aged man in a short gray jacket and a melon-rind cap walked in quickly.
Seeing the man, Zhao Tianpeng’s expression shifted, and he subconsciously started to rise from his chair.
"Is Miss Su leaving?"
"Reporting to Young Master, Miss Su... isn’t thinking of leaving yet."
Zhao Tianpeng’s face darkened at his words. "Then what the hell are you doing barging in here?" he cursed. "Didn’t I tell you to keep a close eye on Miss Su for me?"
The "Miss Su" they spoke of was a female relative of the Su Family of Shenghai, from the former Su Erjia Luo Clan of the previous dynasty.
Her seniority in the Su Erjia Luo Clan was extremely high. She had a noble status but was not well-known, and as she had always lived with her husband’s family, few people knew of her.
Only recently had she returned to Shenghai for a long-term stay.
The remnants of the previous dynasty’s clans held themselves in high regard and had always looked down on Shenghai’s newly rich and powerful. The two groups had always moved in separate circles.
Moreover, she was a married woman. Logically speaking, she and Zhao Tianpeng should have no connection whatsoever.
But he, Zhao Tianpeng, naturally had his own plans.
