Chapter Sixty-Three: The Billion-Dollar Wager

Zhong Hui truly lived up to his reputation as the young master of the underground organization "Hongxing Society"—ready to resort to violence at the slightest provocation. In order to carve a path to dominance in the perilous underworld, he had received family martial arts training from a young age. Though he had only grasped the basics, his lean frame of over one hundred sixty pounds was packed with muscle, resulting in a physique of remarkable athleticism. When he moved, he was both agile and explosive. Thanks to his family heritage, his hands were formidable; it was said he could kill a goat with a single punch.

Facing Lin Feng, Zhong Hui was brimming with confidence. He casually raised his palm and swung it toward Lin Feng’s right cheek, secretly employing the family’s hidden force technique to double the power. Had it struck an ordinary person, even survival would be questionable; at the very least, severe concussion would be inevitable.

"Lin Feng!" Li Yating cried out anxiously, tugging at Lin Feng’s sleeve as he stood motionless, the slap about to land.

Yao Jianghe stood nearby, a cold smile on his lips. He was delighted to see someone stepping forward to teach Lin Feng a lesson, secretly gloating: "Ha! Lin Feng, keep acting arrogant! The old man has already spread word about you throughout Jinling, preparing to summon Jinling’s forces to deal with you. So what if you have the Tang family’s protection? Luring the tiger to swallow the wolf—you’ll die all the same!"

Why did Lin Feng’s return to Yao Group coincide so perfectly with Tian Xinyu and his companion’s arrival, and why did they just happen to come to the restaurant’s second floor at this moment? It was all a calculated move by the Yao family.

As Zhong Hui’s palm neared Lin Feng’s face, his smile grew more unrestrained. In his eyes, Lin Feng was still the laughingstock of Jinling City, the coward who suffered humiliation and was beaten until his teeth were scattered across the floor. But in the next moment, he realized how wrong he was.

When the slap was less than a centimeter from Lin Feng’s cheek, Lin Feng suddenly moved! Transforming his palm into a claw, his right hand shot out with lightning speed, creating a sharp tearing sound in the air.

"Crack—"

Before Zhong Hui could even register Lin Feng’s move, his right wrist was gripped tightly by a hand as hard as steel.

"You dare fight back? Let go now, Lin Feng, and maybe I’ll consider sparing you! Otherwise, I’ll—"

Even with his attack blocked, Zhong Hui remained arrogant, refusing to believe that the meek Lin Feng would truly defy him. But before he could finish his sentence, a crisp sound of breaking bone rang out.

"Snap—"

Lin Feng exerted force, instantly crushing Zhong Hui’s wrist!

"Ah—my hand! My hand!" Zhong Hui’s eyes reddened, blood shot through them, the veins on his neck bulged as he roared in agony.

When he raised his hand again, his right hand hung limply, bones shattered, utterly ruined.

"Lin Feng! I’ll kill you!" After years of underworld experience, Zhong Hui didn’t need to look; he knew his right hand was numb and destroyed. That was the hand he wielded his blade with, the foundation of his fighting career! With his right hand crippled, his dream of inheriting his father’s position as leader of Hongxing Society was dashed. The old veterans in the organization would never accept a cripple as their head.

His future was finished.

Driven mad with despair, Zhong Hui pulled out his concealed knife, brandishing it without a word and lunging forward. This time, the blade was aimed straight at Lin Feng’s heart.

He truly meant to kill Lin Feng.

Yet Lin Feng remained unmoved, as steady as a mountain, his face adorned with a faint, icy smile.

Seeing Lin Feng’s mocking smile, Zhong Hui’s rage intensified. His left hand, gripping the knife, pressed harder.

"I’ll kill you!"

The gleaming blade flashed toward Lin Feng’s chest, mere inches away, ready to pierce his heart and end his life.

But Lin Feng’s right hand flipped over, lightning-fast, seizing Zhong Hui’s left wrist.

His claw tightened, instantly fracturing Zhong Hui’s left hand bones.

"Ah—"

Zhong Hui howled in pain, the knife dropping from his hand.

Lin Feng’s lips curled into a cold smile; his right hand darted out to catch the falling knife mid-air.

"Zhong Hui, that’s not how you play with knives."

With a flick of his finger, the blade flew like a throwing knife, a flash of silver racing toward Zhong Hui’s throat, the shrill whistle of the blade following close behind, about to pierce his neck.

"How is this—help, save me—"

Zhong Hui staggered back in terror, but the knife was too fast to evade.

"Ah—"

As he shut his eyes, bracing for death, Lin Feng flicked his fingers downward, sending the blade plunging into Zhong Hui’s foot instead.

"My foot! Damn you—"

Zhong Hui hopped in agony, the knife impaling his foot, the wound so deep the bone was visible.

This attack left Zhong Hui no choice but to abandon all contempt for Lin Feng. When he looked up at Lin Feng again, any trace of disdain was gone, replaced by fear and awe.

With only two moves, Lin Feng had effortlessly subdued Zhong Hui, leaving him utterly cowed. Tian Xinyu was also shocked, but a sly smile soon appeared on his lips as he thought to himself:

"So this kid knows some martial arts—force won’t work. Time to change tactics and ruin him another way!"

Tian Xinyu narrowed his eyes, his gaze sharp as he stepped forward, smiling:

"Lin Feng, we’re old acquaintances—there’s no need for such hostility. You must know about the major event coming to Binhai City soon."

"You mean the showdown between Tianlong Hall and Jisheng Society?"

"Exactly. Between these two groups, which do you favor?"

"Jisheng Society."

"Jisheng Society? Well, I prefer Tianlong Hall. How about this: let’s use this confrontation as a wager."

"How do you propose we bet?"

"It’s simple. The stadium hosting the showdown is operated by my Tian family, and Hongxing Society has set up a betting pool. We each back our favored group, and use the current odds—ten to one in favor of Tianlong Hall over Jisheng Society."

"Agreed."

"Good, you’re straightforward!"

Tian Xinyu watched Lin Feng step right into his trap, a slight smile on his lips. He had already received insider information: Tianlong Hall had recruited powerful reinforcements with martial arts prowess at the early Transforming Realm, a full stage above Inner Strength.

"I’ll wager one hundred million on Tianlong Hall. How much will you wager, Lin Feng? Oh, I almost forgot—the minimum entry is one million. Don’t tell me you can’t even muster a million, that would truly be humiliating!"

Tian Xinyu spoke smugly, knowing full well neither the Lin nor the Yao family would fund Lin Feng. He wanted to see how this destitute, fallen young master could possibly raise such a massive sum!

Today, Tian Xinyu intended to publicly humiliate Lin Feng. Even if by some miracle Lin Feng scraped together a hundred million, he would lose it all and become a homeless dog!

"You’re just picking a fight! A million minimum? So what if you have money! Lin Feng, don’t join this bet—it’s not worth it!" Wang Lun, seeing Lin Feng about to fall into the trap, hurried to pull him back, urging him not to act rashly and jump into the fire.

Yet Lin Feng’s lips curled upwards, his voice calm:

"Sorry, a hundred million is too little. I’ll wager one billion."

"We’re not joining—wait, what? One billion! My God, Lin Feng, are you crazy?"

Wang Lun thought Lin Feng was bluffing for his life, utterly stunned, tugging frantically at Lin Feng.

One billion?

This was no ordinary joke!