The corporate dinner party bled into a late, humid night. The forced laughter and clinking glasses faded behind them as Su Yang walked Wang Lihua home. The city's neon glow painted the quiet streets in surreal colors, a stark contrast to the tense silence between them. The unspoken questions about President Leng hung heavy in the air, a wall Lihua couldn't bring herself to breach.
Finally, as they turned onto her dimly lit street, the weight of the evening pressed down on her. The image of Manager Li's cold, calculating stare from across the ballroom resurfaced.
"He's going to try something, isn't he?" Lihua's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper, laced with a fatigue that went deeper than physical tiredness. "Manager Li. I saw the way he was looking at me."
Su Yang nodded, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe. "His authority feels threatened. Your competence, combined with his own insecurity, makes you a target. He will look for a way to discredit you."
To his surprise, Lihua let out a soft, bitter laugh. "I know. I'm not naive, Su Yang. In a company like that, you learn to read the shadows. I've seen him do it to others." She hugged her arms around herself. "I just… I can't afford to lose this job. Not with Grandpa…" She trailed off, the unspoken responsibility a familiar anchor of dread.
They reached the door of the old building that housed her apartment and her grandfather's shop. She turned to face him, the faint light from a streetlamp catching the confusion in her eyes.
"My mind… it's been so clear lately. Since… you know." She gestured vaguely, unable to say *since you touched me*. "It's like I can see the patterns, the moves before they're made. I know he's plotting. But knowing and stopping it are two different things."
She hesitated, the question that had been burning inside her all evening finally breaking free. "But that's not what's really bothering me." She took a shaky breath. "You and President Leng… 'We meet again'? How? Where? She's… she's like a different species from the rest of us. And you…" Her eyes scanned his simple attire. "The old CEO never cared what anyone wore. And Manager Li is too scared of you now to say anything. But her? She's a perfectionist. She notices everything. Why would she allow it? It's like… it's like she doesn't just allow it, it's like she…" Lihua struggled for the word, her intuition, sharpened by the absorbed Yang Qi, picking up on subtleties others missed. "…*accepts* it. Almost expects it."
Little did she know, the very Yang Qi that was sharpening her intuition was also weaving a subtle, deep-seated connection. Her spirit, nourished by his energy, was beginning to subconsciously recognize Su Yang as a source of comfort, strength, and safety—a companion on a level she couldn't rationally explain. The confusion she felt was the clash between this nascent, profound bond and the illogical reality that he and the formidable President Leng seemed to share a history that defied all reason.
Su Yang met her gaze. The truth—a chance encounter over a lost data stick—was too flimsy, too mundane to explain the electric recognition that had passed between him and Leng Xue. Anything he said would only deepen the mystery.
"Some connections are not what they appear, Lihua," he said, his voice calm and infuriatingly enigmatic. "Focus on the threat you can see. Be careful with Manager Li. Document everything."
It was a non-answer, and she knew it. Frustration warred with the strange, compelling trust she felt in his presence. With a final, confused look, she nodded and disappeared inside.
Su Yang watched the door close, then turned to make his way back to his own apartment. He took a shortcut through a series of narrow, poorly lit alleys that were a stark contrast to the well-maintained streets he'd just left.
He was only a few blocks in when he felt them. Four sets of eyes, predatory and focused, emerging from the shadows. They moved with a practiced, street-level coordination, blocking both ends of the alley. They were members of the local nuisance, the Grey Wolf Gang, known for petty extortion and strong-arm tactics. Their leader, a hulking brute with a wolf tattoo on his neck, stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" the leader sneered. "A little monk lost on his way to the temple? This is a toll road, friend. Empty those pockets. That fancy robe might be worth something."
Su Yang stopped walking. He didn't turn, didn't assume a fighting stance. He simply stood there, his back to three of them, facing the leader. His calmness was more insulting than any defiance.
"I do not carry money," Su Yang stated, his voice flat.
"No money?" another thug laughed. "Then what good are you? Maybe we just take our frustration out on your pretty face."
The leader took a step closer. "Listen, you little freak. We've had a bad night. You're gonna make it better. Now, are you gonna pay, or do we have to teach you a lesson?"
Su Yang remained silent, a statue of indifference.
The leader's patience snapped. "Fine. Have it your way." He nodded to the thug behind Su Yang. "Teach him some manners."
The thug lunged, swinging a heavy chain he'd been concealing.
Su Yang didn't even look. His body moved with imperceptible speed. He sidestepped the swing, his hand snapping out and catching the chain mid-air. With a gentle tug that belied impossible strength, he pulled the thug off balance and sent him crashing into a stack of overflowing trash cans with a deafening clatter. The man didn't get up.
The other two thugs stared, stunned for a second, then roared and charged simultaneously.
Su Yang moved between them like a ghost. A precise, open-handed strike to the first one's sternum transmitted a shockwave of Yang Qi that knocked the breath from his lungs and sent him flying backward to land in a groaning heap. The second received a light tap on the temple from Su Yang's finger. It was enough to disrupt his neural equilibrium; his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed like a sack of potatoes.
The entire fight lasted less than three seconds.
The gang leader stood frozen, his bravado evaporated, replaced by raw, primal fear. He fumbled for a knife at his belt. "Y-you… what are you?"
Su Yang finally turned to fully face him. His expression was still calm, but his eyes now held a glint of something ancient and terrifying. "I am someone you do not want to anger."
The leader, driven by panic, made his last mistake. He brandished the knife and spat, "You'll pay for that, you son of a bitch! I'll find your mother and—"
He never finished the sentence.
The air around Su Yang grew cold. The gentle hum of the city seemed to vanish. The insult to his mother—the mother he never knew, the sacred, unknown figure of his origin—was a key turned in a lock that should have remained closed.
His movement was a blur. There was no technique, no finesse. It was pure, controlled power. He crossed the distance between them in the time it took the thug to blink. His hand closed around the wrist holding the knife. There was a sickening, wet *crunch* as the bones splintered into dust. The knife clattered to the ground.
Before the man could even scream, Su Yang's other hand shot out, gripping his throat and lifting him off his feet, slamming him against the brick wall of the alley. The man's feet dangled a foot off the ground, his eyes bulging in terror, his broken hand hanging uselessly.
"You speak of things you cannot comprehend," Su Yang's voice was low, a vibration that seemed to come from the earth itself. It was no longer the voice of an intern. It was the voice of the Yin-Yang Envoy, delivering judgment. "Your existence is a blight on this city. Your extortion, your violence—it ends tonight."
He leaned in closer, his eyes glowing with a faint, internal light. "You will tell your master. You will tell every member of your pathetic pack. Your operations in this district will cease. Permanently. If I hear so much as a whisper of the Grey Wolf Gang again, the consequences will not be a broken wrist. They will be absolute. Do you understand?"
The gang leader, tears of pain and terror streaming down his face, could only manage a frantic, gurgling nod.
Su Yang released him. The man crumpled to the ground, clutching his ruined wrist, gasping for air.
Without another word or glance, Su Yang stepped over the groaning forms of the other thugs and continued his walk home, leaving a scene of broken bones and shattered confidence in his wake. The alley returned to silence, the only sound the pained whimpers of men who had, for the first time, truly encountered something they could not bully or steal from. They had encountered a force of nature.