552: I Will Sell Myself to You, Alright?
552: I Will Sell Myself to You, Alright?
Editor: TheSloth “Useless!
A bunch of useless bastards!!
Four of you and you still couldn’t handle one guy.
All of you e back banged up!”
Zhang Kun was pissed!
Staring at his boys in front of him, he was even more pissed!!
“Boss, you don’t know, that foreigner’s stick moves are insane!
We swung crowbars at him, still couldn’t keep up.
Look at him—look at his shoulder, bet it’s ruined!”
Zhang Kun frowned.
The guy hurt the worst was still out cold, but peeling back his shirt and seeing that wound, even Zhang Kun felt a chill crawl down his spine.
“You, get him to the doc—” Zhang Kun waved his hand, then quickly changed his mind: “Wait!
Not the one in town!
Hop on your bike, go to the next town, don’t get patched up here.
If the doc asks, tell him it was a motorcycle accident, got it?”
“Got it, Boss!”
Zhang Kun had zero intention of using those two wax pellets he scored off that mystery dude…
Shit like that, he figured, was wasted on his goons!
“Motherfucker!
That foreigner can brawl, huh?” Watching them leave, Zhang Kun sat down, still pissed.
The last two boys hurried to pour him a cup of water.
“Bro, I’m telling you, that foreigner ain’t simple…
Maybe best we don’t mess with him after all?”
Bullying the weak, fearing the strong—that’s always been their go-to standard.
He scowled, then sneered: “Besides, Bro, if you really want San Er’s fine little ass, we can just snatch her up for you, quiet like.
Then you do whatever you want.
When you’re tired of her, just dump her back—what’s a widow gonna do?
Run around telling people?
Ain’t no one gives a shit!”
“What’s the point of that?” Zhang Kun snorted coldly.
“Bunch of clueless idiots!
Out, out, get the hell out, stop getting on my nerves!”
The two looked at each other, their wrists still throbbing with pain.
Hearing that, like hell they wanted to stay, so they went off to lick their wounds somewhere else.
Zhang Kun sat there alone, drinking a bottle of Jiujiang, munching on some peanuts…
But halfway through, he couldn’t taste a thing, so he slammed everything off the table and onto the floor.
“Looks like you fucked up, huh.”
“You again!”
The split second he heard that voice, Zhang Kun shot a deadly glare over—and like clockwork, that guy in the trench coat was standing right there at the window.
This time, it was his own house’s window.
Zhang Kun stormed over, fuming: “I did what you asked!
And for what?
I got jack shit out of it!
My boys got trashed!
You never said that foreigner was such a pain in the ass!!”
Trench coat…
Nero chuckled low, twice.
“Stupid?
If it was easy, you think I’d pay you with that kind of medicine?
You actually think goodies just fall out of the sky?”
Zhang Kun finally held himself back: “Just give it to me straight!
Who the hell is that foreigner?”
Nero chuckled again, deep and low.
Zhang Kun snapped: “What the hell are you laughing at!”
Nero, mocking: “Laughing at what a loser you are.
Look at you now, nowhere to vent, just sulking…
Oh, by the way, I just passed that tofu shop, heard a racket inside—totally wild, man and woman, tsk, tsk.
Want to go check it out?
Bet they’re still at it.”
“You…” With eyes wide as oxen, Zhang Kun reached straight through the window frame, grabbing for Nero’s throat.
But he had no clue what kind of monster he was reaching for.
Nero didn’t even use her hands, just pressed his arm down with that tube she carried—pinned Zhang Kun’s arm right onto the window ledge…
Pressed it hard!
Zhang Kun broke out in a cold sweat from the pain, arm feeling like it was about to snap.
He stared, horrified—this bitch’s strength was unreal!
Nero said coolly, “I’m done talking circles: what I asked you to do was only meant to make the tofu shop woman crack under the rumors and ditch Kuck.
But you dumbasses bombed it.
Now I have to improvise.”
“Wh-what do you want me to do?”
Nero said, “As long as Kuck’s around, you ain’t ever getting San Er.
Believe me?”
Of course, even if Kuck wasn’t here, you still wouldn’t get San Er…
But she wasn’t about to point that out.
“You want me to…
knock him off?” A flash of viciousness in Zhang Kun’s eyes—just hesitation, not fear.
“No, you lot can’t handle him.” Nero shook her head.
“Just lure him out for me…
If you can piss him off, even better.
In the end, I’ll take care of him myself.”
Angry, even berserk—the Lord of Thousand Thorns Javelin…
Just picturing Kuck in that state made Nero let out a dark, mad chuckle.
This rage and madness—if Kuck was in his right mind, there’s no way you could pull it off.
They were both Club fighters, and Nero knew full well how impenetrable Kuck’s nearly flawless State of Mind was.
With that, Nero shoved Zhang Kun onto the floor with her tube, spun around and left: “If you still want your perks, and your little San Er, do what I say.
Otherwise…
no telling what’ll happen next.”
Zhang Kun scrambled up, terrified.
But the visitor was nowhere to be seen…
in like a ghost, out like a shadow.
…
“Ah…
I can’t wait.”
Bathed in moonlight, Nero perched at the edge of someone else’s rooftop and stretched lazily, then suddenly turned around.
She unzipped her leather jacket down to her stomach before stopping—and inside, it wasn’t normal underwear, just layers of white cloth strips wrapped tight.
Turns out she was binding her chest with bandages.
She dug around, clawing under the bandages for a while before fishing out a black card.
Nero stood up, zipped up, and tapped the Burning Black Card with her finger, grinning: “Boss, Boss, can you hear me?”
But Nero waited a while, and nothing happened—the card didn’t react at all.
She grumbled: “Hmm…
Maybe there’s a range limit?
Ah, going back is a pain…
Or not!”
And just then, Nero turned—standing behind her, who else but the new club owner himself, Luo Qiu?
“Ms.
Nero, good evening.” Luo Qiu said gently.
“Anything you needed?”
“Got business for you.” Nero narrowed her eyes, licked the black card, then smiled seductively: “Want to take the job?”
“Of course,” Boss Luo nodded, “We never turn down a customer’s request.”
“Aha, what a good Boss.” Nero winked.
“I was just thinking, if the day es I can’t cut it anymore, how about selling myself to you?
Think you’d protect me?”
“Of course, as long as that’s your request, Ms.
Nero.” — Boss Luo’s answer, as formal as ever.
“Thanks.”
Nero didn’t mind at all.
Instead, she swiped her finger across her lips, blowing another—utterly worthless—kiss to this enigmatic Boss.
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