C7 Overestimating His Own Abilities

The banquet hall fell silent in an instant.

Who would dare to stand up for Yang Yi at such a moment?

Was this person seeking their own demise?

As the commotion caught their attention, the guests on the viewing platform began to emerge one by one.

In addition to Liu Hao and the director from Xinghong Trade, several muscular bodyguards in black attire appeared. They positioned themselves behind Jia Zihao, hands clasped behind their backs, giving Ye Yu an icy stare.

Clad in slippers, baggy shorts, and a yellowed tank top, he looked every bit the part of a street beggar.

"Why did they let a beggar in here? What is going on with the Yangcheng Hotel?" Luo Xinghong complained, reaching for his phone to alert the hotel's front desk.

"Scram, you beggar! You're asking for trouble!"

Liu Hao feigned ignorance of Ye Yu, worried that any association might jeopardize the investment deal.

Despite the intimidating stares, Ye Yu remained unfazed, his gaze fixed solely on Yang Yi as he steadily approached her.

"This good-for-nothing! Young Master Jia, let me give him a thrashing for you!"

Liu Hao shoved the contract into his companion's arms and positioned himself in front of Ye Yu, ready to confront him.

Having practiced Taekwondo since childhood and now a third-degree black belt, Liu Hao was confident he could easily handle the seemingly frail Ye Yu.

Ye Yu appeared so slight that he looked as though he couldn't stand up to a strong breeze.

Liu Hao limbered up, his face twisted into a snarl, "You wretch, apologize to Young Master Jia right now and get out, or you're going to regret it today."

Jia Zihao lounged in his chair, legs crossed, watching the unfolding drama with a smirk. He was clearly relishing the adulation.

The sensation of being revered was undeniably thrilling!

"So, this poor guy is actually willing to cross Young Master Jia for you. Is that why you recommended him for a job at the Yangquan Wine Cellar?"

The woman's gaze shifted back and forth between Yang Yi and Ye Yu.

A woman's intuition is keen; she had noticed on the drive over how Yang Yi would occasionally steal glances at Ye Yu, her eyes filled with a wistful sadness. It seemed there was more to their relationship than met the eye.

Now, this underdog had boldly stepped up, ready to challenge Young Master Jia for Yang Yi's sake.

Was he a fearless novice or a love-struck madman? She couldn't tell.

Shu Shuang appraised Ye Yu once more, a smirk playing on her lips. "He's probably a madman. We're in for quite the spectacle today!"

"Why all the chatter? Break his arm and I'll throw in an extra five million!" Jia Zihao said, clearly growing impatient with Liu Hao's babbling.

Liu Hao, always one to see dollar signs, had initially hoped Ye Yu would simply back down. But with the promise of money, his intentions turned sinister.

As Ye Yu's attention was fixed on Yang Yi, Liu Hao stepped back and launched a spinning kick at Ye Yu's left arm.

The kick, powered by the momentum of his spin, was incredibly forceful, capable of breaking Ye Yu's arm with a single blow.

The tension was palpable as everyone squinted, anticipating Ye Yu's fall and cries of pain.

But in that instant, a glint of cold light flashed in Ye Yu's eyes, chilling the air as if turning July into the dead of winter, sending shivers down everyone's spine.

Simultaneously, Ye Yu's figure blurred, and with a swift afterimage, he not only evaded Liu Hao's kick but also positioned himself protectively beside Yang Yi.

Liu Hao, having missed his target and overexerted himself, twisted his waist and crashed to the ground, howling in agony.

"Out of your league!" Ye Yu's icy retort sent a wave of bone-chilling cold through the crowd.

Sensing trouble, two bodyguards in black swiftly positioned themselves on either side of Jia Zihao, bracing for defense.

Shu Shuang's mouth hung open in astonishment.

She hadn't expected Ye Yu to be such an enigma, yet she scoffed at the thought. In Yangcheng, no matter how skilled, crossing Young Master Jia meant not surviving the night—even if one were a supreme immortal.