C8 Lets Make a Deal!!
Bang!
The conference room door burst open as a dozen strapping young men filed in, one after the other. Trained and efficient, they immediately seized control of the room. A group of four or five, exuding aggression, blocked Chu Yun's escape route, clearly skilled in martial arts.
Their leader, a man in his thirties with a buzz cut, was muscular and stood about six feet tall. His hands were calloused, his expression icy. After surveying the room, he strode into the lounge and summoned Mrs. Han.
"Boss, I need some guidance," the buzz-cut man asked calmly.
The Han family owned the largest share of the bodyguard company, making Mrs. Han effectively the co-boss. Now that she had been attacked and insulted, it was a failure on their part.
How could they maintain their reputation if they didn't retaliate?
"Do whatever you think is necessary," Mrs. Han said, her face twisted with rage, her voice chilling. "Just make sure he's still breathing when you hand him over."
"Understood."
The young man nodded, then turned and approached Chu Yun.
With a swift gesture, the scattered suit-clad men swiftly encircled Chu Yun.
And there was Su Mingyue.
"Ruin her face."
The command was chilling, the intent behind it savage.
To mar the face of a beautiful actress was an act more brutal than murder.
Yet the suited bodyguard near Su Mingyue didn't hesitate. As the words were uttered, he pounced like a tiger unleashed.
A gleam of white flashed in the dimly lit conference room—a foldable military knife, the instrument of disfigurement.
Gasps filled the air. Xue Chaoqing, the entertainment mogul, reacted most strongly; a single slash would mean the loss of his one hundred million investment.
Chen Xiuling was petrified, eyes tightly shut, while most others were weak-kneed and drenched in sweat.
The knife-wielding man in the suit closed in on Su Mingyue.
But the blade halted abruptly, a mere five centimeters from her exquisite face.
With a resounding crack, Chu Yun's unyielding fingers mercilessly crushed the wrist of the man in the suit. Using the momentum, he twisted and brutally snapped the man's entire arm, resulting in an unmistakable fracture dislocation. It was evident to even the most uninformed observer that this was no simple break; the bones that connected the man's arm to his shoulder were completely torn apart, leaving only skin and flesh intact.
A scream of agony pierced the air, but within a mere five seconds, the young man collapsed, unconscious from the pain. Chu Yun's strikes were merciless and devastatingly effective.
"Attack!" barked the crew-cut youth, his face dark with anger yet betraying a flicker of doubt in his eyes.
Seven or eight young men in suits charged in succession, all aiming for Su Mingyue. But their efforts were futile; before they could even get close, they were shattered on the spot by Chu Yun's relentless assault.
Chu Yun's attacks were swift, precise, and fierce, reminiscent of a thug who had tasted blood on the blade's edge.
Thud.
In under three minutes, the last of the crew-cut youth's men hit the floor. His left side bore two broken ribs, and his right knee was shattered beyond repair—a sight of sheer brutality.
The confrontation was a lopsided battle of the few against the many.
To the onlookers, the brash young men stood no chance. They were swiftly and decisively laid out by Chu Yun, who employed lethal tactics, targeting vital points with each strike.
The crew-cut youth, with eight years of professional experience, was utterly horrified. He was acutely aware that the beating they'd received at Chu Yun's hands likely spelled the end of their professional careers.
Who was this man?
Why were his actions so resolute?
The crew-cut youth sensed an aura of death emanating from Chu Yun, the kind of presence only those with blood on their hands could command.
"It's your turn," Chu Yun said calmly, his gaze settling on the crew-cut youth.
The leader usually makes the last stand, and with his men defeated, it was his moment to act. Yet, instinctively, he took two steps back.
His extensive career had honed his ability to assess situations accurately, and he knew that against Chu Yun's formidable strength, even three or five of him combined would stand no chance.
Emerging from a heap of corpses, he could confront death with a certain composure, yet he harbored an even deeper fear of it.
He shook his head and retreated two more steps.
This gesture signaled weakness and a relinquishment of vengeance. Though he didn't beg for mercy, his actions spoke volumes.
"Too late."
Chu Yun moved with deliberate steps, each one seeming to press down on the young man's heart.
"A man can endure some hardship, some disadvantage," Chu Yun advanced, his gaze icy and detached. "But to let one's woman be mistreated? Absolutely not."
Bang!
Chu Yun's leg, like a rod of iron, crashed into the youth's chest.
The young man collapsed with a cry, blood gushing wildly. It was as if he had been struck by a massive blow, his limbs splayed, his chest tight, and his head throbbing.
"Stand up."
The chilling edge in Chu Yun's voice was unmistakable.
Though devoid of emotion, it carried an authority that could not be defied.
The young man rose, his body nearly coming apart at the seams. He knew that standing might just spare his life. To resist would mean facing even more brutal retribution.
"My wife is a star in the entertainment industry. Do you realize what defacing her means?"
With a flick, Chu Yun lit a cigarette, then picked up the folding military knife from the ground. He flipped it casually in his hand before offering it to the young man.
The crowd was baffled by this move.
Why would he hand the weapon to the young man?
Struggling immensely, the youth glanced at Chu Yun, his face etched with desperation. "Bro, can you spare me?"
"One hand," Chu Yun's lips barely parted, his tone devilish.
Trembling, the youth took the folding knife, yet found himself paralyzed.
He had sought to ruin Su Mingyue's career and life.
Now, Chu Yun demanded his hand in vengeance.
Time seemed to freeze in that moment.
From the corner of his eye, Chu Yun caught sight of Su Mingyue's visage, unsettled by the gruesome scene before her.
A flicker of emotion crossed his heart, and he spoke with a detached tone, "Let's strike a deal."
"Sure." The crew-cut young man agreed instantly.
If it meant getting out in one piece, he was ready to do whatever it took.
"You've marred your boss's face," Chu Yun remarked, glancing at the astonished Mrs. Han. "But I forgive you."
"Alright!"
With no hesitation, the crew-cut youth gripped the folding military knife and advanced toward Mrs. Han.
"You scoundrel, what are you doing!?" Mrs. Han's face paled with fear.
For a woman, her appearance is her second life; to be disfigured is akin to being obliterated.
"I'm sorry, boss," the young man said as he approached, the blade of the folding knife nearing Mrs. Han's cheek. "I don't have a choice."
But he did have a choice.
He chose self-preservation over loyalty to Mrs. Han.
He had started his company to make money and to stand out.
If he were to lose a hand today, he would become worthless. And the Han family would scorn him for his failure.
The folding knife punctured Mrs. Han's well-cared-for face, and with just a twitch of the young man's wrist, a scar as grotesque as a centipede's trail would remain.