Under the Cheongsam Skirt - Chapter 31

The salty sea wind howled in the distance, rattling the corrugated metal containers with an eerie, bone-chilling clatter.

This area was used as a storage zone, the towering containers forming a labyrinthine maze. Under normal circumstances, idlers might have lounged here to escape the heat, but tonight, the place was unnervingly empty—cleared out in advance.

Facing him were at least thirteen or fourteen thugs. Their leader, a young man barely in his twenties, wore a plain undershirt and slacks. He eyed Xu Xing with a smirk, his tone dripping with sarcasm:
“Lawyer Xu. We’ve heard so much about you.”

Xu Xing calmly undid his cufflinks, his gaze unreadable. “You know me?”

“Of course we do. Who around here doesn’t know you?” The leader chuckled darkly. “One word from you, and the entire Qingshan Society trembles. You’ve put a lot of us out of work. You really think that doesn’t make you a target?”

Xu Xing narrowed his eyes. “So what do you want?”

“What do I want?” The leader’s grin widened as he drew a knife from his side, taking two deliberate steps forward. “I don’t care who’s backing you in Qingshan. But tonight, you’re leaving here missing a leg. Play nice, Lawyer Xu, and it’ll just hurt. Fight back, and it’ll be so much worse.”

A vicious glint flashed in his eyes as he barked at his men: “Get him!!”

The thugs lunged as one. Xu Xing’s gaze swept the surroundings—then he bolted toward the nearest container, using his momentum to vault onto its roof.

Curses erupted as chaos engulfed the scene.

“Don’t let him escape!”

“Cut him off on the other side!”

One thug scrambled up after him, swinging a wooden baton. Xu Xing sidestepped, seized his wrist, and yanked him forward—driving a knee into his gut with brutal precision.

The man crumpled, but Xu Xing wasn’t done. Grabbing his collar, he hauled him up like a human shield just as another thug’s baton came crashing down.

CRACK!

The blow shattered the man’s shoulder blade, his screams piercing the night.

The remaining thugs hesitated, unnerved by Xu Xing’s ruthless efficiency. One retreated two steps—only for Xu Xing to close the distance in a flash, wrenching the baton from his grip and smashing it across his skull.

Blood sprayed.

It had taken less than a breath. The latecomers barely processed what happened before their comrades were writhing on the ground, while Xu Xing stood untouched—save for a few flecks of blood on his sleeve.

Fear flickered through the group, but they rallied with false bravado. “Charge together! He can’t take us all at once!”

“Yeah! Move!!”
The last light had faded, leaving only a lone flickering lamp. The young leader remained on the ground, watching as Xu Xing moved like a specter across the containers—every strike drawing blood.

Then, without warning, Xu Xing leapt down.

The leader barely registered the movement before a crushing kick sent him flying.

Pure terror seized him. He tried to rise, but dizziness pinned him in place. Through blurred vision, he saw Xu Xing approach—cold, untouchable—and step on the knife he’d dropped.

Just then, police sirens wailed in the distance.

The thugs scattered, but a single gunshot BOOMED through the air, freezing them in their tracks.

Ten heavily armed officers swarmed the scene, cuffing and dragging men away with practiced efficiency. One nodded to Xu Xing. “Need assistance?”

“I’m fine.”

Xu Xing looked down at the leader, now trembling at his feet.

“Whose… whose side are you on?” the man rasped through chattering teeth.

Xu Xing’s voice was ice. “New here? If you’d come two years earlier… you might’ve met me.”