Madman!

Chapter 49: Master Bing, the Culprit Has Been Found

"I'm heading to the dental clinic. What do you want for dinner?" Huang Meizhen pushed open the bedroom door.

"Anything's fine!" Chen Wuhong hurriedly stuffed his erotic magazine out of sight, answering dismissively.

"Then I'll stew a chicken tonight. Drink plenty of the broth—it'll help you recover faster!" Huang Meizhen replied with a warm smile, then grabbed her lunch box and headed out.

The moment she left, Chen Wuhong's mind started racing.

He'd been cooped up at home for over a month, and every inch of him was itching for action.

Their mother brought lunch to the dental clinic every afternoon, usually stayed to help out, then went grocery shopping on her way back in the evening.

She wouldn't be home until at least five.

Once that thought took hold, Chen Wuhong felt like a colony of ants was crawling through his stomach. The itch was unbearable.

He threw on some clothes and fished out a thousand dollars from under his mattress.

"Just a couple of quick rounds, then I'll come straight back."The moment Chen Wuhong hobbled out the door on his crutch, he noticed the weather had turned cool.

It was already early January, with daytime temperatures hovering around the low teens.

This past month and change, it was as if he'd been cut off from the world entirely.

But Chen Wuhong didn't feel the cold. All he felt right now was urgency.

"I haven't gambled in ages—my luck's bound to be through the roof!"

Not far from the entrance to Chen Wujun's building, two thugs stood smoking in an alley.

"How long are we supposed to wait here? Sitting around with nothing to do every damn day—is that guy dead or something? He hasn't come out this entire time." One of the thugs grumbled irritably. They'd both been staking out this spot for ten days straight, doing nothing but squatting here.

"Watch your mouth! I heard Brother Jun's got a gambling addict for an older brother. That should be our guy," the other thug cautioned.

"I wasn't talking about Brother Jun!" the first thug muttered resentfully, then swept his gaze down the alley. The moment he spotted Chen Wuhong hobbling along on a crutch, he jabbed his companion with an elbow.

"Hey, is that the cripple or what?"

The other thug perked up instantly, pulling a photograph from his pocket.

"That's him!"

Both thugs were buzzing with excitement now. After all that waiting, their target had finally appeared.

"Which leg are we breaking again?"

"His right leg's already busted. Hit the left one!"

The two crouched at the alley entrance, watching Chen Wuhong limp past on his crutch. Then they grabbed arm-thick wooden beams from behind them, exchanged a glance, and strode after him.

Chen Wuhong heard footsteps behind him and was just turning around when someone shoved him hard, sending him sprawling. His crutch clattered away to the side.

After knocking him down, the two thugs launched into a string of curses: "You piece of shit! A goddamn cripple and you still have the balls to hit on my woman!"

"I'm gonna break your other leg today."

"Guys, you've got the wrong person—AHHH!" Chen Wuhong heard the shouting after hitting the ground and nearly jumped out of his skin. He tried desperately to explain.

But before he could finish, both men swung their wooden beams down on his leg.

"Please! You've really got the wrong guy!" Chen Wuhong screamed, clutching his leg and rolling on the ground in agony.

"Wrong guy my ass!" One of the thugs brought the beam down on Chen Wuhong's leg again.

Then he glanced at Chen Wuhong's face. "Hold on—I think we actually did get the wrong one?"

"Wrong one nothing! It's him!" The other thug was already winding up for another swing.

"No, seriously—that guy's supposed to have a mole on his chin. This one doesn't!"

"Huh? Now that you mention it... yeah, we might've screwed up. Well, tough luck for him! His own damn fault for looking so much like that bastard!" The two thugs debated as they turned and walked away, vanishing within moments.

They left Chen Wuhong lying on the ground, face deathly pale from the pain, sweat streaming down his forehead. He waved his crutch wildly through the air, screaming at the top of his lungs:

"Go screw yourselves! You sons of bitches, drop dead!"

...

Inside the warehouse, Chen Wujun was practicing the Mud-Wading Step in the sandpit, though his mind had drifted elsewhere.

Walking through sand that reached his knees had nearly become second nature by now. His body naturally sensed the shifting direction of the sand beneath him.

'The Tiger Descending Mountain stance—every time I practice it, it stirs up this bloodlust, this craving for combat. At least the effect was strongest the first time, when I couldn't shake the urge to go find someone to fight.'

'The sessions after that still affected me, but nowhere near as intensely as that first time.'

'Then there's the fact that my build keeps getting more muscular. My family's already asked me about it a few times.'

'There's no helping it. Someone with great strength is bound to have a powerful physique. The more developed a person's muscles, the greater their strength. Those New Arts practitioners are all jacked too...'

Mid-thought, the phone in the pile of clothes beside the sandpit began to ring.

Chen Wujun launched himself upward and vaulted out of the pit. Sand cascaded off his feet, scattering across the floor.

Not many people had his number. A phone call usually meant something was up.

"Brother Jun, it's Ah Fei."

"What is it?"

"That job you ordered is done! The one about breaking someone's leg—our guys spotted the target today and broke his good leg." Ah Fei ran through the details.

"Got it!"

"How's the gambling den been doing lately?" Chen Wujun asked.

It had been a week since his last visit to the den, and he figured things should be picking up by now.

"Brother Jun, your plan was pure genius! The last couple days, the place has been getting busier and busier. Gamblers from other dens are showing up too! Yesterday we raked in over seven thousand in pure commission!" Ah Fei gave a thumbs-up on the other end of the line, his voice booming with enthusiasm.

Even though Chen Wujun couldn't see the gesture.

Ever since they'd moved the job-posting board over, day laborers looking for work had started congregating near the gambling den.

Quite a few of them were gambling addicts themselves.

With the micro-stakes tables in the den, a few workers started playing casually at first. Then word about the voucher rebates spread.

What were those vouchers? They were money.

Sure, you couldn't cash them out, but for these gambling addicts, they represented hope of breaking even.

They weren't handing out vouchers. They were handing out hope!

As word spread, the den attracted more and more customers.

Ah Fei reckoned that in a few more days, the den's daily net commission could hit ten thousand.

If Chen Wujun had merely been someone with connections who could fight, that wouldn't have been particularly impressive.

But learning about the den's situation, then coming up with an idea on the spot that instantly set the place on fire—that was what truly earned Ah Fei's admiration.

It wasn't just him, either. Even the rank-and-file thugs working the den were impressed.

After all, when business was good, everyone benefited.

"Good to hear the place is lively!" Chen Wujun replied with a grin. "Let me know if anything comes up."

After hanging up, Chen Wujun pumped his fist.

'I really am a natural-born business genius!'

The gambling den wasn't just about his monthly income—it was tied to morale and reputation.

If the den was a ghost town under his watch, what would people think? How would they see him?

Forget outsiders—even his own underlings had been moping around listlessly.

Now that the den's problems were sorted, a weight had lifted from his shoulders.

'Big brother really is a dog that can't stop eating its own filth. His leg isn't even healed yet and he's already trying to sneak out and gamble. At least this time, he'll be stuck in bed for another month or two.'

'Once he's nearly recovered, I'll have someone break his leg again.'

Chen Wujun thought this arrangement was quite satisfactory.

This way, his brother wouldn't rack up another mountain of loan shark debt. He could stay home every day, be a good son to their parents, read some books, watch some TV.

Everyone would be happy.

The warehouse door swung open, and Zhou Qing walked in from outside.

"Master!" Chen Wujun immediately tossed his phone aside and hurried over.

Zhou Qing appraised Chen Wujun's frame and could tell at a glance that the young man had been putting in serious work these past days.

With Zhou Qing's trained eye, even the slightest change in Chen Wujun's body was instantly apparent.

Chen Wujun's upper body was gradually taking on a crane-like form—his lats spreading wider and wider—while his waist and legs had grown broader and thicker than before.

These were the changes wrought by the Crane Form and Tiger Form stances.

"Today I'll teach you Spirit Ape Hanging on Beam. This stance is based on the 'Ape Form' of Through-Back Fist, combined with the suspended-crown force of Taiji. This stance stretches the tendons and draws out power, channeling force to all four extremities. Once you've mastered it, you'll have achieved the upper tier of Body Forging."

Chen Wujun's eyes lit up with undisguised anticipation.

'Just as I suspected—heavy and light, hard and soft! Once all four stances are mastered, the foundation is complete. After that, it's just a matter of grinding and refinement!'

Though it was a grinding process, Chen Wujun felt his progress was still remarkably fast.

Ever since he'd begun training in martial arts, his skills had advanced at breakneck speed.

Even faster than those practicing New Arts.

He'd never quite understood why others struggled to learn, or why so few people studied Old Arts.

...

At a teahouse outside the Walled City, Master Bing placed a bag on the table.

"Uncle Wu, here's your share for this month. Two million total—go ahead and count it."

"I've told you before, you don't need to do this anymore. I just came to have some tea and chat. After all these years of friendship, our relationship goes beyond money." The man called Uncle Wu wore a tailored suit and appeared roughly the same age as Master Bing.

Moments later, Master Bing personally escorted Uncle Wu downstairs, flanked by his subordinates.

Every one of his men wore expressions of deep respect. They all knew that Uncle Wu had once been Master Bing's biggest financial backer.

It was Uncle Wu's money and support that had given Master Bing the capital he needed to build his empire.

All these years, Uncle Wu was the one person Master Bing respected above all others.

Even though, over the decades, Master Bing had repaid Uncle Wu tens—if not hundreds—of times over, and Uncle Wu had insisted he no longer needed a share of the profits.

Yet Master Bing still delivered dividends every single month, calculated at the same percentage as their original agreement.

After Uncle Wu departed, Master Bing was preparing to leave the teahouse himself.

One of his men rushed to his side. "Master Bing, we found them!"

"We've identified who carried out the hit in the Walled City!"

"Who? Where are they?" Master Bing whipped his head around, his gaze turning cold enough to freeze blood.