At the black-shirted man's shout, Victor Wen and his crew felt a jolt in their guts—this was about to get real ugly.
Sure enough, as soon as Blackshirt finished yelling, a rush of footsteps echoed out from the pitch-black alley.
Seconds later, more than a dozen shirtless bruisers came swaggering out, each one gripping a heavy wrench.
Every one of them had a fierce, thuggish look as they stomped over, closing in on the group.
"Yo, Blackshirt! What's the deal?"
One guy with a booming voice shouted as he hustled over, his eyes lingering on Yolanda Jiang with a greedy, hungry look.
"These punks hit Dog and now wanna bail! What do you say, boys?" Blackshirt yelled.
"Hell no! You hit someone and think you can just dip? Dream on!" one of the thugs behind Blackshirt shouted.
"You wanna run? Better ask if the brothers agree!"
"We’re not the kind you mess with!"
The whole crowd was hyped up, voices booming everywhere.
Yolanda Jiang’s face changed a little when she saw this lineup—she wasn’t used to this kind of street brawl.
Victor Wen glanced at the weapons in the guys’ hands—his face went pale, legs shaking, but he still couldn’t help yelling, "You call this not a scam? Who walks around with this junk at night unless they’re trying to set people up!"
"I’m a mechanic. Carrying a wrench is normal, isn’t it? You got a problem with that?" The thug with the wrench glared at Victor Wen, cursing him out.
"What about you with the cleaver?" Victor’s heart skipped as he looked at the guy holding a kitchen knife—the cold gleam made his skin crawl.
"I’m a cook, man. Cooks carry knives—what’s weird about that?" the guy shot back, face hard.
Another guy with a pig-sticker scowled, "I’m a butcher, damn it! Carrying a pig knife’s normal. They call me Midnight Pig Butcher—I love chopping pigs at midnight. Wanna come watch?"
The thugs closed in, surrounding Victor Wen and his crew—no way they were letting this end peacefully.
"Didn’t you act tough ‘cause you had numbers? Look at you now—faces all swollen like Pighead Three, still wanna play hero?" Blackshirt sneered at Victor Wen.
"Just spit it out—how much do you want?"
Yolanda Jiang steadied herself, ready to settle things quietly—this wasn’t the place for logic or reason.
"How much? My brother’s leg got busted—he’s crippled for life. You folks drive such nice cars, so I won’t ask much. Just fifty grand, easy."
Blackshirt grinned wide, totally smug.
"Fifty grand?!"
Yolanda Jiang’s eyes went wide. Victor Wen couldn’t help cursing, "Are you kidding? Even if we killed him, it wouldn’t cost that much! You’re obviously running a scam—think I won’t call the cops on you?"
"Call the cops? Go ahead. Wanna bet who’s faster—the police, or my boys with their hardware?" Blackshirt sneered coldly.
Inside the car.
Claire Li looked worried, watching Yolanda Jiang and the others through the rearview. When the bruisers showed up and surrounded them, Claire finally couldn’t sit still.
She glanced at Ivy Liang in the passenger seat and said, "You two just stay put in the car, don’t get out. I’ll go see what’s happening."
With that, Claire Li stepped out, clutching her Gucci purse and forcing herself to look calm as she headed into the crowd.
Ivy Liang, still in the car, watched the scene unfold in the rearview mirror. She glanced at the boy in the back seat, who hadn’t budged an inch, and frowned. "Hey, you’re seriously just gonna sit there? Something’s happening and you’re glued to your seat?"
She was already in a bad mood today. Seeing Yolanda Jiang get into trouble made her even more annoyed. And that boy in the back, acting like nothing was wrong, just pissed her off more.
They gave you a ride to the city out of kindness, and now you just sit there while they’re being scammed? Even if you can’t fight or pay, at least get out and stand there for moral support, right?
Evan Lin glanced at her and said coolly, "This level of trash isn’t even worth me lifting a finger."
"Not worth your time? Who do you think you are? Please."
Ivy Liang scoffed. "If you’re scared, just admit it. Spare us the excuses!"
With that, Ivy Liang yanked open the door, grabbed her cat, and stormed out to the back of the car.
Evan Lin shook his head. He hadn’t planned to get involved in this kind of petty mess—it had nothing to do with him, and helping out might just bring more trouble.
Ivy Liang ran over just in time to hear Blackshirt’s booming voice.
"Fifty grand’s not enough? Fine, I changed my mind—make it a hundred thousand! You see this girl’s purse? All designer. With that kind of cash, giving my brother a cushy life is no problem, right?"