Chapter Fifty-Three: Rear-End

At present, Jiang Xiaotian was riding a wave of popularity. Just as he was about to leave Beihai, Brother Long called to ask if he needed a ride. Jiang Xiaotian even began to suspect there might be a tracker installed on his car.

When Brother Long learned that Jiang Xiaotian intended to head to Jiangzhou, his excitement grew. He had already used Jiang Xiaotian’s reputation to build some businesses there, turning a tidy profit. The structure of Jiangzhou was much like that of Beihai or Linhai—an economically developed city, but martial arts weren’t particularly prominent. Still, there were always martial artists to be found, and Jiang Xiaotian’s name was equally renowned in Jiangzhou’s martial arts world.

Word had spread about the Linhai Martial Arts Tournament, where a young man at the peak of external force had slain a master of internal force. Such an act of defeating someone above one’s level was remarkable enough, but to reach the pinnacle of internal force at such a young age was exceedingly rare. Many were curious about what kind of person Jiang Xiaotian was, and as his subordinate, Brother Long naturally treated him with great respect.

Brother Long had everything meticulously arranged and rushed over to hand Jiang Xiaotian a card. Jiang Xiaotian examined it closely but couldn’t quite figure out what it was, though he could tell it was something valuable.

“This is a membership card for the Jiangzhou Platinum Hotel,” Brother Long said, his tone mysterious and tinged with pride. “Not like the regular ones—there are only two in existence. Showing this card is as good as showing up in person, and all expenses are waived.”

Jiang Xiaotian was somewhat surprised. Even though he was no stranger to poverty, he’d heard of the Platinum Hotel—it was one of the most luxurious spots in Jiangzhou! Who would have thought Brother Long had grown so formidable?

Perhaps sensing his doubt, Brother Long chuckled, “I’m a shareholder in that hotel. Otherwise, how could I have so much sway in Beihai?”

Now Jiang Xiaotian understood. No wonder Brother Long wielded such influence despite staying in the old district, and had managed to expand so easily in Jiangzhou—it turned out he was a shareholder in the Platinum Hotel.

Jiang Xiaotian didn’t stand on ceremony; there was no reason to turn down such a fortuitous gift. Brother Long, seeing the card accepted, finally felt at ease. After all, he knew the value of a true backer far surpassed that of a simple membership card.

Of course, he didn’t say anything foolish like “if you run into trouble, just use my name.” Such bravado might sound impressive to others, but saying it to Jiang Xiaotian would only make him look like a fool.

Jiang Xiaotian thanked Brother Long and quickly set off.

His uncle had already called several times, intending to pick him up at the station, but Jiang Xiaotian declined—this time, he was driving himself home.

Throughout the journey, Ling’er seemed to be in unusually high spirits. Curiously, she never got carsick in sports cars, and spent the trip gazing out the window and humming to herself. When they first met, she’d been cold and somewhat naïve, like an old soul untouched by the world. Yet after a few months, she was no different from any other modern girl.

Still, with her striking height, enviable figure, and unique aura, she could easily be mistaken for the daughter of some wealthy household.

Ling’er had always been indifferent to worldly affairs, but now she was brimming with curiosity, eager to know about Jiang Xiaotian’s uncle’s family. With no way out, Jiang Xiaotian began to explain.

She listened, then pursed her lips in annoyance. Back when he was in school, his uncle only gave him two hundred yuan a month for living expenses. Though all his tuition was paid, surviving on two hundred a month was a tall order.

Yet his uncle’s family was by no means poor—luxury cars, Western-style villas, and a company to their name. But Jiang Xiaotian understood his uncle’s circumstances: practically a son-in-law living in his wife’s family home, with little status and less money. Even the two hundred he gave Jiang Xiaotian was hard-won through thrift.

Ling’er, raised as a pampered heiress, could never understand this, so there was little use in explaining further.

Perhaps because Jiang Xiaotian was driving fast, they arrived in Jiangzhou in less than two hours. Ling’er didn’t much care for the environment and occasionally frowned in discomfort.

“The spiritual energy here is even weaker than in Beihai. I don’t like it,” she said, wrinkling her nose as if sniffing out the air’s quality.

If Jiang Xiaotian hadn’t been from here, she wouldn’t have bothered coming—dragons were notoriously particular about their surroundings.

Jiang Xiaotian could sense it too. Ever since he’d learned how to manipulate spiritual energy, his sensitivity to it had grown sharper. Jiangzhou had numerous chemical plants, probably resulting in heavier pollution and thinner spiritual energy.

No wonder the city was wealthier than Beihai, yet had even fewer martial artists, and those that did exist were weaker.

They continued chatting and laughing, Jiang Xiaotian half-wondering if this counted as dangerous driving, when an accident occurred. The car in front of them braked hard for no apparent reason. Jiang Xiaotian swerved, but couldn't avoid a collision—the nose of his car slammed into the other vehicle.

Fortunately, neither he nor Ling’er was hurt, but Jiang Xiaotian was heartbroken—not for Ling’er, but for his car! Through the windshield, he could see the hood was crumpled inward.

He jumped out to inspect the damage and nearly had a heart attack—the bumper was barely hanging on!

Ling’er got out too, equally distressed. “It’s this bad? Should we just buy another one?”

What kind of wild suggestion was that? But the way Ling’er began rummaging through her bag for a bank card, it was clear she wasn’t joking.

At that moment, an arrogant voice called out from behind them. “Who’s the young master here? Can’t you watch where you’re driving?”

Jiang Xiaotian turned around to see a buzz-cut man in dark sunglasses glaring at him. Only then did he notice the other car’s rear end was badly dented as well—and it was a Mercedes. No doubt the owner would be tough to deal with.

But Jiang Xiaotian wasn’t about to back down. He said, aggrieved, “How is this my fault? You slammed on the brakes out of nowhere! Who wasn’t paying attention?”

The man snorted. “Save the chatter. How do you want to resolve this?”

Jiang Xiaotian spread his hands. “Just fix my car and we’re even. I won’t ask you for any money.”

The man looked as though he’d misheard, then burst out laughing in rage. “Are you out of your mind? Do you know whose car this is?”

Jiang Xiaotian’s expression darkened, but he didn’t want to escalate things. He relaxed his frown and said, “Forget it. I don’t want to argue. Let’s just say I was careless and hit you. Just let me know how much your repairs cost, and I’ll pay.”

But the buzz-cut man assumed Jiang Xiaotian was afraid and grew even more aggressive. “Pay you? Are you stupid? The boss says whichever hand you used to drive, we’ll break it! If you used both, then both get broken!”

Jiang Xiaotian rolled his eyes. Idiot.

He went back to his car, unwilling to waste words with such people. He planned to find a place to get his car fixed as soon as possible—after all, Porsches didn’t have service centers on every corner, though Jiangzhou was more developed than Beihai.

But to the onlookers in the Mercedes, Jiang Xiaotian’s move was seen as a provocation. The buzz-cut man’s face darkened further, but he didn’t act immediately. Instead, he leaned into the car to consult someone inside.

Moments later, all the doors opened and several men, dressed similarly to the buzz-cut, stepped out. They headed straight for the passenger side, apparently intending to drag Ling’er out.

She was baffled, but disliked being touched by strangers. She shot Jiang Xiaotian a glare: “Are you just going to watch?”

Jiang Xiaotian snapped to attention and quickly got out. As if anticipating this, the buzz-cut man moved to block his path.

“Stop. The boss says we can let you go, but he wants to have a drink with your friend.”

“Drink with your damn self!” Jiang Xiaotian cursed. Before the buzz-cut could react, Jiang Xiaotian kicked him hard against the Mercedes, the impact so great the car shifted several centimeters.

The rest rushed over, but despite their burly appearances, they were no match for Jiang Xiaotian. In less than half a minute, all were sprawled on the ground.

Rolling up his sleeves, Jiang Xiaotian strode to the Mercedes, smashed the window with his fist, and yanked the fat man inside by the collar. “So you’re the one who wants to drink with my friend?”

“Boss! Kid, are you insane? Do you know who he is?” the buzz-cut man cried, pulling a knife from his pocket in panic.

But the fat boss suddenly noticed something, his face draining of color. He shouted past Jiang Xiaotian, “Stop! Stand down!”