Chapter Forty-Three: Dad, What Brings You Here?

Lin Yi spoke without the slightest hesitation. “Hey, Angel, tell Fan Tianhang to come here immediately. Tell him he’s raised a fine son. The location is Wolf Loves Sheep Bar.”

With that, Lin Yi hung up.

Fan Fei sneered at his words. “Lin Yi, did you get your head slammed in a door? You didn’t even prepare before making the call. Secretary An is someone of status—how could she possibly know a country bumpkin like you, let alone get my dad to come? Who do you think you are?”

Everyone knew Angel represented the Linda Group. The Linda Company in Jiang Province had recently welcomed a mysterious new manager. The only one who could mobilize Angel was this big shot—even Fan Fei’s father had to respectfully address her as Secretary An.

Now Lin Yi was actually calling Angel, and in such a commanding tone. Wasn’t that implying Lin Yi himself was the mysterious manager? But that was simply impossible.

Yao Likun and Tan Long quickly lost interest, thinking Lin Yi was not only reckless but also a fool.

The name of Secretary An was well known to them all. The Linda Group had expanded rapidly in recent years, establishing branches across many provinces and cities. Once, a prince from a major province had publicly harassed Secretary An; within a week, his family’s assets had halved. If he hadn’t publicly apologized in the end, his family would likely have vanished from the public eye altogether.

Such a powerful woman naturally attracted the attention of many wealthy heirs, but few dared to make a move.

Lin Yi’s disregard for decorum and penchant for boasting left not just Fan Fei and his friends, but even Chu Na, deeply disappointed.

“Brother, if you can drink two bottles of whiskey in a row, I might consider pleading for you,” Tan Long said with a grin.

He wasn’t seriously offering help—he simply wanted to see Lin Yi make a fool of himself. Ordinary people would collapse after a single bottle; two would mean alcohol poisoning and a trip to the hospital. As long as no one died, everything could be sorted, and if someone did, it would only cost them more money to clean up.

“Are you sure you want me to drink?” Lin Yi asked coldly.

“Quit wasting words. Damn it, letting you drink is giving you face—don’t refuse to accept it,” Yao Likun shouted, his temper flaring.

He grabbed a bottle from the table and pointed it at Lin Yi threateningly. “You’ve got two choices. First, you drink, and nothing happens. Second, I beat you up. And let me tell you, I’ve trained in Muay Thai—I can punch a hole through a sandbag with ease.”

Lin Yi didn’t even spare Yao Likun a glance, closing his eyes and leaning back in the booth.

Fan Fei grinned wickedly and deliberately raised his voice. “Yao Likun, your Muay Thai is being looked down upon.”

Yao Likun’s face darkened. He raised the bottle high and brought it down toward Lin Yi’s head.

“Ah!” Chu Na screamed in fear, certain that such a blow would split Lin Yi’s head open.

Fan Fei and Tan Long seemed to see Lin Yi collapsing to the floor in their minds.

But Lin Yi simply extended a finger and effortlessly stopped the bottle.

“Damn, what’s going on?” Yao Likun was shocked. He used all his strength, but couldn’t budge the bottle at all.

Before he could react, Lin Yi grabbed his neck and tossed him several meters away like a piece of garbage.

Bang.

Yao Likun crashed into a row of tables, his body scratched and bruised.

Several sexy dancers in the club screamed in terror.

“Cough, cough.” Yao Likun coughed, his chest tight.

Fan Fei and Tan Long were startled. They hadn’t expected Lin Yi to be so dangerous—the harmless appearance had been deceptive.

Yao Likun was well over a hundred kilograms and trained in Muay Thai; among their circle, he was considered formidable. Yet Lin Yi had floored him in an instant.

Chu Na breathed a sigh of relief, but worry soon returned. Now things were truly complicated.

“Ah, all these years and Lin Yi’s temperament hasn’t changed at all,” Chu Na said, disappointed.

Lin Yi tossed Yao Likun aside and sat back down.

His calm demeanor made Fan Fei grit his teeth in irritation.

How could a country bumpkin dare to act superior in front of them, the sons of wealthy families?

“Lin Yi, don’t be arrogant. Do you even know who owns this bar?” Fan Fei demanded loudly.

Lin Yi glanced at him. “Not interested.”

“Not interested? Ha! When I tell you, you’ll be terrified.” Fan Fei’s confidence grew as he mentioned the bar’s owner. “Song Qi, the primary heir of the Song family, the most powerful clan in Jiang Province.”

Chu Na’s expression changed. Compared to Fan Fei and his companions, Song Qi’s reputation was much greater. She didn’t dare help Lin Yi now, lest she get caught in the crossfire.

Lin Yi smiled lightly. “So it’s him.”

He recalled that at the Yang family banquet, he’d beaten Song Qi severely.

“So you do know Song Qi. Now kneel, bow your head several times, and I might consider letting you off,” Fan Fei grinned wickedly.

Lin Yi’s eyes flashed coldly as he stood.

Fan Fei remembered Lin Yi’s previous violence and instinctively stepped back.

“What are you trying to do?” Fan Fei asked, his bravado faltering.

Lin Yi said nothing, simply moving toward him.

Just then, several burly security guards rushed in.

Song Qi, to intimidate others, had hired only former special forces soldiers as his bar’s security—each could take on three opponents with ease.

“Who’s causing trouble here?” a square-faced man in his thirties barked. His voice was loud, his complexion ruddy—a clear sign of a seasoned fighter.

“Brother Yong, help! He’s trying to kill me!” Fan Fei cried, seeing Zhou Yong as his savior.

Lin Yi ignored the security, striding up to Fan Fei and raising his hand.

Fan Fei instinctively tried to block, but Lin Yi’s hand felt as heavy as Mount Tai, instantly numbing his entire arm.

Slap.

Lin Yi’s palm struck Fan Fei’s face, sending him stumbling and collapsing to the floor.

“You’ve got guts, kid,” Zhou Yong’s eyes turned cold. He’d overseen this bar for years, and never had anyone dared cause such trouble.

The guards quickly surrounded Lin Yi, wielding rubber batons.

Chu Na hid behind a booth, furious—if only Lin Yi had listened to her and not come in, none of this would have happened.

Now they were in real trouble.

Zhou Yong crouched beside Fan Fei. “Young Master Fan, are you alright?”

Fan Fei was a regular and knew Song Qi, the bar’s owner.

“Brother Yong, break his legs,” Fan Fei said, pressing his swollen face, his eyes full of hatred.

“No problem.”

Zhou Yong stood and ordered the guards, “What are you waiting for? Break his legs.”

The guards raised their batons and aimed for Lin Yi.

Lin Yi’s expression remained calm. He clenched his fists.

Bang, bang, bang.

In less than ten seconds, the guards were all lying on the ground, moaning in pain.

Fan Fei’s pupils contracted. He hadn’t expected Lin Yi to be so formidable.

Tan Long quickly abandoned his swagger and hid to the side—self-preservation was paramount for the privileged sons.

Zhou Yong glanced at the fallen guards and smiled grimly. “So it’s a fighter making trouble. Too bad you picked the wrong place.”

He stripped off his security uniform and tossed it aside.

His muscles were well-defined, crisscrossed with scars. The most severe was a knife wound spanning his entire back, as if the attacker had tried to cleave him in two.

Chu Na’s heart raced with fear. She couldn’t imagine what this man had endured.

Ordinary people would never have survived such injuries.

Bang.

Zhou Yong stomped hard on the floor, charging at Lin Yi. Each step left a clear footprint in the floorboards.

“Die!” Zhou Yong’s eyes flashed fiercely as he swung a heavy fist at Lin Yi’s head.

“Your strength isn’t bad, but it’s all for show,” Lin Yi remarked calmly, catching Zhou Yong’s fist in his hand.

In truth, Zhou Yong’s abilities were impressive—nearly at the level of a true master. But unfortunately, he had met Lin Yi.

“For show?” Zhou Yong was incensed. His moves were honed in life-or-death combat—how could they be dismissed as mere fancy tricks?

He pulled his arm free, then launched a powerful kick, slicing through the air like a blade toward Lin Yi.

Lin Yi remained unruffled, flicking his finger.

Bang.

Zhou Yong was sent flying, crashing right into Fan Fei.

“Cough, cough.”

Fan Fei coughed painfully, knowing Lin Yi had done it on purpose.

But even Zhou Yong had been defeated in a single move. If Fan Fei tried anything, it would only be suicide.

All he could do now was wait for Song Qi.

Song Qi, as the Song family’s primary heir, always had experts by his side. When he arrived, Lin Yi would be lucky to escape with broken arms.

After handling the guards, Lin Yi sat calmly in the booth, as if the chaos around him had nothing to do with him.

Over ten minutes passed before a fat middle-aged man hurried in, bearing a resemblance to Fan Fei.

Fan Fei spotted him and cried, “Dad, why are you here?”

For all his usual swagger, Fan Fei feared his father most.

Fan Tianhang saw Fan Fei and immediately grew furious, striding up to him.

Slap.

Fan Fei was stunned by the blow.

“Dad, why did you hit me?” he asked, aggrieved.

“Why? You tell me what you’ve done—making Secretary An call me in person!”

Fan Tianhang grew angrier, landing another hard slap on Fan Fei’s other cheek.

Only then did Fan Fei remember Lin Yi’s earlier phone call.