Chapter 32: A Constructive Proposal

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When Fang Cheng arrived at the warehouse’s back door with his group, over a dozen thugs blocked their path with motorcycles.

Only the female high school student managed to stay somewhat calm. Others trembled with visible panic.

Even the girl’s composure was shallow—her hand still clutched Fang Cheng’s sleeve.

Fear was natural here. In these poorly governed suburbs, gangs ruled unchecked, treating murder like daily routine.

The mohawked gang leader planted one foot on the ground as his motorcycle halted, lighting a cigarette. “Hey brat,” he smirked, “hiding with women after dark? What’s your deal?”

His gang circled the group on roaring motorcycles, howling laughter as they watched the terrified women shiver.

Fang Cheng turned to Kanzaki Rin instead of answering. “How long till the vampire arrives?”

“Any second now.” Her voice strained with tension.

The returning vampire. Lawless thugs. A group of helpless civilians. Every contingency plan had crumbled.

Kanzaki Rin’s worst predictions paled against this reality.

“What’s your move?”

“Improvise.”

The mohawked leader’s ignored question drew a shout from his lackey: “Deaf, kid? The boss asked you something!”

Fang Cheng finally looked up. “What do you want?”

All eyes shifted to the gang leader. He exhaled smoke, flicked his cigarette away, and drawled, “Kill the men. Keep the women.”

Cheers erupted. The women sank to their knees, sobbing. Having barely escaped death, they now faced worse.

“Wait!” Fang Cheng raised his hand. “I’ve got a better idea.”

Every gaze locked onto him—even Kanzaki Rin leaned closer from her hiding spot.

Fang Cheng smiled. “Why not kill the women and keep the men for fun?”

Silence swallowed the scene. Thugs gaped. His own companions stared, stunned.

The mohawked gang leader’s underling rubbed his chin. “Hmm, that idea doesn’t sound bad…”

Before he finished, the mohawked leader smacked his head hard. “What’d you say? Want me to send you whoring at a host club?”

The other thugs burst out laughing at once.

Flushing red, the underling turned his anger on Fang Cheng. “Hey brat! You messin’ with us?”

He yanked a dagger from his clothes and hurled it at Fang Cheng.

The female high school student shrieked and threw her arms around the young boy.

Fang Cheng caught the spinning dagger mid-air and inhaled deeply.

The metallic stench of blood already thickened around them.

The thugs only laughed louder at Fang Cheng’s display.

“Kansai-boy! Your aim’s weak!”

“Couldn’t even hit some high school punk!”

“Shame on Night King Group! You should apologize!”

The Kansai thug’s face burned crimson. Revving his motorcycle engine, he yanked the handles upward.

The bike roared as its front wheel lifted, charging straight at Fang Cheng.

Women screamed but stayed frozen behind Fang Cheng. The schoolgirl tried pulling him back when –

CRASH!

The motorcycle toppled. The Kansai thug rolled across pavement, dagger protruding from his heart.

Silence fell again.

The gangsters stared between their dead comrade and empty-handed Fang Cheng. None had seen the strike.

The mohawked leader froze while lighting a cigarette. He glared at Fang Cheng through narrowed eyes.

“Can’t you smell the blood?”

Fang Cheng waved at his nose. “Reeks.”

The thugs erupted in fury. “You bastard-”

The leader crushed his cigarette, about to order the attack when –

A gaunt middle-aged man in black trench coat materialized beside him.

Pale skin clung to hollow eye sockets containing pitch-black irises. No whites showed. A walking corpse.

The leader’s hair stood on end. Behind Fang Cheng, someone wet themselves.

The schoolgirl pointed trembling fingers, mouth gaping soundlessly.

“Who the hell’re you?”

“Get away from our boss!”

The middle-aged man ignored the shouts, locking eyes only with Fang Cheng.

“SHUT UP!”

The leader’s roar silenced his men. His survival instincts screamed danger from this wraith-like figure.

Trembling, he addressed the man. “S-sir… business here?”

The middle-aged man turned slowly, smiling kindly.

“Don’t worry. This won’t hurt.”

The leader felt weightless – sky and ground swapped places.

His head hit pavement, watching blood fountain from his neck as his headless corpse sat astride the motorcycle.