Chapter 99: Harboring Filth and Corruption

The rain-soaked night concealed many illicit deeds. Nowadays, the development of social surveillance systems brought a great sense of security to society, yet no matter how advanced the system, it still required human operation; its effect depended entirely on whose hands controlled it.

The security department, which managed the company’s internal monitoring system, of course, would never use it to serve the company’s interests. Tonight, the company had effectively become an open den of debauchery. The first-floor lobby blazed with light, filled with over a hundred people dancing wildly like demons. The once-pristine hall had nearly transformed into their private bar and nightclub.

Drunken security guards clung to women who had appeared from nowhere, dressed scantily and heavily made-up. Cigarette smoke curled through the air amid the red and green lights and flowing alcohol.

Except for the gate guards dozing in the security room, everyone else was lost in the revelry.

Only Zhang Baode and fewer than ten others, unwilling to mingle with that crowd, had stayed away. Everyone else—on or off duty—was shamelessly wrecking havoc in the hall.

Before, they dared not treat the company lobby as their own home; now, Wang Hu had even smashed up the deputy general manager’s office. From this point on, the company belonged to them—there was nothing they wouldn’t dare to do.

Some had suggested that messing up the lobby might provoke a fierce backlash from the boss, but most believed not only in trashing it but in defiling it.

The cleaners could handle the mess—what was there to fear?

If the boss dared to intervene, they would smash his office too.

The bulletproof glass doors were shut, the air conditioning providing enough warmth, and those in shorts and slippers, fueled by alcohol, scrawled recklessly on the walls. Someone smashed a wine bottle against the wall, leaving shards and spilled liquor scattered across the floor.

Wang Hu was absent, but everyone else was here.

Yang Changfeng roared into the courtyard in a Raptor, crashing through the barrier. The vehicle screeched to a drift as it stopped at the entrance.

“You all wait in the car,” he ordered. “If you’re not fighting, you’ll only get in the way. I can handle this place alone.” He told Chen Aijia not to call the police too quickly—these people had to pay a price first.

“I understand,” Chen Aijia said. “Be careful. And don’t kill anyone.”

This was a society governed by law; even when chasing thieves to exhaustion, one could be fined or sued, let alone causing death.

Yang Changfeng got out and pulled a large wrench from the trunk. At that moment, the two gate guards in the security room finally noticed his return.

They locked the security room’s door from the inside, exchanging nervous looks. Was the end truly coming today?

Hadn’t he left already? Why was he back?

Inside the hall, no one noticed Yang Changfeng. The drunken crowd continued their frantic, devilish dance.

With a swift tug, Yang Changfeng flung open the bulletproof glass door. He struck a man who glanced back at him squarely with the wrench, shattering his nasal bone as blood sprayed wildly.

The agonized scream drowned out the music in the hall. Someone had brought in a sound system from somewhere; a trashy MC shouted hoarsely, singing some unrecognizable nonsense. When the door opened, a blast of alcohol fumes mixed with a heavy, wild, and cheap scent of copulation surged out, making Yang Changfeng’s ears ring and his chest tighten.

Everyone turned to look.

Yang Changfeng showed no courtesy; his way of greeting was the wrench.

He struck with precision, breaking bones but sparing lives.

The deliberately altered lighting wasn’t dim; the sight of blood and alcohol assaulted their senses. After Yang Changfeng felled two men, the group finally realized what was happening.

“You… why are you back?” several foremen, clutching beer bottles, sobered immediately upon seeing him.

Dozens of women engaged with men in various poses; most clothes were discarded, hanging on the walls, while others entwined atop tables taken from unknown offices. The blood sent shivers through them.

Yang Changfeng locked the bulletproof glass door behind him, his face cold. He grabbed a foreman and struck him again with the wrench.

Just a few dozen trash like these—did they really pose a threat?

The women screamed and fled toward the door, but it was locked tight.

Yang Changfeng pulled a stool to block the entrance, sitting astride it with an air of authority.

“Liu… what’s your name? Come here.”

Liu was a veteran foreman in the security department, having worked there for seven or eight years, though not one of Wang Hu’s close allies.

He was the most riotous of the lot, having been splashing beer on the walls with a keg just before.

Wearing only briefs, Liu’s drunkenness vanished at the sight of Yang Changfeng—this was a ruthless killer. Who in the company dared defy him?

Trembling, he approached and collapsed to his knees before Yang Changfeng, banging his head hard against the floor, tearfully confessing his faults and slapping his own face fiercely. His head struck spilled beer on the ground, splashing it about, and fortunately, there were no glass shards nearby—otherwise, he would have cut his forehead.

Yang Changfeng regarded him coolly. Suddenly, he said, “You’re an old hand here, so it wouldn’t be right to be too harsh. Here’s the deal: drink all the water on the floor, and eat all the glass shards. Start now.”

At first, Liu felt a surge of pride—being a veteran had its perks. But Yang Changfeng’s second sentence left him dumbfounded: dozens of cubic meters of filthy water—how could he drink that? Hundreds of glass shards—eat them? Cleaning that up was a nightmare.

“You won’t?” Yang Changfeng struck Liu again with the wrench, smashing the back of his head until the bone showed.

The women screamed and scattered to the other side.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try not to make things harder for you. For those who came to sell themselves, let the police deal with them,” Yang Changfeng said, glancing at Liu before another wrench strike smashed Liu’s nose, denting the nasal bone deeply.

“Let’s fight him!” the other foremen shouted upon seeing this—he clearly wasn’t going to back down. So let’s settle this with fists.

Just what they’d been waiting for.

Without hesitation, Yang Changfeng leapt up and chased after the foremen, striking without pause. One who ran too slowly was hit in the shoulder; the wrench caught on something, tearing a large flap of skin off with a spray of blood hitting Yang Changfeng’s face. Yet he seemed unfazed, continuing his relentless assault until all the foremen lay sprawled on the floor, unconscious or worse.

Throughout, no one dared to stop him. The foremen fled into the crowd, which immediately pushed them out.

So long as only the ringleaders were beaten, the rest would be fine.

Outside, the two terrified gate guards cautiously approached to see what was happening. Yang Changfeng ignored such minor players, but Zhang Baode knew these two couldn’t be allowed to escape—they must be hiding something.

Jumping down from the vehicle, Zhang Baode grabbed a heavy water bottle from the Raptor’s cup holder—it was as heavy as a brick—and hurled it. One guard was knocked over; the other turned just in time to have his face smashed by the bottle, splitting his skin open.