Chapter Seventy-One: A Great Upheaval in Officialdom

"Smack!"

A resounding slap echoed through the room as the big fat man raised his hand and struck the skinny young punk, sending him stumbling to the side. Five bright red fingerprints immediately adorned the youth’s swollen cheek.

"You bastard! How dare you hit me! Brothers, beat that fat man to death! If anything happens, I'll take responsibility!" Enraged, the young man who had just been slapped yelled to his companions. These youths had always followed his lead; at his command, they lunged at the big man.

"Sit back and enjoy the show. They're just students—one fat man is more than enough," Song Nianqiang said, pulling Li Runze back just as he was about to join the fray. Indeed, with the fat man's skills, a handful of students posed no threat. Relieved, Li Runze and Song Nianqiang found separate seats and watched with amused smiles as the fat man took center stage.

Swinging his huge palm, the fat man knocked two students down in one blow. Despite their edgy attire, he could easily prove they were amateurs in a fight. Even using only one hand, he could flatten every one of them.

With a swift spin, he kicked a youth trying to sneak up behind him, sending the boy flying—unfortunately, the youth’s head slammed into the corner of a table, and he collapsed, motionless. Yet, no one in the room noticed.

In an instant, three of the eight were incapacitated. The remaining five hesitated, but the fat man gave them no chance to regroup. He closed in, grabbed one by the hair—long hair made for an easy hold—and yanked down hard, then drove his knee up with force. The snap of a shattered nose was unmistakable.

The four left realized things had gone south and tried to run, only to find Li Runze standing by the door, smiling. At some point, the door had been closed. Sharing a glance, the four rushed for the exit with unspoken agreement. Li Runze, already a formidable fighter and further tempered by life-and-death training with the 7th Special Operations Team, moved even more ruthlessly than the fat man.

He braced his right foot against the door and leapt, spinning midair to kick two of the youths to the ground. Without pause, he seized the collars of the other two, yanked them back, and delivered two sharp kicks. The last two were left writhing on the floor, howling in pain.

Song Nianqiang, sharp-eyed, noticed the door Li Runze had used. The KTV doors were made of solid wood, yet Li Runze had easily kicked a hole straight through it—evidence enough of his immense strength.

In a matter of moments, the eight troublemakers were all down. Their leader was stunned, though he retained enough bravado not to immediately beg for mercy. The fat man, still fuming, strode over and met the youth’s gaze, but the boy quickly dropped his eyes.

"Dammit!"

A solid kick to the youth’s stomach left him clutching his belly, crouched over in pain. Yet, a minute later, he still managed to stand, his eyes burning with venomous resentment. Pointing at the fat man, he shouted, "My father is the Director of the Tax Bureau! Just you wait! I know who you are—I'll have my father make your family suffer! I’ll see you all dead!"

"Idiot," Song Nianqiang, who had been watching with amusement, scoffed, stepping forward to restrain the furious fat man. "Let him realize who he's really messing with." The fat man forced himself to stand aside, glaring coldly at the youth.

"Do you know who I am?" Song Nianqiang asked evenly as he approached. The youth thought for a moment, then shook his head. "And do you know who that is?" Song gestured to Li Runze. Again, the youth shook his head. Finally, Song pointed at the fat man. "But you know who he is, don’t you?"

At this, the youth’s eyes filled with hatred, and he nodded fiercely. "His family owns all the supermarkets in this county. His father has visited my home before!"

Song Nianqiang shook his head with a smile and pressed on, "Do you know his family owns over twenty supermarkets across the country, three in the capital, and his father's old classmate is a high-ranking provincial official? If he wants your father out of office, all it takes is a single word."

The youth froze, suddenly uncertain. Song Nianqiang chuckled at his expression. "You're not like us—you'll never learn unless you face real consequences. Consider this a lesson on your father's behalf." With that, he grabbed the youth’s nose ring and yanked it out. Blood poured from the youth’s nose, and the pain was excruciating.

"When it's time to be ruthless, you must be ruthless. Scum like this should have been cleaned out of society long ago," Song Nianqiang said, glancing at the bloody ring before tossing it beside the youth. "Damn, you really are ruthless," Li Runze remarked. He had thought himself hard enough, but watching Song Nianqiang rip out a nose ring while chatting as if nothing had happened—that was another level entirely.

"Let’s get out of here. Or are you waiting for the police to arrest us?" Song Nianqiang grinned, changing his demeanor in a flash and leading the way out of the room. "Shit! You're not loyal at all!" The fat man and Li Runze followed close behind.

Of course, there was no way the police would come to arrest them; their connections ran deep. Song Nianqiang’s background went without saying. The fat man had influential ties within the province, and as for Li Runze, unless the Premier himself gave the order, no one would dare lay a finger on him. Men like them, embedded in covert special operations, were unknown to most, wielded little overt authority, but were directly under the Premier’s command. That alone spoke volumes about their futures.

With such a disturbance, it was impossible the police weren’t aware. But now the Tax Bureau was involved, and several sons of officials lay battered on the floor—one youth, in particular, looked unlikely to survive as anything more than a vegetable. While the other officials weren't as powerful as the Tax Bureau Director, the local police chief was in a panic, especially after reviewing the KTV’s surveillance footage.

Of all the people to get involved, it had to be these two harbingers of calamity. Judging by the other man's bearing, the police chief guessed they must have been sent by the colonel to deal with the "Skinner" case—men whose identities were top secret, far above the reach of a mere county police chief.

So, the police chief reported everything to the county magistrate. At that moment, both the magistrate and the party secretary were visiting the colonel, eager to ingratiate themselves with the high-level officials from the central government. They had already heard that these visitors were powerful figures indeed. A single word from them to the right person could guarantee their own rapid promotion.

"Ring, ring, ring..." The magistrate’s phone chimed. Apologizing to the head of the 7th Special Operations Team and the colonel, he stepped out to answer. Minutes later, he returned with a dark expression. "What is it, Old Yu?" the colonel asked, noticing his mood.

The magistrate recounted everything in detail. The head of the 7th Team was furious, slamming the table and barking at the magistrate and the party secretary, "The sons of your officials here are out of control! They’re even worse than those wild brats in the capital!"

The magistrate fumed inwardly: "It was your men who beat them up, and yet you have the nerve to scold us." But he kept his thoughts to himself and, with the party secretary, quickly found an excuse to take their leave. They knew if this matter wasn't handled cleanly, their own days in office would be numbered.

Once outside, the magistrate and party secretary split up—one to convene an emergency meeting of all officials, and the other to visit the scene. It seemed a sweeping shakeup was about to hit the county's political circles. As for dealing with those wayward officials, the magistrate and the party secretary were more than up to the task.