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The Heir to the Seven Killers in the City

Chapter 33: The Bloody Path to Wealth

Qin Yu didn’t understand what Yang Yong was up to at that moment, but he was truly at a loss—like a lamb led to the slaughter. “If I told you I wouldn’t kill you today, would you believe me?” Yang Yong asked, looking at Qin Yong. Qin Yu furrowed his brow and looked back at Yang Yong. As their eyes met, Qin Yu could sense the resolve in Yang Yong’s gaze. For a split second, he felt that Yang Yong might actually be telling the truth, so he asked, puzzled, “Give me a reason.” “Well, I’d like to tell you a story. But before I do, let me ask you one more question.” “It was Lin Hao who sent you to assassinate me, wasn’t it?” Yang Yong asked. Hearing Yang Yong ask this question, he nodded openly. After all, he held a grudge against both sides; if this incident could provoke a major clash between them, it would be the best possible outcome for Qin Yu. Luo Jiang, who was listening in on the sidelines, shot Yang Yong a startled glance. “Alright, you must know something about this. For instance, the reason the Fire Scorpion Gang has remained unshaken is not just because of our own strength—we’re backed by a major power.” Yang Yong paused here; he noticed not the slightest change in Qin Yu’s expression, which meant Qin Yu was indeed already aware of everything he’d just said. “And both Lin Hao and I belong to that big player behind the scenes.” He still saw no change in Qin Yu’s expression, and then sighed inwardly: “It seems my big-mouthed second-in-command really does speak without restraint—he’ll say anything!” “That big shot is our backer, and we, the Fire Scorpion Gang, are his indispensable cash cow. Even if I die, this cash cow must remain,” Yang Yong said slowly. To Qin Yu, these words were like a wake-up call, and with that, he turned his back on Chen Laosan and walked out. As he walked out, Qin Yu thought about the stories he’d heard of Uncle Chen San in his youth. It was hard to imagine that the brave and decisive young man from those tales had now become this way; he suspected the stories were greatly embellished. But he couldn’t help but marvel at how much time truly changes a person—making them cowardly, yet also reckless.