Chapter 93: A Miserable Fate**
"Eight Heavenly Dragons? More like eight little worms!" Tang Bao'er paced her luxury villa, glaring at the TV replay of the bartending competition. Fury burned in her eyes. The memory of being spanked in public by that bastard still made her blood boil. "So you're good at basketball? Good at bartending? Fine. I'll find something you *suck* at and crush you."
…
"Holy crap, Brother Wu! You were *insane*! 'Eight Heavenly Dragons'? That name's so badass, only you could pull it off. Are you secretly Ultraman in disguise? You can do *everything*!" Song Mingjie bombarded Wu Yifan with exclamations, his excitement barely contained.
Wu Yifan smiled faintly. Even he was surprised by how well the 2 enhancement points had worked. Imagine what a dozen points could do. "I just wanted to show them what I'm capable of. Got a little carried away, I guess."
"Carried away? Brother Wu, I'm starting to think you're a clone or something. You're *inhuman*. I was stressing over how to end this competition, and bam—you waltz in and win it all. Mind-blowing." Song Mingjie's eyes sparkled with admiration.
"Enough chitchat. Did you do what I asked?" Wu Yifan's tone turned serious.
"Oh, absolutely. That Ouyang Hai thought he could lay a hand on Sister-in-law? I'm gonna make him *regret* it. Fifteen women, all in their forties. How's that sound?" Song Mingjie's grin turned lecherous, like a wolf eyeing its prey.
"Fifteen?" Wu Yifan winced, imagining the scene: a dozen starved women pouncing on Ouyang Hai, screams echoing through the room. He gave Song Mingjie a thumbs-up. "You've outdone yourself."
Song Mingjie owned a nightclub called *Xiaohun*—"Ecstasy"—and true to its name, it was a den of temptation.莺莺燕燕 (Yīngyīng-yànyàn, warblers and swallows) wandered the halls, their beauty enough to make any man lose himself in pleasure.
"Brother Ming! Brother Ming!"
As Wu Yifan and Song Mingjie entered, the bouncers scrambled to greet them, their voices eager.
Song Mingjie preened, pointing at a random goon. "Where's the pretty boy? Don't tell me you killed him. I don't want a corpse on my hands."
The goon bowed. "No way, Brother Ming! We kept him alive, just like you said. He's in the back room, all tied up. Still kickin'."
"Good." Song Mingjie nodded, satisfied.
They followed the goons to a second-floor private room. Through the door, they heard Ouyang Hai's shaky voice: "Let me go! I'm Ouyang Hai! A *master* bartender! I'll sue you for kidnapping! You'll rot in jail!"
Song Mingjie pushed the door open, clapping. "Jail? Ooh, scary. My heart's racing. Keep going—maybe if you threaten me enough, I'll let you go."
Ouyang Hai paled when he saw Wu Yifan. "W-what do you want?"
Wu Yifan knelt, staring him down. "What do *you* think?"
"I-I'm a *celebrity*!" Ouyang Hai stammered.
"Celebrity?" Wu Yifan glanced at the goons. "Anyone heard of him?"
"Ouyang Hai? Sure! There's a shoe repair guy named Ouyang Hai near the school!"
"Yeah, and a trash picker at the market!"
"Hey, my dog's named Ouyang Hai!"
The goons howled, relishing the humiliation. Even if they'd known who Ouyang Hai was, they wouldn't have cared.
Ouyang Hai's face turned purple. He couldn't speak.
Wu Yifan pulled out a cigarette, lighting it slowly. "We were strangers. No beef. But you messed with *my* woman. I can't let that slide. Otherwise, people'll think I'm weak."
"I-I didn't know she was yours! I'm sorry!" Ouyang Hai begged.
*Slap!*
A sharp slap sent Ouyang Hai sprawling. His cheek swelled instantly, blood trickling from his nose.
Wu Yifan looked away, cold. "You don't get to say her name. This is a warning. Next time? You won't walk away."
Ouyang Hai whimpered, too scared to move.
"Let's get this over with. I wanna sleep." Wu Yifan nodded at Song Mingjie.
Song Mingjie rubbed his hands, grinning. "Right this way, ladies!"
He dashed out, returning with fifteen middle-aged women—their eyes hungry, their smiles predatory.
Standing outside the room, Wu Yifan and Song Mingjie exchanged uneasy glances. Even for thugs like them, this was… extreme. A gangbang by middle-aged women? It was a new low.
"Think he'll survive?" a goon asked.
Song Mingjie snickered. "Trust me. He'll *perform*."
"How?"
"Let's just say I slipped him eight Viagra pills. He won't quit till dawn."
The goons gaped. Eight pills? That was suicide.
Inside the room, moans erupted—first from the women, then from Ouyang Hai. But his sounds weren't pleasure. They were pain. Agony.
The goons peeked through the keyhole, then stumbled back, vomiting. "F-fuck… that's messed up."
Wu Yifan smoked, thoughtful. "Do you think he'll ever look at a woman again? I kinda hope he toughs it out." He smiled, then left.
The goons stared after him, sweating. *Tough it out? That's not toughness. That's a miracle.*
Song Mingjie listened to the chaos—moans turning to whimpers—and shuddered. Imagining Ouyang Hai pinned beneath a dozen women made his skin crawl. "Clean him up when they're done. Dump him outside. Don't stain the carpet." He fled to his room, locking the door. "No disturbances! I'm *asleep*!"
The goons rolled their eyes, eyeing the door with pity.
The next morning, Beitian woke to a spectacle: a naked man lying outside the nightclub, delirious, twitching. His penis hung limp as a worm. He babbled about being a "master bartender" named Ouyang Hai, claiming he'd been robbed.
But after that night, something broke in him. He shrank from women, trembling, foaming at the mouth if one came too close.
A once-arrogant womanizer, reduced to a shell—terrified of the very thing he'd craved.
A miserable fate, indeed.