Qian Dafeng hadn't spoken yet when a middle-aged man behind him jumped out, pointing at Lin Chen and shouting.
"You brat! My father has given you face by not turning hostile, but don't push your luck!"
"I don't know where you heard about my father's injury, but if you think you can use that to bluff and swindle, you're dreaming!"
"For the sake of Mr. He's face, my Qian family won't hold this matter against you—but as for working with us, forget it."
This man was Qian Dafeng's adopted son, Qian Guoqiang, the person he trusted most, raised since childhood and even granted the Qian surname.
Qian Dafeng's face sank slightly. He turned to He Ling and said, "Xiaoling, if you have time, come visit the Southern Territory. I'll make sure you're well entertained."
Then he looked at Lin Chen. "President Lin, I've remembered your words. But my life is tough—this old body of mine can still last for years."
His meaning was clear—he wanted no part in this matter and would be returning to the South.
After giving a few instructions to his aide, he turned and left.
Everyone could see that Boss Qian was truly angry. But for He Tianchi's sake, he hadn't exploded on the spot—just enough to make his point. This level of self-control earned him the quiet respect of everyone present.
Once Qian Dafeng was gone, his secretary came to He Ling and whispered, "Mr. He, the old master has instructed that our cooperation will not be affected. Mr. Qian will continue handling the rest."
Hearing this, He Ling let out a sigh of relief. It seemed that while Qian Dafeng was displeased, he wasn't going to break ties over it.
Still, at this level of society, face meant everything, and Lin Chen's words had indeed made it hard for Qian Dafeng to save his dignity.
Lin Chen sighed lightly. He had only spoken up for He Tianchi's sake, hoping to ensure smoother cooperation. He had even planned to personally treat Qian Dafeng's condition. But if the man didn't believe him, there was nothing more he could do.
In any case, he had done his part. Whether Qian Dafeng survived this calamity would depend on his own fortune.
The hotel had prepared a private room, and the contract was ready. Lin Chen and Qian Hao signed their names, finalizing the partnership.
He Ling put the contract away and personally escorted Qian Hao out, apologizing to him on Lin Chen's behalf.
When she returned, she gave Lin Chen a reproachful look.
"President Lin, how could you say such things? If Grandpa Qian weren't so broad-minded, I don't know how we would've gotten through today."
Murong Qingcheng was still a little shaken. She looked at Lin Chen.
"Honey, that was so tense just now. I thought the deal was going to fall through."
"Anyone would be upset hearing that kind of talk. Maybe… don't say things like that next time."
Lin Chen could only smile wryly. Qian Dafeng's condition was complicated—there was no easy way to explain it. If not for his Taoist master's teachings, he wouldn't have been able to see through it himself.
And the problem wasn't simple. Without a thorough check, even Lin Chen couldn't have said for sure.
"Believe it or not, I'm telling the truth," Lin Chen sighed again, turning to He Ling.
"His body has serious problems. If he stops taking those tonics, he'll notice it himself. Your grandfather has some connection with him—if you can persuade him… otherwise, this is just his fate."
Seeing Lin Chen speak with such certainty, He Ling believed him a little. "You mean it?"
"Three days from now, you'll see," Lin Chen said calmly.
If Qian Dafeng couldn't save himself, he wouldn't live past three days.
Across the street from the Longxiang Hotel, a business van had been parked for hours without moving.
It wasn't until Lin Chen walked into the hotel hand-in-hand with Murong Qingcheng that there was movement.
"Target in sight. Do we move?" the chubby man in the passenger seat asked, peering through binoculars.
"Move, my ass! Did you even read the intel? That's a peak grandmaster! If you want to die, go ahead!"
"Just do your job and keep eyes on him. If you screw up Nine Lord's plans, you don't have enough lives to pay for it!"
In the back seat, a scar-faced man toyed with a butterfly knife. "Grandmaster or not—if I'm ordered to move, he's dead."
"A grandmaster that young, and at the top level?" the chubby man gaped, his cigarette falling from his mouth and landing on his crotch. He yelped and frantically patted at it.
"You know Xie Tu from the Liang family, right? That guy was strong enough, but this kid crippled him with one palm—killed him on the spot."
"When they brought him to the hospital, his heart had already stopped. If not for adrenaline shots and electric shocks, he'd still be a corpse. That was a seventh-heaven grandmaster, slapped to death!"
The chubby man swallowed hard and spoke into his earpiece. "Boss, why the hell are we even provoking someone like that?"
"Enough! No one's telling you to make a move. Just watch him."
Lin Chen and Murong Qingcheng got into He Ling's car. As soon as the engine started, the men in the van began tailing them.
After winding through several streets, they arrived at an antique-style pavilion restaurant.
The décor was exquisite, giving the feeling of stepping into another era. Unlike the trendy Michelin places, this one catered to true connoisseurs.
He Ling led them to a private room upstairs.
"The food here is excellent, and so is the wine," she smiled, uncorking a bottle and pouring for them.
"I happened to discover this place. Their house specialty is monkey wine—made by a troupe of trained monkeys using a special method."
"I don't know if it's real monkey wine, but it's intoxicating all the same."
The light fragrance lingered in the air. Lin Chen took a deep sniff—indeed, it was a fine aroma.
It reminded him of a mission in the frozen mountains. He had rescued a target and, while crossing the range, been trapped in a snowstorm. In a cave, they had found wine with a similar scent—true monkey wine, brewed by snow monkeys and frozen into a fruit liqueur.
Seeing his look of reminiscence, He Ling asked curiously, "President Lin, have you had monkey wine before?"
Lin Chen nodded. "If my nose isn't wrong, I have. It's a fine fruit wine."
He Ling smiled. "Well, try it and see if the taste matches."
Just then, loud voices rose from downstairs, breaking Lin Chen's thoughts.
He frowned and glanced down to see a group of men in black martial garb charging up.
At their head was someone Lin Chen instantly recognized—the not-so-dead Xie Tu.
Before Lin Chen could speak, Xie Tu stepped forward and dropped to his knees.
"I, Xie Tu, am here to apologize!"
He kowtowed heavily, his forehead striking the floor.
"Mr. Lin, please forgive me this once. Those Liang family bastards deceived me—otherwise, how could I have dared oppose you?"