The young man hit by Ye Mo's kick flew backwards and landed squarely on a garbage bin. Judging by his posture—sitting upright—you'd think he'd done it to himself, if not for the blood streaming from his nose and mouth.
Ye Mo's actions instantly caught everyone's attention. Even the middle-aged man who had just ended his call spun around and saw the thief behind him. But the thief didn't panic; he tucked away the small knife clenched between his fingers and glared defiantly at Ye Mo, standing alongside two other youths. That made four of them in total, including the one in the bin.
"You brat, you're asking for it! Take him out!" snarled one of the youths brandishing the knife, and the others charged without hesitation. The injured guy in the bin trembled visibly, his face painted with terror.
He finally understood: this young man had kicked him so hard in the face that he'd flown onto the bin—as if some unseen force had lifted him. A kick to the chest might've knocked him over, but this? No wonder he was so shaken. He tried to call off his cronies, but it was too late—they were already on Ye Mo.
The middle-aged man realized the young man must have caught the thief rummaging through his wallet—and now these four thieves were retaliating. He had wanted to intervene, but he didn't know martial arts. As he reached for his phone to call the police, he watched in disbelief as Ye Mo kicked one of them—the knife wielder—straight through the air, embedding the blade in his own thigh unexpectedly. The kick sent the thief backwards onto the head of another guy in the bin.
Then Ye Mo spun into a whirlwind kick, launching the remaining two attackers into the air. Two loud snaps echoed as something broke—bones, perhaps—and they crashed atop the bin, four bodies collapsing the bin with a deafening clang.
The middle-aged man gasped. Had he not seen it with his own eyes, he'd swear it was CGI. It looked like an action movie.
"Scum," Ye Mo spat two cold words and walked away. Only then did the crowd realize and erupt in applause at the sight of the fallen thieves—who couldn't move an inch.
Recognizing the approaching police, the four thieves struggled to their feet despite their wounds and staggered away.
"Please wait, friend. Thanks so much!" called the middle-aged man, chasing after Ye Mo and bowing repeatedly in gratitude.
Ye Mo waved it off. "No big deal. They picked a fight with me." With that, he turned to leave again.
"I—uh—my name's Zhuo Aiguo. I'd like to buy you dinner. Would you be interested?" The middle-aged man's tone hinted at ulterior motives upon seeing Ye Mo's skill.
"No interest," Ye Mo replied. He was only spending one night in Xian City; tomorrow he'd be gone. If the man had something to discuss, he'd better head to Guilin—where Ye Mo planned to go train.
Seeing Ye Mo walk away, Zhuo Aiguo hurried after him. "Just—if you go with me to Guilin, you tell me any price you want."
To Zhuo's mind, Ye Mo's modest clothes and demeanor didn't scream wealthy, so an offer of money might do the trick. But he didn't realize Ye Mo already had over 50,000 RMB on him. Even if Zhuo offered a hundred thousand, it wouldn't sway Ye Mo.
Ye Mo stopped. Since he was already heading to Guilin, and there might be money in it—so long as it wasn't more of a hitman gig like Wen Dong's—he might as well hear him out. He had valid ID and could always catch a plane if things turned sour.
"Alright," Ye Mo thought. "Let's listen."
They ducked into a quiet café, where Zhuo laid it all out: "I have urgent business in Guilin—a trade with a local boss in Flow-Snake Town. That town's further past Guilin, and it's wild out there. I was supposed to bring someone, but your skills put you beyond anyone I recruited."
He paused. "Flight to Guilin's no problem, but from Guilin to Flow-Snake, you need hours of bus. It's a multi-ethnic frontier area, right by the border—roaming bandits, frequent killings and brawls."
Zhuo looked expectantly, though he hadn't yet revealed who was in the exchange or what was being traded. He just emphasized the lawless reputation of Flow-Snake.
Ye Mo frowned. He knew Guilin was a border city, a good fallback if the Song family traced him. Flow-Snake, he'd never heard of—closer to the border, even more remote. Danger didn't bother him, but he wasn't keen to be some hired thug. He had freedom and options.
After pondering, he said calmly: "I wanted to go to Guilin anyway. But Flow-Snake being border-proximate—maybe there's more opportunity. I don't need payment. Just show me a solid base you trust there."
Zhuo waved his hand urgently, "Don't go to Flow-Snake to start a business—stick with Guilin. I have connections, property I'm willing to give you in Guilin. I'm only going to Flow-Snake because I have no other choice."
Ye Mo smiled faintly, "Risk brings opportunity. I've decided on Flow-Snake." Zhuo, accepting Ye Mo's resolve, added: "Alright, I can find you a place there."
Zhuo internally realized the place was rough but workable—money could build a path.
Ye Mo nodded again. "My business leans shady. The more remote the location, the better."
Zhuo grimaced but said nothing—his years in business taught him Ye Mo wasn't the usual cunning underworld type. Still, there was something about Ye Mo's words that carried that subtle underworld flair.