Chapter Thirty-Two: Chaos Unleashed

Boss Ma handed the half-finished painting to an elderly man beside him, who examined it carefully with a magnifying glass.

“Young man, don’t stir up trouble for no reason. What’s the meaning of this?” Boss Ma pointed at the painting in the old man’s hands.

Zhang Qinglin lifted his head. “I mean no harm. If you let my friend go, the remaining half of the painting will naturally be yours. But I’m curious—why keep a ruined painting? What use is it now?”

To Zhang Qinglin and his companions, the painting no longer held any value. Seeing the strange look and sly, wicked smile Boss Ma cast his way, Zhang Qinglin knew things would not be so simple.

“Old Zhang, I don’t think he intends to let Xinyue go. We need to figure out a way to rescue her... and escape,” Cheng Che whispered as he drew close to Zhang Qinglin.

“Boss Ma, this is indeed the Apocalypse Map, but it’s not complete. This is only a quarter—apart from the other half they hold, there must be another half somewhere,” the old man murmured as he leaned toward Boss Ma.

Boss Ma narrowed his eyes, lowering his chin. “Rest assured, hand over the remaining half, and I’ll release your friend at once. I’ll even make sure you leave safely.”

“Don’t believe his nonsense,” Old Seven interjected.

“Qinglin, Cheng Che, you should go and leave me behind...”

“Yueyue, don’t say such foolish things. How could we abandon you? I promised Uncle Jiang that, no matter what happened, I wouldn’t let you come to harm. Boss Ma, if you don’t release her now, I’ll burn this painting right here.” Zhang Qinglin gripped the painting in his left hand, while his right hand produced a lighter.

Boss Ma nodded slightly. “Fine, let her go first.”

Jiang Xinyue was freed, and she hurried across to their side, with Cheng Che rushing to support her.

“Xinyue, are you alright?”

“I’m fine…”

Suddenly, Zhang Qinglin’s expression shifted. He tossed the painting into the air, turned to his companions, and shouted, “Go!”

Boss Ma was not surprised; he had anticipated Zhang Qinglin’s move. He waved both hands forward and stepped back, his face cold and commanding. “Seize them all. Take them back.”

Boss Ma’s men surged ahead. Dazhuang and Zhang Qinglin ran at the rear, but the burly man with the bushy beard was first to catch up, grabbing Dazhuang’s shoulder.

Just as the brute grinned in triumph, a hatchet cleaved unexpectedly into his arm, striking bone. He howled, staggering back, and blood gushed forth.

“Brother Ma, it’s been a while!” The voice arrived before the man himself, and soon the group was surrounded by people wielding iron axes and long blades.

Zhang Qinglin looked toward the source. The newcomer stood before the burly man and, with a swift kick, sent him flying. Clutching the bloody hatchet, he planted himself in front of Zhang Qinglin and his friends.

“Brother Ma, you’re not being considerate. You travel all the way to Siyue County and don’t even visit my home. Nanshan is about to be developed; you shouldn’t be causing trouble here.” His voice was bright and steady, mature and composed. Behind him, a row of people stood ready.

The speaker held a folding fan, gazing ahead with a refined and deep demeanor.

“Look—that woman is here too,” Old Seven quavered, holding his leg.

“Wanqing?” Zhang Qinglin and Cheng Che both saw that Wanqing stood beside the man, along with the person who had escaped the underground chamber with her.

The once clear sky suddenly grew dark with swirling clouds; in Wuzhou, even the weather changed faster than flipping a page.

The half painting Zhang Qinglin had thrown was now in the man’s hands. He smiled lightly after examining it and handed it to Wanqing.

Boss Ma’s face darkened. He coughed twice. “Zhao Ruilong, your people have injured mine. How should this be resolved? Don’t you owe me an explanation?”

Zhao Ruilong laughed coldly. “Ma Saike, you want explanations on my turf? It seems you don’t know me well enough. If you want answers, let’s see if you can even make it out of Nanshan today. Go!”

At his command, those wielding iron axes surged forward.

Zhao Ruilong waved his fan and turned away, vanishing in moments.

Seeing the situation shift, Zhang Qinglin grabbed Dazhuang and dodged through the chaos.

Jiang Xinyue and Cheng Che, supporting the wounded Old Seven, moved toward a quieter spot.

The scene was overwhelming—clearly a case of the many bullying the few. Ma Saike glared viciously at the spot where Zhao Ruilong had disappeared, wishing he could tear him apart on the spot.

“Qinglin, watch out!” Jiang Xinyue set Old Seven down and saw someone with a short blade sneaking up behind Zhang Qinglin. She stood and shouted urgently.

The blade nicked Zhang Qinglin’s shoulder before he could react, drawing blood. He grimaced, shielding Dazhuang. The attacker lunged again, aiming for his chest, but at that critical moment a black leather boot appeared, kicking the short blade from the assailant’s hand and knocking him to the ground.

“Hurry, come with me. Don’t hesitate—I won’t harm you,” Wanqing whispered as she approached Zhang Qinglin.

“Do you think I’d believe you now?” Zhang Qinglin stared at her.

Wanqing bent close, hooking her arm through his. Her bright eyes glanced at him. “If I meant you harm, I wouldn’t have waited until now. Besides, you’re working with my cousin—I wouldn’t betray her. What you want to know, I’ll tell you later. Let’s go.”

“Grandma... Grandma...” Dazhuang cowered, hugging his head.

Zhang Qinglin looked at Wanqing and their surroundings; there was no time to hesitate. Enduring the pain in his shoulder, he grabbed Dazhuang’s clothes. “Dazhuang, get up. I’ll take you to find your grandma.”

Wanqing led them down a narrow path. Suddenly, Zhang Qinglin stopped, glancing back at the melee. His face was grave. “What about Cheng Che, Yueyue, and Old Seven?”

“Don’t worry—they’ve been taken away safely,” Wanqing replied, moving ahead.

Following her through the woods and down the mountain, thunder rumbled overhead, and soon torrential rain poured from the sky.

A car was waiting at the foot of the mountain. The three climbed in and drove slowly away from Nanshan.

Wanqing handed Zhang Qinglin a towel; he pressed it to his bleeding shoulder, gazing out the window at the rain-drenched, smoke-laden mountaintop.

The rain had come just in time—it seemed even heaven was helping them.

Had it not rained, the sounds of fighting and the blaze might have attracted the police, leading to trouble.

This downpour would extinguish the burning cave and wash away the blood from the clearing...

Zhang Qinglin leaned back in his seat, glancing sideways at Dazhuang, who huddled and trembled in fear. “Don’t worry. We’ll find your grandma.”

(Chapter under review after revisions, which are taking a bit longer than expected—please forgive me. Some characters have changed; you can revisit earlier parts after the edits are complete. Apologies for any shortcomings, and thank you all for your support!)