Chapter 82: Mind Like a Fierce Tiger (2)

The Son-in-Law, Episode 2: The Pool of Hidden Strife

The boat house on the river bend outside Jiangning City.

“Shoot.”“Let him go.”“Shoot!”“You’ll die a miserable death.”“Who are you? Why have you tied me up?”“Er-lang’s mother—”“What have you done?”“Step back.”

In the dimly lit corridor of the boat house, there were no lamps. Only faint flickers from the kitchen fire and the oil lamp in the living room cast a soft glow from either end, creating an almost suffocating atmosphere of confrontation. A giant man, a crossbow, a sharp knife, blood, and a seemingly dying hostage, with water seeping over their feet. The giant roared, holding the crossbow, his menacing aura completely unrestrained. In contrast, the figure several meters away seemed disproportionate to him, but that hand simply held the sharp knife steadily, hooked against the hostage’s throat.

As the giant’s furious roars and threats carried across, the response came back directly. The voice was neither intense nor frivolous; it was brief, quiet, and steady, like a pillar firmly rooted in a raging torrent. At times, it seemed as if it might be submerged and swept away by the current, but the next moment, the spray would clear, and it would remain fixed, completely unchanged. Almost as soon as each of the giant’s words fell, a reply came instantly, without hesitation or sloppiness, momentarily pushing back the giant’s furious momentum.

The figure took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and said, word for word, “What have you… done to them?”

“Guess.”

“What have you done—?”

The roar was deafening, but the response came back, quiet and swift, even beneath the wave of sound: “If you like it so much, guess again.”

The giant’s jaw trembled as he stared at the figure, as if trying to devour him with his eyes, then took a deep breath and finally stepped back.

“I misjudged…”

“That’s good.” The only way out was through the living room. Ning Yi watched the giant’s steps and replied coldly, pushing the swaying hostage forward a step. Then, the other party slowly retreated another step…

“If they’re unharmed, we can talk.”

“Good.”

“As long as they’re not dead.”

“Good.”

“…Otherwise, I swear I’ll kill your whole family.”

“Good.”

“I’ll skin you alive and make sure you die a terrible death.”

“Good.”

“Ning Yi, Ning Liheng!”

Just a few steps, a few exchanges, with casual and perfunctory replies. The giant man had now reached the living room doorway. The lamplight illuminated his side. With his angry shouts, his expression twisted as if in a spasm, clearly in extreme fury over these answers. In normal circumstances, a scholar like this would be terrified just encountering him on the road.

Behind the hostage, the scholar, who had been cautiously peeking out with only one eye, now tilted his head, both eyes looking coldly. However, a moment later, the giant realized the scholar wasn’t reacting to him shouting the name. The gaze fixed on him, and then the scholar spoke, word for word: “…Keep retreating. Keep talking. Don’t. Stop. Now.”

Yang Yi slowly turned and stepped over the threshold separating the living room from the corridor.

The tiny lamplight flickered in the living room, casting his huge shadow toward the door. Just beside the door, Yang Heng hid, steel knife in hand, exchanging a glance with his retreating brother. From the moment he heard the first word, Yang Heng had not charged into the inner passage but had stood by the door, ready to react. In the corridor, Ning Yi watched the shadow shift, pushing the hostage forward. At this point, they could no longer see each other.

“Who sent you?”

“There are rules in this business.”

Yang Yi retreated, holding his crossbow, and kicked over a stool.

“You’ll never escape.”

“Mhm.”

“This is outside the city, no one will come to save you.”

“Oh.”

“Leave this house, and you’ll still die.”

“Good.”

“I admit I misjudged you, but you’re just a scholar. You’ll be afraid to take a wrong step… and you’ll die.”

Ning Yi’s figure appeared at the doorway, looking coldly at him, turning the hostage in another direction. Yang Yi shook his head.

“I, Yang Yi, can admit defeat, as long as you let my Yang family have an heir. Everything is negotiable.”

The lamplight was dim, and the room seemed to grow darker with the tense atmosphere of the standoff. By the door, Yang Heng leaned against the wall, steel knife in hand, his gaze wary. Nearby, Ning Yi was about to push the hostage in, the sharp knife still held. Yang Heng quietly watched the hand gripping the knife.

By the distant table, Yang Yi’s expression softened slightly: “I, Yang Yi, keep my word.”

Footsteps crossed into the room, and a slightly altered tone suddenly rang out: “How do we talk?”

At that very instant, the tension seemed to drop to its lowest point. By the wall, Yang Heng’s left hand twitched, subtly preparing to raise. The very next moment, a roar suddenly erupted.

“Look out for the stick—”

“Careful—”

The slightly lowered tension instantly soared to its peak. This was the first time the scholar, Ning Yi, had cried out. Lamp shadows swayed, figures swayed, the air whistled, and a dark blur swung ferociously towards Yang Heng. Yang Heng raised his knife to parry, and a straw rope snapped in the air.

A ceramic pot spun and flew, closing the distance with Yang Heng, who instinctively raised his elbow.

Crash!

“Aaaaaahhh—”

“You—”

“Shoot him—”

“I’ll kill you—”

“You’re dead! You’re dead!”

“Pull the trigger! Pull the trigger! Pull the trigger—”

In the dim lamplight of the room, fragments of the ceramic pot exploded outward in the darkness. Boiling oil splashed onto Yang Heng’s upper body. Immediately, screams of pain mixed with sizzling sounds of burning flesh. Yang Yi instantly raised his crossbow, roaring without any sign of relaxation, looking as if he would charge forward at once. Ning Yi pushed the hostage a few steps and rushed into the room, then pulled them towards a corner.

The shouts of the three people filled the entire room. Yang Heng’s elbow and upper body blocked much of the boiling oil, preventing it from directly hitting his head, but the area around one of his eyes was still affected. It was summer, and he was only wearing a thin shirt. Now, half his body was drenched in the boiling oil. Amidst his screams, he furiously swung his knife, splitting a nearby stool, still able to curse defiantly. Blisters rose on his face and body, making him look monstrous, as if he might pounce at any moment. Yang Yi, on the other side, shook his head vigorously.

“I don’t believe you’ll let him go now—”

“He wouldn’t dare kill Da-lang! He wouldn’t dare kill Da-lang!”

“Come on, try it. Why won’t you pull the trigger?”

“I won’t let you leave.”

“Kill him!”

“Come closer. No matter what happens to me, if anything goes wrong, this knife will cut his throat instantly…”

“You won’t leave this door today!”

“Block the door!”

“His windpipe will be torn open, blood will gush from his throat, mostly foam. Your son will, of course, feel the pain, and then he’ll find he can’t breathe…”

“If he dies, you die…”

“I’ll cut off your hand—”

“Do you know what it feels like not to be able to breathe? Imagine it, imagine it, like a fish out of water. His whole body will convulse, hands and feet flailing. His neck is already cut open. He might even try to scratch at it with his hands, and then there will be more blood, more blood on his hands and body, until he feels nothing at all. You could even sit and drink a cup of tea slowly while watching the process unfold, come on.”

“You’ll definitely die a more miserable death than him!”

“But he’s your son!”

The three people in the room were like three points of a standoff, occasionally shifting, maintaining their distance. Their speaking speeds were all extremely fast. Yang Yi held the crossbow, blocking the doorway, his tone seemingly resolute, the crossbow swaying as he tried to aim for Ning Yi’s vital points. Yang Heng, with his distorted face, was hot-tempered and vicious. Ning Yi spoke quietly and rapidly, staring at the two giants in the room. Amidst the roars, Yang Heng even feigned a lunge, and as Ning Yi subtly adjusted his position, Yang Heng retreated again.

“I won’t negotiate with you anymore. You won’t let my son go.”

“He absolutely wouldn’t dare to act.”

“If you move, I move.”

“No one is leaving today.”

“Let’s see who lasts longer, me or your son…”

“Aiya—”

Yang Heng suddenly roared, swinging his knife as if to charge. Ning Yi’s left hand, hidden behind his back, swiftly pulled out something, and tiny sparks flickered in the room. “Come on!” It was a flint he had brought from the kitchen. Yang Heng’s face was twisted in a grimace; he stopped his steps and shouted, “Throw it!”

“Of course, I’ll throw it.”

“Then throw it here!”

“If you dare, come over…”

Yang Heng lunged a step forward. Ning Yi waved his hand, and Yang Heng abruptly stopped, retreating backward. However, Ning Yi didn’t actually throw the flint. This repeated several times, and the tower-like giant seemed to have given up, continuously trying to get closer to Ning Yi. He was certain that Ning Yi would not dare to kill the hostage at the last moment, aiming to create chaos and an opening. Ning Yi, holding the knife with his right hand and securing the hostage, also shifted positions. Not far away, Yang Yi watched vigilantly with his crossbow. At one point, Yang Heng and Yang Yi exchanged a look, and Yang Heng suddenly lunged.

The tension in the room was already at its peak; all three were on edge. Ning Yi waved his hand, and Yang Heng shifted again. Then, with another loud shout, Yang Heng and Yang Yi exchanged places. The flint slipped from Ning Yi’s hand and flew toward Yang Heng.

Yang Yi was faster. He kicked over a stool, sending the flint flying. Yang Heng charged forward without reservation. Ning Yi, with a backhand grab, reached for the oil lamp on the side pillar. The next moment, the lamp didn’t budge; it was nailed to the pillar. Yang Heng moved closer, reaching for the sharp knife at his nephew’s throat. Yang Yi kicked away the obstructing stool and simultaneously pressed closer.

Ning Yi’s left hand swiftly plunged into the oil lamp, splattering out with kerosene.

The room darkened for an instant. Yang Heng’s left hand fiercely seized the sharp knife and pulled it away with force. The next moment, a dark fire ignited between Ning Yi and Yang Heng.

Boom!

Flames erupted and spread in two directions.

In that instant, Ning Yi used the wick and kerosene to ignite Yang Heng’s body, and at the same time, ignited his own left hand.

Amidst the violently bursting flames and Yang Heng’s screams, his hand still pulled the sharp knife away from his nephew’s neck. Ning Yi violently pulled the knife free, blood spurting in the firelight. On the other side, Yang Yi closed in, raising his crossbow. Ning Yi released the hostage, lunged to the side, and swung the knife, aiming directly at Yang Heng’s head.

“Aaaaahhh…”

“Yaaah—”

“Ah—”

A crossbow bolt flew past Ning Yi’s back. Yang Heng’s screams as he caught fire, Yang Yi’s shouts, and Ning Yi’s strenuous knife swings mingled together. Figures intertwined in that moment, and flames raged wildly. Yang Yi seized the opportunity, grabbed his son’s shoulder, and pushed him aside. When he tried to grab Ning Yi, he found nothing but air. Ning Yi had initially charged in the direction of Yang Heng’s swinging knife, but now he had rushed out with Yang Yi’s son. Yang Yi couldn’t react in time. He watched his brother ablaze, a sharp knife deeply embedded in his head, and as he chased after Ning Yi and his son, he suddenly realized a rope was tied between the two of them.

The blood-soaked scholar practically pushed the son to the other side of the room, then turned around, pulling an iron skewer from behind his back and pressing it against the son’s throat again, his gaze fixed on Yang Yi.

Yang Heng staggered back a few steps and collapsed in flames. The flames were not a fatal injury; if he had rushed out and jumped into the river, it wouldn’t have been fatal. But the knife strike Ning Yi landed on his head, taking advantage of his sudden panic and relentlessly pursuing, was indeed fatal.

Everyone was calculating. Just now, Yang Heng and Yang Yi had exposed a slight vulnerability to lure Ning Yi into throwing the flint. If Ning Yi hadn't been near the oil lamp at that moment, he probably wouldn't have thrown it so easily. After all, this room belonged to the Yang brothers; they knew the oil lamp was fixed, but the scholar certainly wouldn't. Yang Heng put himself in danger, intending to break the stalemate during that moment of hesitation. Who knew that the scholar would react with such ferocity in an instant, directly lighting his own hand to ignite the other person?

At the other end of the room, Ning Yi still held the hostage tightly in front of him. His left hand had initially clutched the hostage’s chest, and now the flames continued to burn fiercely. As Yang Yi turned with a gaze of sorrow and rage, Ning Yi stared back coldly. His burning left hand flickered a few times, then he tried to pat himself, but the kerosene stuck to his arm and wrist, making it impossible to extinguish the fire. Yang Yi watched his hand wave in the air again, then suddenly clench into a fist, and with a powerful backhand swing.

Crash!

Behind him was a large, black ceramic wine jar, whose walls were very thick. With that strike, Ning Yi must have put all his strength into it, shattering the wine jar with one punch. His hand was probably already fractured or even broken. The wine surged out. He plunged his left arm into the liquid to extinguish the flames, which sizzled and popped. His entire hand trembled slightly; it looked completely ruined.

Yet, his cold, unwavering gaze and his right hand, holding the iron skewer against the son’s throat, did not move at all. Only his furrowed brow twitched several times…

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