Chapter Sixty-Four: The Qiao Family Mansion

Faced with such a situation, Xiao Cheng could only keep his eyes down and his mind focused inward, but he soon realized that the two women seemed on the verge of coming to blows. He hurriedly stepped in to smooth things over—after all, when women gather, friction is bound to arise.

Bidding farewell to his sister-in-law, Xiao Cheng took Zhuo Qinglian and left the elevated inner ring road, heading straight for the Qiao family residence. Their destination was not far: the Kangle Residential Complex on Qinzhou South Road, also known by its old name, the Qiao Family Courtyard. It was about twenty kilometers away—a mere twenty-minute drive.

Zhuo Qinglian, for her part, was remarkably unburdened; she quickly cast aside her earlier displeasure with Ning Jingzhe and, throughout the car ride, peppered Xiao Cheng with questions about cultivation. The more time she spent immersed in the world of cultivation, the more she realized its depth and complexity, a world apart from the internal martial arts she had known.

Xiao Cheng answered every question, sharing his own experiences, which Zhuo Qinglian absorbed with delight.

Unaware of how quickly time passed, they soon arrived at the Kangle Residential Complex. It was a place of extraordinary luxury—uniformly mid-rise buildings resembling villas, with green spaces covering 60% or more of the grounds. For a residential complex, even a 30% green area would be rare, let alone 60%. Such figures were almost unimaginable even in all of Shanghai.

Even the Tomson Golf Villa District where Xiao Cheng lived boasted only 65% green space, and that was counting the golf course itself.

Without delay, and guided by intelligence from Crimson Security, Xiao Cheng went straight to the door of Qiao Junhao’s residence. He let his spiritual sense expand and found that only one person was inside—a broad, heavyset man, who must be Qiao Junhao.

With a thunderous crash, Xiao Cheng did not hesitate; he kicked the security door open with such force that the entire metal door flew off its hinges and slammed into the wall opposite, leaving a one-centimeter-deep footprint in the metal.

Inside, Qiao Junhao had been anxiously awaiting word from Yan Hongde, so preoccupied that he had skipped his usual card game and, in boredom, settled for the long-neglected television. Suddenly, a deafening noise shattered the silence, and he saw his alloy security door hurled across the room, imprinted with a deep footprint.

Someone had actually kicked the door off its frame with a single blow, leaving such a mark? Qiao Junhao was terrified, utterly baffled. Who could be kicking down his door in the dead of night? As he rose to his feet, he caught sight of a woman he never dreamed he would see—Zhuo Qinglian.

Wasn’t Zhuo Qinglian supposed to be dead? What was she doing here? Qiao Junhao stared wide-eyed at the bewitching figure before him, at a loss for words.

In his mind, once he had hired the people from Guanyu Security to assassinate Zhuo Qinglian, success was guaranteed. They had sent no fewer than twenty-seven men—no matter how skilled Zhuo Qinglian might be, escape should have been impossible.

“How… how are you here?” Qiao Junhao’s voice was dry with fear. He was, after all, just a businessman, now face-to-face with the infamous Black Widow—a woman rumored to kill without blinking. He was terrified.

He had not recognized Xiao Cheng at first glance, for Xiao Cheng had changed so much recently—his presence and bearing were wholly different from before.

“Oh! Are you wondering why I’m not dead?” Zhuo Qinglian’s smile was radiant, but her eyes were icy cold. “Because I have a good man by my side. That’s why I’m still alive.”

Indeed, had she been alone tonight, she would surely have died. Fortunately, Xiao Cheng had been with her, prepared for everything. The thought brought chills and relief in equal measure.

“Where’s Yan Hongde?” Qiao Junhao asked in surprise. He could not believe the plan had failed—had something gone awry?

“You’ll be seeing them soon enough. But that’s not important right now. I want to ask you a question. Besides Yan Hongde, who else was involved in your plan?” Xiao Cheng looked steadily at the plump, pale middle-aged man before him.

His son had been killed; seeking revenge was understandable. But Qiao Junhao had no idea what had really happened—the one who killed Qiao Yifeng was not Zhuo Qinglian but Xiao Cheng. Clearly, Qiao Junhao had been used by someone with ulterior motives. Xiao Cheng loathed such backstabbers; he would not be at ease until he found out who was behind it and tore them to pieces.

What’s more, unease had plagued him lately. His rebirth had changed so much—would the future now be wildly different from his memories, or perhaps even worse? He was desperate to root out and deal with the hidden enemy.

At Xiao Cheng’s imperious questioning, Qiao Junhao finally took a closer look at him. Xiao Cheng seemed utterly ordinary, though there was something familiar about him. “Who are you?”

“I’m Xiao Cheng. Now answer my question,” Xiao Cheng replied.

Xiao Cheng? The name rang a bell. Could it really be…? Qiao Junhao’s mind reeled with a terrifying possibility—could this be the only heir of the reclusive Xiao family, the infamous Young Master Xiao, whose deeds were whispered about in legend?

In his eyes, Zhuo Qinglian was fearsome, but not enough to truly terrify him. Xiao Cheng, however, was another matter entirely. The reclusive Xiao family was not someone he could afford to offend. The Qiao family might have some standing in Shanghai, but compared to a family that had endured since the Yuan Dynasty, it was like an ant before an elephant, not even in the same league.

He had no idea just how powerful the Xiao family truly was, but any family that had survived nearly a thousand years must possess unimaginable depth.

“Young Master Xiao, I didn’t realize it was you—I beg your pardon for not greeting you properly,” Qiao Junhao stammered, his once-fair face now ashen.

He understood now: it wasn’t that the mercenaries had missed Zhuo Qinglian, but rather that they had encountered Xiao Cheng. Naturally, a scion of such a family would have means to deal with mercenaries. But what was the connection between Zhuo Qinglian and Xiao Cheng?

If it were only Zhuo Qinglian, he might have managed; after all, she was merely the head of a club, and as the Qiao family’s second-in-command, he had the resources to deal with her.

But Xiao Cheng was different. Never mind his background—his temperament alone was enough. This was a man who did as he pleased; if he decided to kill, the Qiao family could do nothing. Rely on the law? Did families like his care about laws? After surviving four dynasties, what laws had they not seen?

“Enough with the pleasantries. Answer my question.”

Xiao Cheng found businessmen tiresome—always dodging and deflecting. Why couldn’t they just give a straight answer? Did they really think a few polite words could wipe away the matter at hand? How naïve.

Seeing Xiao Cheng’s impatience, Qiao Junhao’s heart raced. He hurried to answer, “Only Yan Hongde and I were involved in the plan. No one else.”

“No one else?” Xiao Cheng studied his sincere expression. He didn’t seem to be lying. Could it be that someone was manipulating events from the shadows, someone even Qiao Junhao didn’t know was involved? Xiao Cheng pressed on, “Let me ask you: how did you get in touch with Guanyu Security? And who told you Zhuo Qinglian was your son’s killer?”

At this, Qiao Junhao’s expression changed as if suddenly struck by a realization.

“Speak!” Xiao Cheng could see that Qiao Junhao had remembered something, though he seemed reluctant to say it.

“It was a lover of mine who told me Zhuo Qinglian killed my son. She claimed she had seen it happen with her own eyes. As for contacting Guanyu Security, I was put in touch through a masked man. I never saw his face, have no idea who he was.”

So it was the lover who told him—no wonder he was embarrassed.

“Doesn’t it strike you as odd that your lover could even recognize Zhuo Qinglian? What kind of masked man was it?” Xiao Cheng pressed. Zhuo Qinglian rarely appeared in public; even people at the recent She Mountain race hadn’t recognized her. How could Qiao Junhao’s lover have known her by name?

Other than members of the Qinglian Gang and a select few close associates, almost no one knew Zhuo Qinglian’s real name; in the underworld, she was simply known as the Black Widow.