Urban: Super God-Ring System

C22 – Ghostfreak

Mr. Zhen flashed a smug smile. “You may be under suspicion of cheating, but let’s face it, we’re not your average gamblers. Let’s all just take our money back and call this round void.”

No one at the gambling table made a move. The winnings belonged to Wen Huaimu, and they knew better than to cross Miss Zhuang over a few million.

The tension was palpable as everyone remained still, understanding the unspoken agreement. Mr. Zhen’s displeasure was evident as he turned his gaze to the short-haired young man beside him.

The young man offered a wry smile, equally reluctant to act.

“Fine, if none of you want the money, then I’ll consider it my victory,” Mr. Zhen declared through clenched teeth, his voice laced with irritation.

“So this is the infamous Nighty Night, Old Mr. Leng’s establishment. Quite the iron fist you wield.” Miss Zhuang’s anger was barely contained as her icy stare settled on Mr. Zhen, openly taunting the club’s owner.

At her words, a wave of discomfort swept over the gamblers, their faces betraying their anxiety. Clearly, they were itching to leave but lacked any plausible excuse.

“Not satisfied? I can clarify things for you. Visit my room tonight, and I’ll show you the true meaning of ‘domineering,'” Mr. Zhen boasted, his arrogance swelling.

“I’d like an explanation now,” Miss Zhuang retorted with a cold laugh, reaching for her phone. But before she could dial, the door to the eighth-floor gambling hall swung open, and a confident, cheerful laugh preceded the newcomers. “Folks, it looks like you’re not exactly enjoying yourselves.”

The trio from the fifth-floor monitoring room stepped in, led by a slender young man with striking looks. Behind them stood the reception manager of Nighty Night, Manager Sima.

“Leng Hao, this was your invitation, but I’m far from impressed with this place,” Miss Zhuang said, her expression growing frostier upon recognizing the arrivals.

Leng Hao managed a strained smile. “You’ve won quite a sum from me already. I had hoped to turn a profit from you.”

“Money isn’t the issue. What matters is that I’m not pleased right now,” Miss Zhuang dismissed Leng Hao’s attempt at levity without a second thought.

Leng Hao’s face twisted into a grimace as he glanced at the smug Mr. Zhen, a knot of conflict tightening in his chest.

Truth be told, Leng Hao really didn’t want to cross Miss Zhuang. Yet, Mr. Zhen was no simple matter either; his father wielded considerable power, and Leng Hao was equally reluctant to offend him.

Leng Hao found himself in a quandary.

“Mr. Leng, can’t handle it? Then I’ll take care of it myself,” Miss Zhuang declared, not allowing Leng Hao any opportunity to interject, as she dialed a number on her phone.

“Zhuang Xian, I’m being threatened,” she stated, and promptly ended the call.

“Don’t frighten me, beautiful,” Mr. Zhen said, unfazed by Miss Zhuang. He grinned as he appraised her stunning figure, his gaze brimming with a strong desire to claim her.

Moments later, the hall’s door was flung open with force, and Miss Zhuang’s two muscular bodyguards entered, their expressions icy.

“Zhuang Xian, Zhuang Junjie, I want his hand,” Miss Zhuang commanded, pointing directly at Mr. Zhen.

The bodyguards remained silent, their eyes fixed on Mr. Zhen.

Leng Hao sensed trouble brewing. If anything happened to Mr. Zhen here, he’d have a tough time explaining it.

“Miss Zhuang, let’s discuss this calmly,” he suggested.

Miss Zhuang glanced at Leng Hao with scorn. “Old Mr. Leng is the underground king of Anbury, and you, his only grandson, are disappointingly feeble.”

Leng Hao’s anger flared. He was on the verge of slapping Miss Zhuang.

He didn’t fear Mr. Zhen. Had it not been for his father’s constant reminders not to stoop to base methods, he would have taken Mr. Zhen’s life long ago.

Witnessing Leng Hao’s facial twitch, Miss Zhuang smirked coldly and commanded Zhuang Xian and Zhuang Junjie, “Go ahead, attack.”

“Ghostfreak, do your thing,” Mr. Zhen said, still composed, his eyes alight with anticipation.

At Mr. Zhen’s command, Zhuang Xian and Zhuang Junjie halted, assuming defensive stances in alarm.

“We have an uninvited guest!”

The entire hall erupted in astonishment. Only Wen Huaimu maintained his smile, observing the scene with an air of inscrutability.

“Who is this master?”

No one questioned Mr. Zhen’s assertion. Besides Zhuang Xian and Zhuang Junjie, both Leng Hao and the flippant young man grew serious, their eyes scanning the room with wary alertness.

“Three years ago, I took out someone from Hong Kong’s Zhuang family.”

At that moment, a chilling voice echoed through the vast hall.

Upon hearing it, everyone held their breath.

They could hear the voice but couldn’t see its source. Were they about to encounter a ghost?

“I despise hypocritical women like you, but you’re easy on the eyes. Serve me well tonight, and I’ll make you my queen,” Mr. Zhen said, eyeing Miss Zhuang with disdain as he sneered contemptuously.

“Because of that remark, your family has lost its right to exist. Zhuang Xian, take him down,” Miss Zhuang commanded, her anger boiling over.

Zhuang Xian, on high alert, responded with a wry smile, “Madam, there’s a master among us. I fear we’re no match for him.”

“What?” Miss Zhuang was taken aback.

“Hahahaha, I told you, you’re mine tonight. Ghostfreak, make your move!” Mr. Zhen bellowed with a laugh, his arrogance unchecked.

A whooshing sound filled the air as two beams of red light shot from the chandelier above, aimed at Zhuang Xian and Zhuang Junjie.

Both seasoned warriors, Zhuang Xian and Zhuang Junjie, instinctively dodged the incoming assault, narrowly evading the red beams.

The lights struck the carpet, revealing two red iron rods adorned with barely discernible ghostly symbols.

“You’re Ghostfreak, the fifth-ranked assassin on the Leaderboard!” Leng Hao’s carefree companion blurted out, his face turning pale.

“Kid, you’re quite knowledgeable to recognize my ghost nails,” the voice remarked.

A white silhouette flashed down from above, revealing a gaunt middle-aged man with a sinister countenance.

“Ghostfreak, weren’t you killed by the Northeastern Arrow Demon a year ago? How are you still alive?” the young man asked, bewildered.

Ghostfreak gave the young man a cold once-over and scoffed, “You’re well-informed. I see your internal energy is even spilling out, indicating your martial arts have reached the Acquired Middle Period. Impressive for your age.”

“Senior, I’m flattered, but tonight’s troubles are for us younger ones. Could you please refrain from intervening?” the young man requested earnestly.

“Hmph, are you trying to tell me how to do my job?” Ghostfreak’s face turned even icier.

“I wouldn’t presume to,” the young man replied, his tone deferential yet vigilant. Ghostfreak was nothing short of a criminal.