The Revenge of the Reborn Supreme Sovereign-Chapter 32 - 31: A Gift, A Familiar Gift!

He glanced down at the bullet suspended in mid-air before slowly reaching out and plucking it from the air. But the devilish smile on his face sent a chill through Zhao Yuhao, as if he had been plunged into an icy cavern.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Instinctively, Zhao Yuhao pulled the trigger again and again until the chamber was empty.

But without exception, the result was the same. The five bullets simply hung in the air after leaving the barrel, re-enacting a classic scene from a science fiction movie.

"Boss Zhao, any more tricks up your sleeve?" With a sweep of his hand, Qin Fan gathered the bullets into his palm. He looked at Zhao Yuhao and chuckled mockingly.

"You... you... who the hell are you? You’re not the Qin family’s outcast! You’re not that good-for-nothing!" The previously calm and composed Zhao Yuhao, who carried the air of a triad boss, began to panic, his words becoming incoherent. Beads of sweat layered his forehead as he swallowed hard, his voice trembling with terror.

"Whether I’m a good-for-nothing, we can set that aside for now," Qin Fan said with a laugh. "But you—you’re about to become one! Haha!"

After his laugh, the six bullets shot out from Qin Fan’s palm.

With a series of sharp whooshes, they buried themselves in Zhao Yuhao’s kneecaps.

The sickening sound of shattering bone erupted as crimson blood splattered everywhere.

"AARGH! My legs! My legs!"

His knees shattered, Zhao Yuhao collapsed to the floor. He curled into a ball, clutching his thighs, his face as pale as a sheet as he howled hysterically. He gasped for air, his voice trembling uncontrollably, each sound utterly chilling.

"Hmm, now for your hands," Qin Fan said, taking a step forward.

With that same terrifyingly wicked smile, he casually stepped on the man’s forearms. It seemed like such a light step.

CRACK! The sickening sound of splintering bone echoed from beneath his foot.

"My hands! AARGH! You’re a devil! A devil!"

Under Qin Fan’s control, Zhao Yuhao couldn’t even pass out. Instead, the excruciating pain from his four shattered limbs flooded his senses with terrifying clarity.

"A devil? No. Many people call me Shura," Qin Fan said with a slight smile, ignoring Zhao Yuhao’s desperate howls. "Come on, Boss Zhao. I’m taking you to meet someone."

With a single, precise kick, he sent the man flying several meters into an open elevator. Then, with his hands casually stuffed in his pockets, he followed him inside.

"Where are you taking me?! Where?! I’m not going! No!" As if he’d finally snapped, Zhao Yuhao screamed wildly from the elevator floor, his body wracked with mind-shattering pain. He was completely drenched in a cold sweat, as if he’d been submerged in water.

Not going? As if you have a choice.

Qin Fan glanced down at Zhao Yuhao’s horrific state and shook his head in contempt, not deigning to reply.

The elevator doors opened.

"DON’T MOVE!"

More than a dozen barrels—things Qin Fan regarded as no more threatening than Fire Sticks—were aimed straight at him. The gunmen holding them shouted in unison, their voices laced with fear.

"Scram. That’s your best choice," Qin Fan said, an unconcerned, almost harmless smirk on his face. As the words left his lips, he kicked Zhao Yuhao—who lay on the floor like a dead dog—sending him flying out of the elevator.

A sickening thud echoed as he landed. Zhao Yuhao coughed up mouthful after mouthful of blood, as if it were free. With each repeated kick, it felt as if his internal organs had all been violently rearranged.

Qin Fan swept his gaze over the gunmen and shook his head contemptuously. With his hands still in his pockets, he strolled casually out of the elevator.

Feeling his intangible pressure and witnessing Zhao Yuhao’s gruesome state, the armed men began to back away uncontrollably. Even the Fire Sticks in their hands trembled.

Fear isn’t always born from a display of strength. Sometimes, a single glance or a horrifying scene is enough to make people give you a wide berth. To these gunmen, it was clear that Qin Fan had reached that very realm.

He sauntered over to Zhao Yuhao, who could barely move, his twitching body the only sign he was still breathing. Ignoring the barrels still aimed at his back, Qin Fan swept his leg out again, kicking Zhao Yuhao’s spine.

Another series of sickening cracks rang out. No one knew just how many more bones of Jiangzhou’s notorious boss had been shattered. From that single, precise kick, Zhao Yuhao flew straight through the main doors, landing in a heap next to an SUV.

Can an army of ants crawling on the ground kill a normal person? Would a normal person even care about the ants behind him? Of course not. To Qin Fan, these so-called bodyguards and gunmen weren’t even as significant as ants.

Know your place, and you will live a long and healthy life. Act foolishly, and you’ll be sent to the Netherworld.

Encircled by the gunmen, Qin Fan took a step forward, and they all took a step back. With the gruesome sight of Zhao Yuhao serving as a backdrop, not one of them dared to be the first to fire.

A wildly malevolent expression on his face, Qin Fan fully unleashed the aura of a Shura Venerable in the Tangren Clubhouse—the very presence that looks down upon all creation with utter disdain.

He pulled open the SUV’s rear door. Like handling a sack of meat, Qin Fan grabbed the quadriplegic Zhao Yuhao and shoved him into the back. Then he rounded the car, got into the driver’s seat, and sped away.

Outside the Tangren Clubhouse, nearly every member of the staff had gathered at the entrance. They stared, utterly stunned, at the departing SUV.

Never in their wildest dreams could they have imagined someone would dare cause trouble at the Tangren Clubhouse, let alone cripple Zhao Yuhao and drag him away. Didn’t he know that Patriarch Ye himself backed the Tangren Clubhouse? Didn’t he know what a monumental figure Patriarch Ye was in both Jiangzhou and Lingnan?

Far from the city’s bustle, tucked away in a suburban corner, stood a manor of just over an acre surrounded by high walls. For the Ye Family’s headquarters, it was remarkably understated and anything but high-profile.

At this moment, the manor’s gates were all wide open for one simple reason: the Ye Family knew Qin Fan was coming, they just didn’t know when. To avoid any trouble, the family patriarch, Old Master Ye, had even given a direct order that any person or vehicle arriving was to be allowed through without being stopped.

Following his car’s navigation, Qin Fan shot past the bewildered guards and sped directly through the manor gates.

The roar of the engine was all the announcement needed. Hearing the unfamiliar sound, the three generations of the Ye family who had been waiting in the main hall hurried outside. As they saw Qin Fan’s face through the windshield, they quickly walked toward the approaching SUV and called out respectfully in unison, "Mr. Qin!"

SCREECH!

The SUV came to an abrupt halt, leaving fresh tire marks in the courtyard.

Qin Fan got out of the driver’s seat with a playful smirk. Looking at the ingratiating smiles of the Ye Family members, he curled his lip. "It’s my first visit, so I brought you a gift," he said, his gaze fixing on one man in particular. "Patriarch Ye, a gift you should be quite familiar with!"

A gift? A familiar one? The members of the Ye Family stared, completely bewildered.

Under Qin Fan’s cryptic smile, a sense of deep unease began to swell in Ye Jizu’s chest. He swallowed involuntarily, his brow furrowed with nervous tension.

As his words hung in the air, Qin Fan opened the rear door of the SUV. He reached in, grabbed the man curled up on the seat, and yanked him out.

In the blink of an eye, he tossed his captive forward.

THUD!

A loud bang echoed as the body hit the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. The broken form of Zhao Yuhao, limp as a dead dog, had been thrown heavily at Ye Jizu’s feet.