When I went home for Chinese New Year, I spent a million times more money on my foreign wife.

Chen Yang was still savoring that soft, sweet "husband," but his good mood was instantly shattered.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sweeping over them with little warmth.

Several energetic young men had somehow gathered around the carriage.

The one in charge wasn't very old, but he looked older than his age.

She wore a short, tight-fitting mink coat, with skinny jeans that were pulled so tight they exposed her ankles, and a gold chain around her neck that was thick enough to tether a dog.

This look is typical of a nouveau riche from a small town, the kind that hasn't fully evolved yet.

The man's face was flushed, and he reeked of alcohol. His small eyes, squeezed shut by his flesh, were scanning Katyusha's body like searchlights.

That look in his eyes was less like he was looking at a beautiful woman and more like he was looking at a piece of freshly cooked pork belly—so greedy it made you want to vomit.

The henchmen behind him were also dressed like "villains," shaking their legs and shrugging their shoulders; anyone who didn't know better would think they had lice.

Chen Yang chuckled inwardly; there were always some blind fools.

The one who just spoke was this leader, the "mink-fur monster." He didn't treat Chen Yang like a human being at all, completely ignoring him.

"Little sister, it must be so cold traveling alone. Come with me, I'll take you over there to get something warm, I guarantee it'll warm you up."

Such vulgar pickup lines, coupled with that frivolous tone, are utterly low-class.

Although Katyusha's Chinese vocabulary is limited and she can't understand those complicated slang terms, she is a girl who grew up in a fighting nation.

In the forests of Siberia, the predatory look in a hunter's eyes for his prey needs no translation.

Her deep blue eyes instantly turned frosty.

The body, which had been leaning lazily against Chen Yang's shoulder like a Persian cat, suddenly sat up straight.

Seeing this, the surrounding tourists not only dared not intervene, but also retreated, fearing that they would be implicated.

"Isn't this Wang Wenchao? Drunk again, causing trouble?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down! That's a notorious mad dog, someone who's got a lot of money. Anyone who messes with him is doomed."

"What a pity for that young couple. The guy is quite handsome, but he's probably going to be in trouble this time."

Chen Yang took in all the whispers around him.

He neither slammed his fist on the table like a protagonist in a shonen manga, nor did he swallow his anger like a coward.

He simply reached out and shielded Katyusha behind him.

Chen Yang merely parted his thin lips and uttered a single word:

"roll."

The voice was soft, and the tone was flat.

Wang Wenchao's lewd smile froze.

He is quite well-known in Harbin.

Apart from his father, no one dared to speak to him like that.

Especially this guy in front of me, who looks fair-skinned and obviously a pretty boy.

"Hold!"

Wang Wenchao instantly exploded, his chubby face trembling with rage. "Who the hell do you think you are? You're asking for it, aren't you?"

He pointed at Chen Yang's nose, spitting everywhere: "Don't you even know who I, Wang Wenchao, am! In this area, I can do whatever I want! Since you don't know what's good for you, don't blame me for being unreasonable!"

"If you don't leave with your girl here drinking with me today, you're not leaving here alive!"

When the henchmen behind him saw their boss lose his temper, they immediately surrounded him, rolling up their sleeves and cursing under their breath. Some even started pulling on the reins of the carriage.

The driver was so anxious that he kept stamping his feet. He wanted to persuade the driver but didn't dare to go forward. He could only stand by and watch helplessly.

Despite the tense situation, Chen Yang remained calm and composed.

He even felt a little like laughing.

Are all the villains' lines the same? There's no originality at all.

Chen Yang's disregard was the greatest humiliation for someone like Wang Wenchao who was extremely concerned about his image.

"You little bastard, I think you're just asking for death!"

Wang Wenchao roared and, fueled by alcohol, suddenly reached out and grabbed directly at Chen Yang's collar.

The way they were acting clearly indicated that they wanted to drag Chen Yang off the carriage and beat him up.

Chen Yang didn't even lift his eyelids.

Although the system had just rewarded him with [Grandmaster-level Fighting Skill], giving him confidence that he could make this fatso kneel on the ground and sing "Conquer" in a second.

But to be honest, he felt too dirty to even touch this kind of garbage.

Just as he was about to kick the person away, the atmosphere behind him suddenly changed.

A chill ran down his spine, and it suddenly erupted.

Chen Yang paused slightly, then stopped what he was doing.

Katyusha behind him is no longer the naive girl who only knows how to eat sausage and drink vodka.

Her body hunched slightly, and the explosive power of her muscles that she displayed in that instant was like that of a female hunter on the Siberian wilderness.

Is this... the bloodline of a warrior race awakening?

Chen Yang's lips curled into a playful smile. He simply withdrew his strength and even leaned back with interest, adopting a "watching the show" posture.

He knew Katyusha must have received some training, and he would let her play with it if she wanted to.

Wang Wenchao's large hand, whistling through the air, was about to grab Chen Yang's collar.

His face was now completely contorted with a ferocious smile, as if he could already see Chen Yang kneeling on the ground begging for mercy.

however.

Just when his fingertips were less than five centimeters away from Chen Yang.

A fleeting afterimage flashed by.

Those were Katyusha's hands. Fair, slender, and resembling the finest mutton-fat jade, soft and boneless.

But this hand, which looked like it could only play the piano or hold a wine glass, grabbed Wang Wenchao's wrist with terrifying speed, arriving before him.

Fast, too fast.

Before Wang Wenchao could even react to what was happening, he felt as if his wrist was being tightly clamped by an iron clamp, unable to move at all.

He froze for a moment, then instinctively tried to break free.

Katyusha was expressionless; her blue eyes held no human emotion, only pure indifference.

next second.

She slightly turned her wrist and exerted force.

The movements were swift and decisive, like breaking off a useless, withered branch.

"Snap!"

A sharp, teeth-grinding cracking sound rang out, particularly jarring in the noisy scenic area.

Then, a brief pause.

Then, a bloodcurdling scream, like a pig being slaughtered, rose into the sky.

"ah--!!!"

Wang Wenchao was in so much pain that he knelt down. His hand, which had been so arrogant just moments before, was now bent at an extremely strange 90-degree angle and hung limply at his sides.

The entire site was petrified.

Seeing this, Chen Yang couldn't help but give his wife a thumbs up in his heart.

That feel, that power, that's ruthless.

He leisurely straightened his collar, which had been ruffled by the wind, and looked at Wang Wenchao, who was rolling on the ground in pain, his tone still as calm as ever, a tone that could infuriate anyone:

"I told you to get lost a long time ago, but you wouldn't listen. Now look what happened, you've injured your hand for nothing."