A Life of Attributes Starting as a Nobleman in the Republic of China Era

"Then... shall we arrange it this way?" Chen Qichuan looked around and asked.

"Wait a minute." Chen Che lowered his head slightly, pondered for a moment, and then looked at Mike. "There's one more thing."

"Go ahead," Chen Qichuan said.

Chen Che pointed to the microphone: "I'm a little worried about letting him be in charge of protecting Yi Yatou."

A smile crept onto Chen Che's lips. He looked at Mike, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Shall we spar a bit?"

Upon hearing this, Mike was taken aback for a moment, then a smile that was both helpless and eager to try appeared on his face.

He glanced at Dong Yi and said to Chen Che in slightly broken Chinese, "Young Master Chen, what...does this mean?"

Dong Yi said timidly, "Brother Che, Uncle Mike is very capable! He is an agent of the British MI6, specializing in the protection of VIPs."

"Agent?" Chen Che raised an eyebrow slightly. "Isn't that intelligence gathering? It's a completely different thing from being a bodyguard."

Mike's competitive spirit was ignited by these words.

He took off his suit jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing a pair of muscular arms: "Since Young Master Chen wants to give it a try, then I'll make a fool of myself. But let's make a promise, we'll stop here."

Lu Yu smiled, and Chen Qichuan didn't stop him. Instead, he put down his teacup with interest and stood up.

In the center of the newly renovated training room, Chen Che and Mike stood facing each other on the solid wood ring.

Mike held his fists under his chin, adopting a standard boxing stance, and moved back and forth lightly.

His eyes were sharp, like a tiger eyeing its prey.

Chen Che simply stood there casually, his hands hanging naturally at his sides, without even a basic defensive stance.

"Please." Chen Che said calmly.

Mike frowned, feeling a bit displeased at being slighted.

He stomped forward with his left foot and thrust his right fist out like a spring in a standard jab stance, fast and precise, aiming straight for Chen Che's face.

Chen Che tilted his head slightly, and the fist grazed his ear, narrowly missing him.

Mike was not surprised and followed up with a left hook that swept straight at Chen Che's ribs.

Chen Che did not retreat, but instead took half a step forward, his body slightly turned to the side, and Mike's fist slid past his clothes.

At the same time, Chen Che's right hand, like a nimble snake emerging from its hole, gently rested on Mike's wrist, pulling and guiding it smoothly.

Mike felt a strange force pulling him forward, causing his body to involuntarily lean forward and stagger.

He was terrified and quickly adjusted his center of gravity.

However, Chen Che's next move was even faster. He slid his hand up Mike's arm, gently pressed on Mike's shoulder, and then exerted force.

Mike felt a numbness in half of his body, and the strength in his entire arm was instantly dissipated. He staggered back three steps, his back nearly hitting the ropes.

The room was completely silent.

Mike looked down at his trembling right hand, his eyes filled with disbelief.

He had trained at the Military Intelligence Bureau for many years and experienced countless real battles, but he had never encountered a skill that was close to the level of "Martial Venerable".

Mike fell silent.

He recalled the moment Chen Che touched his wrist; if Chen Che had a knife, the tendons in his right hand would have been severed.

"Young Master Chen, I admit defeat." Mike let out a long breath and nodded solemnly to Chen Che. "You're right, I am indeed... not suitable to protect Miss Dong."

Chen Che stepped forward and patted Mike on the shoulder: "Mike, don't misunderstand, I'm not trying to get rid of you. On the contrary, I hope you can stay."

Mike was taken aback.

Chen Che continued, "You've worked in the Military Intelligence Bureau; you understand intelligence, firearms, and combat. We don't understand any of that. I need you to stay and integrate all of this for us, using modern security methods to build a 'private army' for the four major families."

He looked at Dong Yi, his gaze softening slightly: "As for protecting Yi'er... my father will find another suitable martial arts expert. Until then, you must carry a gun when you go out, preferably a shotgun."

Dong Yi's lips moved, but she ultimately said nothing. She knew this was the biggest concession Chen Che could make.

"Are you carrying a gun?" Chen Che asked.

Mike nodded, lifted his shirt to reveal the Webley MK IV British revolver tucked into his waistband.

Chen Che nodded slightly and said, "The caliber is a bit small; we need larger-caliber British weapons."

The tactical telescopic baton that Smith helped Chen Che build made him admire the craftsmanship of the British.

At this moment, Chen Qichuan spoke up: "Mike, if you can contact British arms dealers, we would be happy to purchase a large quantity of new weapons at a reasonable price."

"No matter what method you use, we can arrange it." He flashed that sly businessman's smile again. "Do you understand what I mean?"

Mike paused for a moment, then slowly said, "Boss Chen, you mean... light and heavy machine guns, mortars? These things are strictly controlled in Britain; they can't be bought with money."

Chen Qichuan turned around, and that enigmatic smile, typical of businessmen, reappeared on his face.

"That's why I said, 'No matter what method you use.'" He paused. "Mike, you've worked in the Military Intelligence Bureau, you should know that some businesses don't operate through the proper channels. How many weapons are reported damaged or destroyed in the British concession's arsenals every year? How many arms ships 'sank' en route to the Far East?"

"If these weapons are meant to protect the lives of innocent people, to prevent the people of this land from being wantonly bullied," Mike's lips curled into a slightly upturned smile, revealing a restrained yet confident English gentleman's expression, "then I would be happy to try to contact some of my friends for you."

Dong Yi tugged at Chen Qichuan's sleeve and whispered, "Mike's family was once awarded a knighthood by the Queen of Britain, and they admire true chivalry."

"Chivalry?" Chen Che muttered to himself, somewhat dismissive, but not saying anything.

He turned to Chen Qichuan: "Father, do you think this arrangement is acceptable?"

Chen Qichuan's eyes were full of satisfaction: "You brat, you're becoming more and more like your father."

It was past noon. Chen Che made a phone call to the hotel front desk and ordered a sumptuous lunch, which everyone enjoyed together on the balcony.

The Huangpu River, like a golden satin softened by the sunlight, lazily stretches to the horizon, with countless fragments of gold swirling in the waves, dazzling the eyes. A white egret, startled from the reeds on the opposite bank, circles twice over the open fields before settling back into the lush greenery.

From a naive young master from a wealthy family who only knew how to indulge in pleasure and debauchery, Chen Che has, in just a few months, grown into a respected representative of the four major families in Shanghai, having weathered life-and-death trials.

When I first started practicing martial arts, I took it one step at a time, all for the purpose of self-defense.

After several brushes with death, Chen Che is now genuinely fascinated by the feeling of proving one's potential and breaking through physical limits in extreme situations of destruction and rebirth.

Do the Cangming and Chongchi residing within him have even more room for evolution?

Who exactly is Yu Bansheng? And who is the powerful figure behind the Green Gang? In the turbulent city of Shanghai, are there any new unknowns? The game between the four major families has only just begun, yet it is already fraught with danger.

Chen Che felt inexplicably excited when he thought about it.