In the 90s, you could acquire max-level skills every 14 days.

Only one word remained in Zhang Yong's mind.

back.

He kicked the man in the vest in the chest, and the man curled up in pain.

Zhang Yong couldn't be bothered to look at it for another second.

He took two steps to the motorcycle, climbed on, and twisted the throttle with his right hand—

"Buzz—!"

Hot air rushed into my ears.

He couldn't hear anything anymore.

The streetlights receded into the distance, and the outlines of the buildings in the Jinsong residential area drew ever closer.

Zhang Yong slammed on the brakes in front of the iron gate of the residential area, leaving a long, black tire mark on the rear wheel, and the smell of burnt rubber wafted in the night wind.

The car hadn't even come to a complete stop when the person had already fallen out.

The light in the guardhouse was on. Grandpa Chen was sitting at the door with an enamel mug in his hand when he heard the noise and quickly stood up.

"Yongzi, your house—"

Zhang Yong didn't stop at all.

He rushed across the yard in two strides and stomped up the stairs.

When he reached the corner on the seventh floor, he abruptly stopped.

The door to room 808 was closed.

But there was a smell of smoke in the hallway, not the brand Zhang Defa usually smoked, but the good kind of cigarette.

Zhang Yong closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Simply being furious won't help.

He placed the canvas bag at his feet, took out a piece of manuscript paper and half a pencil from his pocket, squatted down in the stairwell, and quickly wrote a few lines.

Then tear the manuscript paper in half, throw one half on the ground, and hold the other half in your palm.

He pulled the crowbar out of the canvas bag with his right hand and gripped it tightly.

Then stand up straight and push the door open.

The door wasn't locked.

"Squeak—"

The living room was filled with smoke.

The living room was smoky and gray, and the ceiling fan whirred overhead, but couldn't dispel the stuffy heat.

A middle-aged man was sitting crookedly on the sofa.

He wore a thin jacket, black trousers, and gleaming leather shoes, with a yellowed piece of paper clutched between his fingers.

He crossed his legs, his toes wobbling back and forth.

On the coffee table next to it were two file folders, and the cups and towels that used to be on the table were scattered all over the floor.

Li Guilan huddled at the kitchen doorway.

Her face was deathly pale, her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she had already cried a lot.

Zhang Defa stood in the middle of the living room.

He stood ramrod straight, his right hand gripping the oversized open-end wrench—the one he'd taken with him on his last trip to Tongxian.

It's made of pure steel and weighs two and a half pounds.

As the man in the jacket saw Zhang Yong enter, he slowly exhaled smoke from his nostrils and looked Zhang Yong up and down.

"Oh, you're back."

He tapped the yellowed paper in his hand with the butt of his cigarette.

"Young man, have a seat. Your dad and I are discussing serious matters."

Zhang Yong did not sit down.

He leaned the crowbar against the door frame and glanced at Zhang Defa.

"Dad, it's okay."

Zhang Yong turned his head and looked at the man in the jacket on the sofa.

"What serious business are you talking about? I'd like to hear too."

The man took a drag of his cigarette. "Your family owes money and hasn't paid it back. I'm here to collect the debt."

Zhang Defa replied sullenly.

"I said I didn't know, but he wouldn't leave."

The man in the jacket turned the yellowed paper over and showed it to Zhang Yong.

It was a handwritten IOU.

The handwriting was crooked and illegible, the paper was yellowed, and it read "Zhang Dewang" with the amount listed as "Five Hundred Yuan".

"Your dad's relative from his hometown, Zhang Dewang, owes Brother Ma money." The man in the jacket flicked his cigarette ash, which fell next to the enamel mug. "Principal and interest, one thousand two hundred."

He crossed his legs and spoke very casually, as if he were at home.

"I figured we're all surnamed Zhang, family, so helping out to pay it back isn't a big deal. Don't you think so?"

Zhang Yong looked down at the IOU.

"This IOU is written in Zhang Dewang's name."

"But my dad's name is Zhang Defa."

He reached out and took the IOU, looked it over halfway, and found that it had no guarantor's signature and the format was incorrect.

"First of all, whether my dad and Zhang Dewang are related is none of your business. Debts should be repaid by the creditors; my dad didn't act as a guarantor for him."

Zhang Yong tossed the IOU onto the coffee table.

"Secondly, the principal of five hundred yuan was turned into one thousand two hundred, more than doubling. This kind of compound interest is illegal these days, and you don't have to pay back the interest that exceeds the regulations."

The man in the jacket held his cigarette between his fingers, half-burnt, but didn't move it.

"Tell me, what exactly do you want after coming all this way to my house?"

The living room became quiet.

The ceiling fan whirred and spun, blowing hot air onto everyone's faces.

The man in the jacket finally couldn't keep up the smile. He stubbed out his cigarette on the side of the coffee table, the butt sticking out onto the outside of his enamel mug.

"Okay, Zhang Yong."

He stood up, appearing taller than when he was sitting.

"I'm not going to play dumb with you anymore. Let's put the IOU aside for now. I came here today to see you, not for this five hundred yuan."

His tone changed, becoming more serious.

"What happens in Tongxian and Baoding is none of your business."

"We're all running legitimate businesses. If you keep causing trouble, none of us will have anything to eat."

"If you're good at writing, then focus on writing your articles. Stay away from oil-related matters."

"You saw it today too—"

He took a step forward.

"Your building, your parents' commute route, is right under our noses."

The voice just fell.

Zhang De launched the attack.

A two-and-a-half-pound open-end wrench was brought horizontally and placed against the side of the jacket-wearing man's neck.

"Try saying it again."

Zhang Defa's voice was deep.

"You came into my house, bullied my wife, and now you're threatening my son."

The metal side of the wrench was pressed against the man's neck, cold to the touch.

"Do you believe I can smash your head off with a wrench?!"

The man in the jacket's Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

He took half a step back and smiled, but it was a forced smile.

"Wow, the old man has quite a temper."

He reached up and straightened his collar.

"Don't worry. I have brothers downstairs, and your family—"

He hadn't finished speaking.

Zhang Yong made a move.

He's too fast.

[Driving Lv.6: Nerve reflexes at full power.]

Two steps away, you'll be there in the blink of an eye.

Zhang Yong grabbed the jacketed man's right wrist with his left hand and flipped it outwards—this is a technique used by auto mechanics to remove clamps, locking the wrist in place.

At the same time, hook your right foot around the opponent's ankle and pull them back.

The man in the jacket hadn't even uttered a single word.

"Bang--!"

He slammed his back against the edge of the dining table, sending teacups and chopstick holders tumbling to the floor.

Zhang Yong didn't give him any time to catch his breath, directly twisting his arms behind his back and pressing him face down on the dining table.

His face was pressed against the table, unable to move.

The man in the jacket struggled a couple of times, but the pain in his shoulder joint made him completely powerless.

Zhang Yong's voice came from above his head, very close.

"Those two downstairs—"

Zhang Yong applied a little more force.

"They've been lying in the alley for a while now."

The man in the jacket had his face twisted on the dining table, his eyes rolling upwards in disbelief.

Didn't we agree that apart from Zhang Defa, who's a bit tough, the rest of this family are all weaklings?

"You! You touched me, Brother Ma won't let this go—"

Whether he lets me go or not is none of your business!

Zhang Yong raised his arm another half an inch.

"You should worry about yourself. Forging IOUs and extorting money, who knows how long you'll be in jail!"

The man in the jacket was still howling.

"I didn't forge the IOU! It's genuine..."

Zhang Defa was about to step forward and ask.

"Knock knock knock—!"

There was a knock on the door from the outside.

Grandpa Chen's voice came from outside the door, panting.

"Xiao Zhang! Xiao Zhang! Are you home?"

"There's a guy with a briefcase looking for you! He's right behind me!"

Zhang Yong's eyes flickered.

He used his free left hand to pull out the note he had written earlier from his pocket, and turned to open half of the door.

Besides Grandpa Chen, he also saw someone else who was quite unexpected.

Zhang Yong paused for a moment, then took his hand out of his pocket and shook hands firmly with Grandpa Chen.

......