Chapter Twenty: The Demon and the Hero

Meanwhile, inside the psychological correction room.

Seven or eight young men dressed in military green pinned Lin Xiaolei to the operating table—some held her hands, others her feet—and then bound her wrists and ankles with cloth. Lin Xiaolei was just a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old girl. She tried to struggle, but she had no strength.

Yang Feikuang sat not far from the operating table. On the table lay a square-shaped device, its exact purpose unclear, covered in a tangle of wires. Further away stood an oxygen tank.

Usually, Yang Feikuang appeared amiable and gentle, but now his gaze flashed with a cold, twisted gleam. His face contorted into a demonic snarl as he looked at Lin Xiaolei and declared with unwavering conviction, “You’re addicted to the internet.”

“I’m not addicted,” Lin Xiaolei shook her head.

Yang Feikuang picked up the device and gently tapped its ends to Lin Xiaolei’s temples. “Does it hurt? Do you have internet addiction?”

“It hurts! It hurts! Doctor, what are you doing? Why does my head hurt so much?” Lin Xiaolei cried out in pain.

“It’s not the device. It’s your internet addiction. If you have it, it hurts. Tell me, what’s your name?” Yang Feikuang began adjusting the device. Moments ago, it was set to five milliamperes; now, he turned it up to eighty. Five milliamperes had already left Lin Xiaolei in considerable discomfort—eighty would be sixteen times worse.

The safe current for the human body is ten milliamperes. In fact, anything above six milliamperes can be fatal. Eighty is far beyond safety and could kill.

Yang Feikuang’s maximum setting was eighty milliamperes. He had used this to shock his so-called patients until their cries grew weak, and eventually, they could only lie on the table with vacant eyes, mumbling, “Uncle Yang, I was wrong, please forgive me.”

Those subjected to his treatment ended up kneeling before him, then before their parents—docile as dogs—and spent their lives forever trapped in Yang Feikuang’s shadow.

Normally, for new arrivals, he wouldn’t immediately use such a high current, starting instead with ten or twenty milliamperes. But seeing Lin Xiaolei’s resemblance to Tong Xianzi from West Lake Gate, a longing to destroy such beauty rose in his heart—his inner demon could barely contain its glee.

Yang Feikuang picked up the device, electric sparks flickering at its ends.

Lin Xiaolei sensed the impending danger. She tried to struggle, to retreat, to escape—but all she felt was despair.

She had never hated her parents before, no matter how strict they were. But staring at this demonic smile, hatred for her parents began to grow.

Why?

The device’s ends drew closer and closer to Lin Xiaolei.

Ten centimeters.

Six centimeters.

Three centimeters.

Two centimeters.

Boom!

The heavy wooden door to the psychological correction room was struck with tremendous force and flew off its hinges, crashing to the ground with a loud bang and a burst of dust. Though just a wooden door, it weighed dozens of pounds and was attached to the frame—yet it had been kicked clear across the room.

Such brute strength!

The seven or eight young men in military green, and Lin Xiaolei herself, were all stunned.

When the dust settled, there stood a man at the doorway—about one meter eighty tall, wearing a mask of the Red Child.

...

Shen Ye glanced at Lin Xiaolei on the operating table and, seeing she was unharmed, felt a wave of relief. Nothing had happened, thank goodness.

He looked at Yang Feikuang through the Eye of Justice. Above Yang Feikuang’s head appeared a line of text: “Yang Feikuang, professional doctor (innate sadist), has abused countless children by various means. Has killed three children due to excessive electric current. Sin value: seventy-five.”

Tsk, tsk, tsk! Rumors had long circulated that Yang Feikuang had electrocuted people to death, but there was never any proof. Now it seemed true. It made sense: ten milliamperes is the safe limit, but Yang Feikuang often used forty, seventy, eighty milliamperes. It would be strange if no one died. But his powerful connections always kept things quiet.

His sin value was even higher than Nanma and Beilu, almost rivaling Lu Beggar.

Such a villain must be eliminated.

Yang Feikuang put away the device and stared at Shen Ye with a strange look. “Are you the Chopstick Demon?”

“Yes,” Shen Ye nodded. “I came to kill you.”

...

“Do you think I’m so wicked you came to kill me?” Yang Feikuang laughed uproariously, rocking back and forth. “Fool! I’ve run this internet addiction center for so long, and nothing ever happened—no media coverage, because I used money to silence them. Recently, I paid several media outlets to hype things up, just to lure you out. And you, just as I expected, walked right into my trap. Ha ha ha ha!”

“You deliberately had the media report your crimes to lure me here?” Shen Ye was momentarily taken aback. Last time, Lu Beggar used the juvenile offenders case to draw him in. Now Yang Feikuang had exposed the internet addiction center’s atrocities to attract him. These criminals lived to harm others, always scheming and plotting.

He realized he needed to investigate thoroughly and be much more careful when facing such villains in the future.

“Exactly. It’s a trap.” Yang Feikuang laughed. “You killed Qin Yan, the young master. Qin Yan wasn’t much, but his father, Qin Zhengtian, is among the top ten richest men in Yangcheng. I get twelve million a year from him, without lifting a finger. Now I’m here to kill you for that.”

“So that’s it.” Shen Ye nodded. “Very well. I’ll kill you first, then see what kind of man Qin Zhengtian is. If he’s committed too many crimes, I’ll deal with him as well.”

“Ha ha ha! The younger generation in the martial world is so confident. I, Yang, have dominated the martial world for years—do you really think you can kill me? Ridiculous.” Yang Feikuang sneered. “And haven’t you realized? You have two enormous weaknesses. If I target them, you’re doomed.”

“First, your strength is nothing special. Some martial artists visited N County Reform School and witnessed your duel with Lu Beggar. Lu Beggar is ninety-eight, and you barely matched him. Clearly, your strength is about the same. You’re not as strong as me.

“Second, you dislike using weapons. Don’t tell me chopsticks count—those bamboo sticks are nothing more than useless hidden tools. Without weapons, you might be fine against others, but against me, you’re at a severe disadvantage. Do you know why they call me the Thunder King? It’s not just because I shock teenagers—it’s because my weapon is known as the Thunder Blade.”

Yang Feikuang slowly drew a blade from his side.

The blade was just over a meter long, three to five fingers wide, its edge sharp and shining like autumn water. It was forged steel, tempered a hundred times—not a common industrial product. It could cut hair, slice aluminum and copper as if they were clay.

Yang Feikuang pressed a button on the hilt. With a sizzle, something activated, and blue electric sparks danced along the blade.

(There will be another chapter update after midnight.)