Mu Feng sighed helplessly. "But your actions really make it hard for me to let you off!"
Upon hearing this, the man gritted his teeth and began slapping himself repeatedly.
*Slap! Slap! Slap!*
The sharp sounds of his palm striking his face echoed through the room. Soon, his face was swollen beyond recognition, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth.
Zhou, the newspaper publisher, saw stars dancing in his vision. He knew that if he kept this up, he’d die from his own hands before Mu Feng even had a chance to kill him.
He paused, then forced a pitiful smile. "Um, President Mu… could you perhaps show me a little mercy?"
Mu Feng gave him a once-over. "Are you sure you won’t cause me any more trouble?"
Zhou’s heart leaped with hope, and he immediately slapped himself twice more. "President Mu, how stupid would I have to be to dare trouble you again? Do I look like I have a death wish?"
Even if he were given the courage of a hundred bears and leopards, he wouldn’t dare cross Mu Feng now.
After some thought, Mu Feng considered that this man was, after all, the head of a newspaper agency. Killing him outright might cause unnecessary complications.
More importantly, his own reputation had already taken a hit. He needed Zhou to publicly restore his name.
With a resigned sigh, Mu Feng said, "Fine. I suppose I’m too soft-hearted. But the two conditions I mentioned earlier are non-negotiable!"
A million dollars was something Zhou could still scrape together. Unless he had a death wish, refusing wasn’t an option.
Without hesitation, he nodded eagerly. "Rest assured, President Mu! I’ll have the funds transferred to your account immediately. And tomorrow’s front-page headline will be an official apology from Blue Sky Newspaper!"
Mu Feng raised an eyebrow, amused. "You realize that publishing such an apology will be a fatal blow to your newspaper’s reputation, right? Aren’t you concerned?"
Zhou sensed this was a test. One wrong word, and he’d be doomed.
"Compared to President Mu’s reputation, what does our newspaper matter?" He even bowed deeply, his attitude so submissive it was as if Mu Feng were his superior.
Within minutes, the million dollars was transferred.
Mu Feng nodded in satisfaction. "President Zhou, you’re a man who knows how to adapt. Congratulations—your life is spared." With that, he turned to leave.
Zhou hesitated, then hurried after him. "President Mu, to express my sincerest apologies, I’d like to invite you to dinner! A proper way to make amends!"
Mu Feng waved him off. "No need for dinner. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave."
Zhou immediately bent at the waist, his voice ingratiating. "Then let me at least see you out!"
And so, he escorted Mu Feng all the way to the building’s entrance before finally retreating.
Mu Feng shook his head and sighed. *"If only he’d been this compliant from the start. He could’ve avoided all this suffering by just accepting the terms earlier. Ah, human nature…"*
Speaking of dinner, Mu Feng’s stomach growled.
Glancing around, he spotted a café nearby and decided to grab a quick meal.
Inside, he took a seat. Soon, a waitress with twin ponytails, dressed in a khaki apron and with delicate features, approached with a menu.
"Good afternoon, sir. Here’s our menu. What would you like to order?" she asked politely.
Mu Feng skimmed the options. "A well-done T-bone steak and a bowl of creamy mushroom soup, please."
"Of course, sir. It’ll be ready shortly." The girl smiled and left.
About ten minutes later, his food arrived.
He had barely taken a few bites when loud, obnoxious voices erupted in the café.
"Hey there, sweetheart~ Fancy hanging out with me later?" A young punk with flashy earrings licked his lips.
Several thugs had surrounded the waitress who had taken Mu Feng’s order, their expressions lecherous.
The girl paled. "N-no, thank you!"
The punk’s face darkened at her rejection. "Tsk tsk, that’s not how you talk to me, babe. Not many girls get my attention—consider it an honor! How about a night in a presidential suite? Bet you’ve never experienced luxury like that, huh?"
The girl, realizing their ill intentions, tried calling for help.
But not only did her coworkers avoid eye contact, even the café manager kept his distance. Clearly, these thugs had a fearsome reputation.
"I refuse. Please stop harassing me—you’re disrupting my work!"
Her defiance enraged the punk.
"What the hell? Manager! Get over here!"
A man in a suit scurried over, bowing obsequiously. "Ah, Young Master Long! My apologies!"
"You know who I am, yet you didn’t greet me earlier?" The punk glared.
The manager wiped sweat from his brow. "I-I didn’t want to interrupt your… enjoyment, so I kept my distance!"
"Is this your employee?" The punk pointed at the girl.
"Y-yes, she works here!"
"I’m taking her. Any objections?"
The manager hesitated, but self-preservation won out. "N-none at all!"
The punk smirked. "Good. Then you—come with me. Your boss already agreed."
"I’m just a part-timer! I quit! You can’t make me go!" Tears streamed down the girl’s face.
The manager, panicking, whispered harshly, "Xiao Yue, have some mercy on this café! Just go with him! Don’t make a scene!"
"Why should *I* sacrifice myself? If you’re so eager, why don’t *you* go?"
The girl trembled, surrounded by men twice her size. What could she do?
The manager nearly exploded. "Ungrateful brat! You’re going whether you like it or not!"
The punk, now impatient, reached out to grab her.
But just then—
*A clink of porcelain.*
A young man holding a soup bowl stepped forward.
"Ganging up on a girl? Have you no shame?"
It was Mu Feng.
The punk looked him up and down and burst out laughing.
"You? This scrawny runt dares talk to me like that? Got a death wish? Piss off, or I’ll kick your head like a soccer ball!"