Chapter 95: Step Aside!

In the room, Zhao Degao was in the process of undoing his belt, while Ma Jiaojiao lay flat on the bed.

“Who’s courting death?” he sneered.

At the sound of the door being kicked open, Zhao Degao spun around abruptly, only to see Mo Han stride in, carrying Li An’an in his arms.

“Mo Han?”

Zhao Degao’s face paled with shock. As someone cultivated by the Zuo family, sent to deal with Li An’an on Zuo Wenshan’s orders, he certainly knew who Mo Han was.

“How dare you, Zhao Degao? Who gave you the nerve to scheme even against my wife?” Mo Han strode forward and, without warning, struck Zhao Degao across the face.

Zhao Degao was just an ordinary man; how could he withstand Mo Han’s furious blow? He was sent flying through the air, crashing hard into the wall. Blood spurted from his mouth as he slid down to the floor, his eyes wide with terror as he looked up at Mo Han.

“Mo Han, I’m with the Zuo family. If you lay a finger on me, our family head won’t let you off!”

Though fear gripped him, Zhao Degao tried to bluster.

“I dared to lay hands on Zuo Wenshan himself. What makes you think I’d spare a mere dog of the Zuo family?” Mo Han’s eyes flashed with disdain. He stepped forward and brought his foot down hard.

A scream tore from Zhao Degao’s throat as he passed out from the pain. Mo Han’s stomp had shattered his right ankle. Even with the best medical care, he’d be a cripple for life.

Casting a glance at Ma Jiaojiao, unconscious on the bed, Mo Han raised an eyebrow and picked her up as well. Carrying one in each arm, he made for the door.

They had only been drugged with a mild sedative and would wake up in a few hours. Mo Han wasn’t particularly concerned.

But as soon as he stepped out of the private room, he found the corridor blocked by more than twenty uniformed security guards, all tall and imposing.

At their head stood a man in his thirties, impeccably dressed in a suit, with an air of cultured refinement. Yet beneath the surface, he was known as a ruthless man—Sun Dalong, chief of security at the Sheraton Hotel.

You needed real skill to hold such a position in a five-star hotel. Sun Dalong’s abilities were beyond doubt.

“You think you can just walk out after assaulting someone on my turf?” Sun Dalong’s voice was even, but it carried an unmistakable authority. “If you aren’t with the Zuo family, I suggest you don’t bring unnecessary trouble on yourself.”

Mo Han studied Sun Dalong, realizing these men had no connection to Zuo Wenshan. Their intervention was likely just the hotel’s instinct to protect its guests.

So Mo Han had no intention of making things difficult for them.

“All I know is, they are guests of the Sheraton. As long as they stay here, it’s our duty to ensure their safety,” Sun Dalong said in a low, steady voice.

Mo Han frowned, annoyance flickering in his eyes. Without even glancing at them, he spat out, “Move.”

Sun Dalong’s expression turned cold, his eyes glinting dangerously. Guests at the Sheraton always gave him respect—after all, he’d once been a notorious figure in the city’s underworld. He’d left that life behind for reasons of his own, choosing instead to work for Ma Lailai, the hotel’s owner.

But this Mo Han had not only assaulted a guest but was acting with outrageous arrogance. Sun Dalong’s anger flared.

“Young man, you can’t just leave after attacking someone here. You’d best come with me quietly, or don’t blame me for what happens next!”

“For the last time: move,” Mo Han said, his eyes sharp with fury.

“Damn it!” Sun Dalong, hot-tempered himself, roared and charged at Mo Han.

Bang!

Before he even got close, Sun Dalong was hurled backwards, crashing violently to the ground.

None of the security guards understood how Sun Dalong had been sent flying, but they rushed at Mo Han with angry shouts.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Figures spun through the air, and when it was over, only Mo Han was left standing, calmly balancing on his right leg, his left leg raised across his chest.

It was obvious—every one of the twenty security guards, including their manager, had been kicked aside by Mo Han without him so much as taking a step.

“Impressive kicks, young man!”

At that moment, the door to a large private suite nearby opened, and a man in a traditional tunic suit began to applaud. He was nearly fifty and went by the name Ma Lailai—the owner of the Sheraton Hotel.

In Qian City, Ma Lailai was something of a legend. He’d risen from humble origins to become king of the city’s underworld, and only after cleaning up his act had he become the respected Ma “Fifth Master” and “Blade King.”

Indeed, Ma Lailai’s legitimate enterprises—hotels, KTVs, nightclubs, bars—were extensive. His wealth was considerable, his network vast, and his subordinates many.

Though he’d gone respectable, even the old hands of the underworld still gave him due respect. Even the likes of Fifth Master would have to greet him as “Lord Ma.”

Not that Ma Lailai outclassed Fifth Master—it was simply a mark of respect for a senior.

That night, Ma Lailai had been dining with several prominent figures from Yuzhou City in his private suite on the fourth floor, discussing important matters.

He’d heard the commotion when Mo Han had gone after Zuo Wenshan, but it was beneath him to interfere in such trivialities. He assumed it would be handled swiftly, but this young man had proven to be far more than he’d expected.

“Boss Ma!”

“Boss Ma!”

When the security guards saw Ma Lailai, they all bowed in greeting.

Mo Han halted, glanced at Ma Lailai, and spoke coolly: “This is between me and the Zuo family. Those unconnected would do well not to get involved.”

“Haha, Old Ma, your reputation must be slipping. Someone doesn’t show you any respect and dares to cause trouble in your hotel!” Four men, all approaching fifty, and a woman in her forties emerged from the suite. Each was a person of high standing in Yuzhou, here to discuss business with Ma Lailai.

Ma Lailai just smiled at their words. He was an old hand—there was no way he’d be provoked by their goading.

True, Mo Han didn’t hold Ma Lailai in any regard, but the young man radiated a ferocity that even Ma Lailai found disquieting. Without knowing the other’s true strength, he wouldn’t act rashly.

If you think Ma Lailai achieved his success solely with his fists, you’re sorely mistaken. Though he could fight—how else would he have become king of the underworld?—he much preferred to solve problems with his mind.

That was why, after reaching the peak of the underground world, he’d withdrawn cleanly and decisively, and why he’d paid such a steep price to legitimize himself.

All of this was the result of his clear vision and meticulous calculations.

Ma Lailai said nothing, and the security guards dared not block Mo Han’s path.

And so, a group of distinguished figures simply watched as Mo Han, carrying a woman in each arm, strode away without hindrance.