Rebirth: Slice-of-life Cultivation Chapter 1604 - 877: The Dazzling One

On Han Bridge Street, beneath the chilly and silent night sky, a bunch of Ghost Fire youths assembled.

Seated inside the white Mercedes G-Class, Zhuang Jianhui gazed at the cocky young man beyond the car window. The guy clutched a steel pipe, casually knocking against the glass; in that instant, a strange pain surged through Zhuang Jianhui’s arm.

Zhuang Jianhui rolled down the window, his striking face displaying a genuine apology: “Buddy, I’m sorry, we didn’t see the road clearly just now.”

After his words, Wei Zishan hurriedly called out: “Brother Hui, you?”

She could barely accept that this was unfolding for real.

Had he simply overlooked it, that might have been fine, but Zhuang Jianhui unexpectedly yielded, which went beyond what Wei Zishan anticipated.

Unlike the bold and firm Zhuang Jianhui from his youth at the An City Government Office, this version of him appeared overly lenient.

To actually bow to a petty thug...

The brief and burly youth in the vehicle was remarkably youthful and attractive; he too was stunned, then a triumphant grin twisted his lips as he pondered, “Even a major figure like this submits to me?”

Feeling superior, he issued a smug warning: “Haha, watch yourself next time, no more blind honking!”

Zhuang Jianhui: “Yes, yes, yes.”

Noticing their lack of defiance, the youth lost interest and tossed in: “Run into someone with a shorter fuse, and they’d wreck your ride. Take this as a lesson in handling folks.”

With that, the brief and burly youth grabbed the steel pipe and sauntered off.

“What the...,” Wei Zishan seethed with embarrassment, stretching out to jab a finger at the youth.

Yet Zhuang Jianhui gripped her arm; she turned and caught him softly shaking his head.

From the rear seat, Yuan Lin, clad in high-end fashion, remarked: “Zishan, drop it.”

Wei Zishan swore under her breath, hesitant to turn the wheel as she grumbled: “Damn it, really want to ram them to death.”

In the back, Lin Zida endured the insult with a grin, commenting: “Zishan, if we’d tangled with them earlier, what do you think would’ve happened?”

His eyes scanned through the front windshield, where seven or eight scooters and over a dozen youths clustered ahead.

Lin Zida continued: “They outnumber us, and they’re all young, armed besides. Starting a brawl could lead to serious trouble—injuries, scars, lasting harm, or worse, getting killed. It’s just not worth the risk.”

“Yielding like this means taking some teasing at worst, nothing major.”

Wei Zishan settled down after hearing that, inquiring: “Uncle Zhuang’s been in Yuzhou for more than a year now—how’d it come to this?”

Yuan Lin slumped back into the seat: “Trash like that sticks around even after a decade.”

Wei Zishan recalled the brazen youth from moments ago, still fuming: “I’m still pissed—later, have Uncle Zhuang nab him; I’ll thrash him myself!”

Zhuang Jianhui replied: “Sure.”

Though Lin Zida played it cool, urging Wei Zishan against rashness, he was young too, a gamer hooked on console titles; enduring jeers from lowlifes naturally irked him.

He proposed: “Let’s haul them all in, probe their misdeeds separately—these sorts have likely piled up plenty of dirt, enough for years behind bars.”

For youths on society’s fringes, already talentless, a rap sheet would seal their fate forever.

Zhuang Jianhui: “Alright.”

“Should we back up and take a different route?” Yuan Lin questioned; they’d come tonight to savor Yuzhou’s specialties, only for the vibe to sour.

The side window mirrored Zhuang Jianhui’s outline as he eyed the crowd amid the Ghost Fire youths, stating: “No hurry—let’s enjoy the show a while.”

...

Yan Tianpeng and Zhang Chi got summoned as backup, only to find themselves trapped.

In the frosty winter air, a bold girl in leopard-print mini-skirt and nude stockings strutted boldly before Lu Qiqi, sneering: “Bitch, you summon these clowns?”

Glancing at Lu Qiqi’s reinforcements, the leopard-print girl nearly cracked up.

Despite the taunts from the street tough, Yan Tianpeng held his tongue; he was built solid and imposing, yet thugs often packed blades—if things escalated, slashes everywhere, no amount of toughness made it safe!

The real issue was zero upside to scrapping; even games demand fights over loot spots!

In the real world, brawls mean bills for wounds—who foots that?

Yan Tianpeng knew to dodge dangers; he flashed a smile, extending a smoke: “Sis, it’s all a mix-up, total mix-up!”

“You get it, right, Qiqi?” Yan Tianpeng winked at her.

Lu Qiqi was sharp; earlier, spotting the other woman, she’d endured curses hurled straight at her face—seething, but she stayed put, while fiery Yu Wen jumped in first and took the hit.

Lu Qiqi forced a grin: “Misunderstanding, misunderstanding!”

The leopard-print girl acted like she’d heard a joke, bursting into loud laughter: “Bitch, you filthy slut—weren’t you all high and mighty on QQ?”

A nearby Ghost Fire youth smacked Yan Tianpeng’s cigarette down, scoffing: “Think a smoke fixes this? Get your facts straight!”

Amid the tension, Yan Tianpeng’s meekness didn’t soften them—instead, it painted him as soft, fueling their refusal to back off.

The standoff dragged on awkwardly.

Yan Tianpeng stayed composed, pulling out an entire pack of smokes, declaring: “Brothers, where do you hang? You know Mr. Wang from Shuiyunjian club?”

He started flexing his ‘connections’: “Brothers, pure misunderstanding—once sorted, I’ll swing by Shuiyunjian, get Mr. Wang to line up some masseuses, any ‘Gently Relaxing Format 9295’ style, so you all can unwind!”