Chapter 002: A Real Hardcase! Wu Chen Knows Everyone

Chapter 002: A Real Hardcase! Wu Chen Knows Everyone

“Hey—” Mu Qianqian had barely opened her mouth before the line went dead. She huffed, muttering, “Backstabbing little traitor. Ditches her best friend the second some guy comes back.”

“Nine minutes, thirteen seconds,” Wu Chen said flatly.

“What nine minutes, thirteen—” She looked up mid-rant, and stopped cold.

In nine minutes and thirteen seconds, she’ll call to tell you so. That was exactly what he’d said, word for word.

She snatched her phone up and flipped through her call log.

The incoming call: 10:16:23 p.m. Subtract nine minutes and thirteen seconds, and you landed at 10:07:10. She hadn’t checked the seconds earlier, but the minute had been 10:07. Exactly.

She sat there, stunned.

“This—this can’t—this isn’t possible—” She stared at him, eyes wide, and sank back into her chair with a thud.

“Believe me now?” he asked, smiling.

“You—” The drinks in her system evaporated on the spot, fear scrubbing her sober. “You can see the future?”

“Not the future. Like I said—for me, today just keeps looping. This isn’t the first time we’ve met.”

“You—ha, wait, I get it now!” Something seemed to click for her again. “You know my friend, don’t you? You two are in on this together, messing with me!”

“Never mind. Not worth explaining.” He smiled, a little tired.

A thousand years. In all that time, Wu Chen had told more people than he could count that he was trapped looping through the same day. Since everything reset the moment he slept, it made no difference to him whether they believed it or not.

Almost none of them ever had.

So he’d stopped bothering to convince anyone. He said what he wanted to say, and left the rest alone.

“I knew it. You and my traitor of a best friend, working together. Caught you.” She looked rather pleased with herself again.

“What little punk’s causing trouble here?”

“Pretty lady, did this guy call you ugly? Want us to teach him some manners?”

A crowd suddenly pressed in around Mu Qianqian—a pack of thugs, greasy and loud, unmistakably trouble.

Up until now, the two of them had gone unnoticed at their corner table. But Mu Qianqian slamming the table and jumping to her feet had drawn the attention of every lowlife in the bar.

She was, in fact, quite pretty underneath all that makeup—anyone with eyes could see the bone structure was there.

Wu Chen simply didn’t care for heavy makeup. That’s why he’d only given her a seven.

He’d sampled far too many women; his standards had grown merciless.

But to everyone else in the room, Mu Qianqian was a knockout.

“Watch your mouth, kid. You the one who called this beauty ugly?”

“Miss, is this punk bothering you? Come have a drink with our boss—we’ll set things right for you.”

The thugs pulled and shoved at her, hurling curses at Wu Chen all the while.

“Hey—what are you doing? This has nothing to do with you people. Do you even know who I am? Let go—” She shoved back at them, one after another.

Everyone in the crowd knew exactly what these men were after.

Mu Qianqian, meanwhile, had already decided Wu Chen was her friend’s friend—which made him one of her own, and made these thugs the intruders.

Crack!

A sharp, splintering sound stopped everyone cold.

One thug dropped, clutching his head, blood already welling between his fingers.

“If it’s a fight you want, quit talking and fight.” Wu Chen rose from his seat, the jagged half of a bottle still in his grip. He’d moved so fast that no one else had even registered what happened until it was over.

“The hell—this kid’s actually swinging!”

“Get him!”

Several thugs surged forward. Wu Chen thrust his hand out to meet them.

Shff!

“AAAH! MY EYE!”

The broken bottle in his hand had a jagged, razor edge. He drove it straight into one man’s left eye. Blood erupted.

He pulled back and swung again—this time at a throat.

He was aiming to kill. He didn’t care. He’d lost count of how many people he’d killed over the years; it would all reset regardless. It made no difference to him.

The man was quick enough to flinch back, but he still felt the cold line drawn across his neck.

He touched it. His hand came away red.

The cut had landed—shallow, but bleeding heavily.

The thugs went rigid, more from shock than fear alone. None of them had ever seen anyone strike this ruthlessly. Even the worst men on the street didn’t go straight for the kill.

Injuries, however severe, were manageable—money could fix a cripple. A corpse was another matter entirely.

The thugs backed away, faces drained of color.

“HE’S KILLING PEOPLE!”

The bar erupted into chaos. Customers stampeded for the exit.

At a booth not far off, several men rose as one.

Among them stood a lean man with a long face and a full beard—the boss the thugs had mentioned. He’d noticed Mu Qianqian slam the table earlier and had sent his men to fetch her.

“The hell is this!” The bearded man stormed over, his crew at his back.

He found one underling blinded in one eye, another clutching a slashed throat with one hand while frantically dialing 120 for an ambulance, terrified he’d bleed out.

The men flanking the bearded boss were seasoned muscle, already tensing to strike—until he raised a hand and stopped them.

Wu Chen remained perfectly calm. He tossed the bloodied bottle onto the table and sat back down as the man approached.

A flicker of unease crossed the bearded man’s face.

This kid couldn’t have been more than twenty-something, yet he’d struck with such brutal precision and now sat there like nothing had happened.

Either he was insane, or he had serious backing and nothing to fear. Neither type was safe to cross.

“Get them to the hospital, now.” The bearded man barked orders, sending two men to haul off the injured.

The one with the ruined eye would likely lose it.

That was the lesser concern. The one with the slashed throat—if he didn’t make it, this would turn into something far bigger.

“Bearded Liu. Got some nerve, starting trouble in a bar. Is that how Crooked Zhao trained you?” Wu Chen said, looking evenly at the man.

“You know me? And my boss?” Just as I suspected, Bearded Liu thought.

Wu Chen knew every major player in Donghai and every secret worth knowing. Anyone with even a shred of standing in the city, he knew.

Out of ten million-plus residents, he couldn’t know everyone in depth—but anyone even slightly notable, he did.

Still, because every day reset, he’d never accumulated any real connections. These people had no idea who he was.

Not that it mattered. Knowledge was enough. Making an acquaintance, when he wanted to, took minutes.

“This is Wang Zhuangyuan’s turf. Your boss’s people, causing a mess here? Not worried about getting dumped in the river to feed the fish?” Wu Chen added.

Bearded Liu’s face changed.

He’d already guessed this man might be some ruthless new hand Wang Zhuangyuan had brought in.

Wang Zhuangyuan and Crooked Zhao had never gotten along.

Normally, Bearded Liu wouldn’t dare bring men onto Wang Zhuangyuan’s turf—and even if he did, he wouldn’t start trouble. But today, a family elder’s funeral had pulled away all of Wang’s core men, leaving only ordinary security behind. That was the only reason Bearded Liu had risked it.

Was this kid someone Wang Zhuangyuan had brought in to mind the place?

“Brother, which crew are you with?” Bearded Liu asked, tone now thoroughly deferential.

Wu Chen met his gaze evenly and said nothing.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Even if you’re one of Wang Zhuangyuan’s men, going this far breaks the rules.” Bearded Liu’s tone hardened again. “Ermao’s on his way to the hospital. If he doesn’t make it, not even Wang Zhuangyuan can save you.”

“Heh.” Wu Chen grinned.

He pulled out his phone, punched in a number, and dialed.