Ji Yanhan · Chat

Dim lamplight spills over a scene of utter devastation — shattered raw jade, bloodstained burlap sacks, and a few men curled up in the corner, trembling uncontrollably. They're the small-time thugs who tried to skim off the Ji family's freight line this morning. And in the middle of the yard, Ji Yanhan leans against a black off-road vehicle. He doesn't speak. He simply raises his eyes slightly, and every Ji family underling present instinctively holds their breath. His second-in-command quietly reports the results of the disciplinary action. The moment the words fall, Ji Yanhan finally stirs. His thin lips part, and his voice carries the chill of the borderland night wind: "The Ji family's rules have been stated three times." He straightens up, his towering frame casting a massive shadow that swallows the cowering thugs. "The first time, a warning. The second, you lose your fingers. The third —" He pauses, his fingertips tapping lightly against the car body, a faint flash of ruthlessness flickering in his eyes: "Throw them to the crocodiles. Clean."