Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Origins of Li Yating

Everyone turned toward the sound and saw a middle-aged woman walking in at a measured pace. She wore a white suit, her hair cut short and face untouched by makeup; her hands rested in her pockets. Though her features were delicate and charming, her expression was solemn, cold, and proud, as if she were a snow lotus blooming on a wind-whipped cliff.

“I’ve heard that a jade spirit object appeared in Binhai City, and never imagined I would see it with my own eyes today. If this multi-effect jade spirit object went up for auction at the Ji Sheng Society, it would likely fetch a price of one billion,” she remarked. “Young man, you must have quite a connection with Wang Ji Sheng!”

Her words immediately drew every gaze in the room to Lin Feng. One billion! That was an astronomical sum. Could Lin Feng truly be a deeply hidden, top-tier heir? The sudden turn of events threw everyone’s thoughts into disarray, except for Liu Jian, whose heart burned with anger. His moment of posturing had been interrupted, and now fury clouded his mind.

Pointing at the newcomer, he roared, “Who the hell are you? Did you also keep Lin Feng as your boy toy? I really don’t get it—what’s so charming about him that even older women want to throw themselves at his feet? Is it because he’s well-endowed and skilled?”

Liu Jian had lost all restraint, paying no heed to who she was, spewing vulgarity without pause.

“Hmph! A mongrel like you dares to bark before me? You truly don’t know what it means to court death!” The woman’s gaze sharpened, she stepped forward and, raising her hand, slapped him in one fluid motion.

The resounding slap was powerful enough to knock out Liu Jian’s molars.

“You—how dare you hit me! Do you know who I am? I’m the son of a district leader! Ke Feng, throw this old woman out for me!”

“At your command!” Ke Feng had long been Liu Jian’s loyal lackey, always ready to do his bidding.

“Apologies, Young Master Liu has spoken. If you’re to blame, it’s only for meddling at such a critical moment,” Ke Feng said. After his right leg was broken by Cha Cai, he’d spent weeks recuperating in the hospital, brooding and itching for an outlet. Although he’d suffered a humiliating defeat at Phoenix Pavilion Hotel last time, the experience had dramatically improved his fighting skills. Now, Ke Feng brimmed with confidence.

Here was a perfect opportunity—a human punching bag delivered to his door, and he wouldn’t let it slip away. He knew he was no match for a fighting expert like Lin Feng, but against an ordinary person, he was sure of himself.

A cruel smile curled at Ke Feng’s lips. He flexed his muscular arms, knuckles cracking, his biceps rippling like hills, poised and eager like a famished python waiting for prey.

In a flash, he lunged at the middle-aged woman, raising a fist and aiming shamelessly at her chest.

Yet the woman did not dodge; calm and unruffled, she said, “Sister Hu, do it.”

“Yes, Madam President!” came a weathered voice. Before Ke Feng’s punch could land, a figure flashed before the woman with the speed of lightning.

In that instant, her eyes sparkled like stars. She raised her right hand, transforming her palm into a blade, and swung it.

Her bare palm sliced through the air with a sharp whistling sound, as if it were a forged steel blade—deadly and precise.

The palm strike arrived before Ke Feng’s punch, chopping directly into his chest.

Ke Feng never expected that this solitary woman would have such a formidable bodyguard. Her movements, strength, and martial skill utterly overwhelmed him. He didn’t even see her strike; before he knew it, he was airborne, like a battered sandbag, blood spraying from his mouth.

“You… who are you? Don’t come any closer… come any closer and I’ll call the police!” Liu Jian, seeing Ke Feng so easily crushed, lost all his bravado; his legs trembled, his voice fierce in appearance but weak in truth.

The middle-aged woman curled her lips into a smile, seated herself, and swept her almond-shaped eyes across the private room, lightly clapping her hands.

In moments, a host of burly men in black suits filed in, filling the already small room to capacity.

“You dare to lay a finger on me? Who gave you the courage? I’d like to see: if I cripple you today, will your father have the guts to avenge you?”

“Sister Hu, cripple the brat and throw him out.”

“Yes!” The woman who’d felled Ke Feng with a hand chop wore a traditional Tang suit. Though her face showed signs of age, her brows were sharp, her eyes fierce, and her presence commanding.

The middle-aged woman was ruthless and silent, her hands morphing from palm to claw. As her claws flashed, afterimages appeared.

Lin Feng instantly recognized her technique as the notorious Tendon-Splitting Bone-Distorting Hand—a vicious martial art that forcibly displaces the joints and tendons, leaving victims crippled and destined to spend their lives bedridden, with no hope of recovery.

“Don’t come any closer! I’ll call the police! You—ah!” The Tendon-Splitting Bone-Distorting Hand, with the lightest touch, twisted muscles and bones, inflicting excruciating pain and forcibly dislocating every joint.

Before the eyes of all, Liu Jian was twisted into a pretzel by the Tang-suited woman in a matter of moments. His limbs contorted bizarrely; even his fingers were not spared.

Liu Jian howled in agony, losing control of bladder and bowels, the intense pain like a barrage of steel needles pounding his mind, forcing screams from his lips.

None of the dozen or so colleagues dared to intervene; fear had shattered their courage.

All stood trembling, petrified as if caught in a winter storm. Only Lin Feng gently shielded Li Yating behind him, standing tall and meeting the middle-aged woman’s gaze.

“Everyone except Li Yating, get out!” the woman barked. The colleagues wasted no time, fleeing like frightened birds.

“Lin Feng! Don’t go!” Li Yating, terrified, instinctively clung to Lin Feng’s sleeve, her eyes tearful and pleading for his protection.

Naturally, Lin Feng would not leave Li Yating to face this alone, and so he stayed.

Wang Lun, seeing this, would not abandon Lin Feng, and Liu Susu could not leave her best friend behind.

Thus, from a celebration of nearly twenty people, only three remained, standing guard beside Li Yating.

“Interesting. Out of twenty, only you three passed the test. I forgot to introduce myself. I am Wang Lisha—Yating’s mother!”

Mother?

Li Yating was stunned. She had grown up an orphan, told by the director that she had been abandoned at the orphanage’s doorstep as a baby. More than twenty years had passed, and now, a powerful woman appeared, claiming to be her mother.

Li Yating was unable to process this sudden revelation.

“Wang Lisha? You’re the head of the Heavenly Sun Society in the three southern provinces—Wang Lisha!”

“My god, the Heavenly Sun Society spans politics, business, and the military. Compared to it, the Dragon Hall is mere child’s play. It’s the strongest force in the three southern provinces!”

Upon hearing the name “Wang Lisha,” Wang Lun was no longer calm. Here was a woman who could cover the sky with her hand, controlling three provinces—renowned as the strongest female power in China.

And she was Li Yating’s mother.

This was truly a bombshell.

“Yating, twenty years ago, I was hunted by enemies. To escape and ensure your survival, I had no choice but to abandon you at the Huai’ai Orphanage. All these years, I have searched for you, never giving up. I never imagined you would leave Haibei Province and come to Binhai City to make your way.”

“You made me search so bitterly!”

Wang Lisha approached Li Yating carefully, holding a DNA test result and a pink hairpin. Her bloodshot eyes brimmed with tears.

No matter how strong a woman, facing her long-lost daughter, she could not help but shed tears.

“Yating, rest assured—this time, even if it costs me my life, I will never abandon you again. Can you forgive your mother?”

Li Yating stood frozen, her lips trembling, eyes full of tears.

Twenty years of loneliness, twenty years of hope—today, at last, they had come true.