Tòumíng woke up to a splash of ice-cold water hitting his face with shocking violence. He coughed and sputtered, gasping for air, the cold shock pulling him from unconsciousness into painful awareness.
His eyes struggled to focus. He tried to move and immediately realized his hands were bound behind his back, his body tied to a chair that creaked ominously with every shift of weight.
He wasn't in the restaurant anymore.
This was somewhere else entirely.
An abandoned office building, maybe, or a warehouse that had been repurposed for purposes that definitely weren't legal.
The kind of place someone would use to film cartel execution videos, concrete walls stained with what looked like old blood, a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling casting harsh shadows, windows either boarded up or too filthy to see through.
The place reeked of dried blood.
Old blood.
Multiple sources. The metallic, rotten smell was overwhelming, making Tòumíng's stomach turn.
In front of him stood Smoke, or what was left of Smoke's dignity.
The massive enforcer had a bandage patch covering the side of his temple where Tòumíng's punch had connected, his face swollen and discolored, one eye completely shut from the damage.
Scarface stood nearby holding a pack of ice to his own face, specifically to his jaw, which looked misaligned and painful. Tòumíng's kick had done serious damage.
Five other gang members were scattered around the room, all of them looking at Tòumíng with varying expressions.
Some were grinning, the kind of predatory grins that suggested they were looking forward to what came next.
Others stared daggers, their anger palpable, clearly wanting revenge for what he'd done to Smoke and Scarface.
Tòumíng grinned through the pain radiating from his own broken jaw.
He tried to make a retort, to say something cutting and defiant, but the moment he opened his mouth, a horrible gnawing pain shot through his face.
The impact from the metal pipe had done more than knock him out, it had broken one of his teeth. He could feel it, loose and wrong, the root exposed, the nerve screaming.
The door opened.
Hǔtān entered, carrying a bucket of hot water and a clean cloth. Even in this brutal setting, his presence was commanding. Six-foot-six of silent intimidation, shirtless as always, the tiger tattoo on his back prominent with its "1 billion won" price tag.
He walked directly to Tòumíng without hesitation, squatted down to be at eye level, and spoke.
His voice was deep, measured, carrying the kind of calm that was somehow more terrifying than anger.
"What you did back there was suicidal. Why?"
Tòumíng grinned wider despite the pain, blood seeping from his gums where the broken tooth had been.
Like hell he was going to explain himself to his oppressor. Like hell he was going to give this man the satisfaction of understanding.
Hǔtān's expression softened slightly, not with sympathy, but with something like curiosity. Genuine interest in what Tòumíng had become.
"You managed to break the floor by touching it," Hǔtān continued, his tone almost conversational. "How? What did you do?"
Tòumíng worked his tongue around the broken tooth, finally dislodging it from his gums.
He gathered it in his mouth along with a mouthful of blood and saliva, leaned forward as much as his restraints would allow, and spit directly at Hǔtān's face.
The bloody tooth and spit hit him square in the cheek.
"I learned it from your mother, bitch."
Hǔtān did not react. Didn't flinch. Didn't show anger or disgust. Just reached up calmly, wiped the spit and blood from his face with the back of his hand, and dipped the cloth into the hot water.
Then he pressed the hot, wet cloth to the back of Tòumíng's head, right where the metal pipe had connected, and began cleaning the blood from his skull with surprising gentleness.
The heat stung against the wound, but Hǔtān's movements were careful, methodical, almost medical in their precision.
The contrast was deeply unsettling. Violence and care existing simultaneously.
After cleaning the wound thoroughly, Hǔtān sighed, a sound that carried weight and what might have been disappointment—and stood up, turning away.
"Scarface," he said, his voice still calm. "Untie him."
Scarface's head snapped up in shock. "BUT THIS BRAT BROKE MY JAW! HE HUMILIATED ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE! HE—"
Hǔtān's gaze shifted to Scarface. He didn't say anything. Just looked at him.
The look was enough. Scarface bit his tongue literally, Tòumíng could see him clench his jaw despite the pain, and walked over to untie Tòumíng's restraints with visible reluctance.
The ropes fell away. Tòumíng's hands were free. His body was free.
Hǔtān addressed the room without turning around. "Leave. Now."
The gang members hesitated, clearly confused and concerned about leaving their boss alone with someone who'd just knocked out one of their own and humiliated another.
"Boss, are you sure—" one of them started.
"Out."
They filed out reluctantly, Smoke and Scarface shooting Tòumíng final looks of pure hatred before disappearing through the door.
The door closed. The lock clicked.
Tòumíng was alone with Hǔtān.
His immediate instinct was to run.
To fight.
To activate Stone Crusher on the wall and escape before whatever was about to happen happened.
He got into a fighting stance, his fists raised despite his injuries, his body tensing for combat.
Hǔtān sighed again and turned to face him fully.
"Very well," he said, walking toward a corner of the room where various weapons were propped against the wall, baseball bats, metal pipes, machetes, and most prominently, a guandao.
A Chinese polearm with a heavy curved blade mounted on a long wooden shaft, the kind of weapon that required serious skill and strength to wield properly.
Hǔtān picked up the guandao like it weighed nothing, testing the balance, the blade catching the harsh light from the overhead bulb.
"Allow me to show you," Hǔtān continued, spinning the weapon with casual mastery, "why your plans of escaping are frankly idiotic."
Cupid's voice cut through Tòumíng's thoughts, sharp and genuinely terrified.
"Dude... no joke... you might actually die here."