The young man leading Debao Rickshaw Yard was tall and strikingly handsome, his fair skin more befitting a film star than a rickshaw puller.

Uncle Jie, startled, whispered to Xiangzi, “That’s Xu Bin, Debao’s young master.”

Debao held some repute in South City. Rumor had it their aging head entrusted most affairs to this young master.

In status, Xu Bin was to Debao what Girl Hu was to Harmony Rickshaw Yard.

Xiangzi’s brow twitched—a few third-tier pullers’ squabble, and it draws the young master?

Gripping his short spear loosely, his face darkened.

Someone pointed out Xiangzi’s position, and Xu Bin hurried over.

Pushing past his guards, the young master approached, clasping his hands with a warm smile. “Lord Xiang, pardon the intrusion. I’m Xu Bin of Debao Rickshaw Yard.”

His natural charm made his words disarming.

Expecting a confrontation, Xiangzi was caught off guard by such courtesy.

Uncertain of Xu Bin’s intentions, he forced a smile, rising to clasp his fists. “Young Master Xu, I’ve heard of you.”

Xu Bin’s eyes flicked to the short spear on the table, angled perfectly to strike with a single motion.

Unfazed, he grinned wider. “Heard of me? I’m nobody compared to Lord Xiang’s reputation!”

“Shall we sit, Lord Xiang?”

Before Xiangzi could reply, Xu Bin plopped down, flashing a thumbs-up. “Lord Xiang, you’re a true gentleman!”

Xiangzi, half-amused, half-exasperated, sat back down, a faint smile on his lips.

Xu Bin, utterly at ease, ignored Xiangzi’s guarded demeanor, his smile radiant as he piled on compliments.

Mid-conversation, he grabbed a bun and bit into it.

Just a coarse street bun with barely any oil, yet Debao’s young master ate with gusto, praising it extravagantly.

“As they say, eating a man’s food makes you owe him. Having tasted Lord Xiang’s bun, I, Xu Bin, know to show respect.”

He stuffed the last bite in, wiping his mouth.

With a clap on the table, the horse-faced man was brought forward.

The man, who’d glared at Xiangzi earlier, now cowered, fear etched on his face.

With a thud, he knelt, wailing, “Lord Xiang, spare me! I was wrong! Please forgive a fool!”

Xiangzi was dumbfounded.

Xu Bin leaned in, grinning. “Lord Xiang, feeling better?”

Seeing Xiangzi’s silence, Xu Bin coughed lightly.

To the horse-faced man, it was like thunder.

Gritting his teeth, he slapped himself.

Slap!

Slap!

Slap…

The tea stall fell silent, save for the rhythmic slaps.

As blood trickled from the man’s mouth, Xiangzi feigned surprise. “What’s this? Just a misunderstanding!”

Smiling, he helped the man up. The man, dazed from slapping himself, flinched as Xiangzi approached.

“We’re all pullers scraping by. No need for this,” Xiangzi said, tossing a gleaming silver dollar into the man’s hand. “Get that injury looked at.”

The man blinked, stunned at the easy pass—Young Master said I’d lose a leg to appease this killer!

Seeing the dragon dollar, his heart leapt. Damn, should’ve slapped myself harder!

He started to grin, then forced a pained expression.

Xu Bin, nibbling beef, dropped his chopsticks and gave another thumbs-up. “Lord Xiang’s generosity puts us common folk to shame!”

As the crowd dispersed, Xu Bin reached to pay, but Xiangzi pressed his hand down.

No force was used, yet Xu Bin felt pinned by an iron clamp.

Such strength! Though lazy, Xu Bin had been trained since childhood, fed elixirs, and broken the Blood Energy Barrier. How does a third-tier puller build such vitality?

His smile brightened, his posture humbling further.

“Young Master, you’ve given me enough face today. How could I let you pay?” Xiangzi’s smile was warm, his grip firm. “If you need me, just say the word.”

Xu Bin’s grin deepened, and he clasped his fists earnestly—dealing with a sharp one is refreshing.

“No need to trouble you further, Lord Xiang. Today’s clash led to meeting a man like you—a rare fortune!”

His words were humble yet open, and Xiangzi had to match it. “Don’t flatter me, Young Master. Meeting you is my luck.”

More polite flattery followed.

In the end, Xu Bin clutched Xiangzi’s arm, reluctantly leaving with lingering glances.

Xiangzi shook his head, chuckling—Debao’s young master is quite the character.

Lowering himself to charm a mere cart leader showed real guile.

Xiangzi had seen plenty of haughty big shots or bullies, even Wan Yuxuan’s carefree air carried pride. This quirky young man was something new.

One thing was certain: a man who bends and rises is dangerous.

Xiangzi mentally noted “Debao Rickshaw Yard,” then noticed the stall’s patrons staring.

His gaze swept over, and they hurriedly buried their faces in their food.

Debao was known in East City, especially its eccentric young master, a legend who frequented Four Seas Casino. His deference to this unassuming giant made people wonder.

Uncle Jie disassembled his spear, tucking it away, smirking at Xu Bin’s retreating figure. “That Debao kid’s sharp—must’ve heard about your mine exploits.”

“What’s he scheming with this big show?”

Xiangzi smiled, pouring Jie a cup of liquor. “Uncle Jie, we do our thing. Let others scheme.”

Jie sipped, eyeing Xiangzi’s calm demeanor and recalling his recent feats.

Even a seasoned man like Jie felt a stir.

An old stage saying: one who harbors thunder in their chest yet keeps a calm face can rise to general.

Jie never believed it before, but seeing this young man grow under his watch, he savored its truth.

He downed his cup. “This liquor—satisfying!”

Xiangzi handed Old Ma the last two buns, noticing his daze.

“What’s wrong, Old Ma? Buns not to your taste?”

Old Ma snapped back, flustered. “No, no, thanks to you, Lord Xiang, these buns are delicious!”

Chewing slowly, his shock settled.

He stole a glance at Xiangzi, his dim eyes dazed.

Months ago, this man shared his bunk.

Now, he was trading words with Debao’s young master.

Old Ma didn’t understand why, but he knew one thing: Lord Xiang’s a big deal now!