Chapter 56: Wishes Come True

Qin Xueyang thought that with a single charge, she could knock out Zhou Shilin. She had shielded Zhang Qiyang from trouble after his drunken escapades many times before, crashing into those provoking thugs. But those men were always drunk; one hit from her would leave them dazed and unable to fight. This time, however, Zhou Shilin was different. This man was a madman. The crazed willpower of a lunatic is truly terrifying, almost defying science.

Though his head was still spinning, fury surged through him, his mania flaring. He banged his metal bat against the ground with a “clang, clang, clang,” and charged at Qin Xueyang, wild-eyed. Qin Xueyang’s legs turned to jelly, her earlier bravado about carrying mountains on her shoulders vanishing without a trace. She stumbled back two steps, then turned and bolted toward the Mercedes. She wouldn’t dare risk her life against someone as deranged as Zhou Shilin.

Zhou Shilin howled and gave chase. Sensing danger, Zhang Qiyang dashed in from the side, closed the distance, and launched into a flying double kick, striking Zhou Shilin in the shoulder and ribs. The impact sent Zhou Shilin crashing into the base of the wall, nearly coughing up blood, ribs threatening to snap. Zhang Qiyang also hit the ground hard. He scrambled up and strode over to Zhou Shilin, who was trying to prop himself up with his bat. Standing tall over him, Zhang Qiyang unleashed a Duncan-style windmill punch, bringing his fist down hard on the top of Zhou Shilin’s head.

With a resounding thud, Zhou Shilin dropped like a mole struck with a mallet, his neck almost shortened by a notch from the blow. His teeth clattered so hard they nearly cracked. His head hit the concrete with a heavy thump, brain rattling—he was knocked out cold.

The metal bat slipped from Zhou Shilin’s grasp, clattering crisply to the ground and echoing through the parking garage. The place that just moments before had been filled with wild fighting and screams now fell eerily silent. Qin Xueyang, who had witnessed everything, stuffed her plump hands into her mouth, clutching her lower lip in a look of utter dread and despair.

She was terrified that Zhang Qiyang’s final hammer blow had killed the madman. Even if it hadn’t, if Zhang Qiyang had seriously injured someone at such a critical moment, they’d be in serious trouble. The media would tear him apart! Even if Eastern Entertainment could handle the PR and spin the story as Zhang Qiyang acting heroically, this incident involved Li Xuan and her fans—it would deal a severe blow to Li Xuan’s image.

Things had gotten out of control.

Li Xuan realized this too; her usually bright eyes now flashed with rare panic and confusion. Teetering on her sky-high heels, she hurried over to Zhang Qiyang, her chest heaving as she struggled to compose herself. “Are you… all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Zhang Qiyang replied.

A crease of worry and disgust appeared between his brows. He too was afraid that his Duncan-style windmill punch had been too much, that he might have killed Zhou Shilin. He quickly bent down to check Zhou Shilin’s carotid artery.

Damn! Still pumping strong!

“This bastard sure can take a beating!” Zhang Qiyang let out a breath of relief.

Qin Xueyang waddled over, and hearing Zhang Qiyang’s words, she, too, relaxed a bit, though her expression remained grim. “What do we do now?”

“Did you call Coco?” Zhang Qiyang asked her.

“I did. Coco’s on her way. She’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

Just then, Li Xuan’s phone rang. The crisp ringtone echoed through the underground garage, startling both her and Qin Xueyang. Seeing that it was Chen Ke calling, Li Xuan quickly told Zhang Qiyang, “It’s Coco.”

Zhang Qiyang nodded, stopping Li Xuan from answering. “Go back to your room first, get away from here—don’t let anyone see you. Once you’re there, tell Coco what happened and have her come quickly to handle this. I’ll wait here for her.”

His meaning couldn’t have been clearer—he intended to shoulder this alone. Rather than drag Li Xuan into the mess, he’d rather take the blame himself. His public image was already ruined—let people say what they will; he didn’t care anymore.

Li Xuan, however, was Eastern Entertainment’s top singer, their cash cow, practically a miniature ATM for the Oriental Group. Zhang Qiyang had to protect her future and reputation.

After such a disgusting and terrifying ordeal, Zhang Qiyang wasn’t comfortable sending Li Xuan back alone, so he called out, “Qin Xueyang, take Li Xuan back. Go quickly.”

“Can you handle this alone?” Qin Xueyang asked, worried. “What if that lunatic wakes up?”

Li Xuan echoed, “Maybe we should call the police first.”

“Not yet—let Coco handle it. She’s experienced with these situations.” Zhang Qiyang glanced at Zhou Shilin, still bleeding and unconscious on the ground, and spat, “If this bastard wakes up, I’ll just knock him out again.”

Qin Xueyang and Li Xuan were speechless.

“Don’t do anything reckless,” Qin Xueyang scolded. “Don’t end up killing him.”

“I know my limits. Stop dawdling, go!” urged Zhang Qiyang, giving Qin Xueyang’s broad back a gentle push.

Li Xuan’s bright eyes shone with gratitude as she glanced back at Zhang Qiyang. Then she donned her large sunglasses, and as they masked her gaze, a genuine feeling of being moved flickered in her eyes. She had never expected Zhang Qiyang to show such careful, considerate, and selfless restraint.

Qin Xueyang took Li Xuan’s arm and quickly led her away from the scene of trouble.

Zhang Qiyang’s gaze lingered on their retreating figures as they disappeared around the corner of the parking garage, then shifted to the broken championship trophy lying nearby.

He walked over, picking up the marble base and the two halves of the cup. Glancing at the still-unconscious Zhou Zuo Lin on the ground, a chill ran through him.

Damn it! If that bastard had managed to smash his head with the marble trophy base, his life as a transmigrant would probably have ended right then and there. The thought made him furious.

But thinking further, if he hadn’t gotten cocky and given away the trophy on the show earlier in the week, none of this would have happened. He himself was partly to blame for everything.

Fortunately, the young body he’d inhabited after crossing over was strong enough that, even in a crisis, he could keep his cool and come through unscathed.

In fact, ever since he’d recovered from his time in the hospital, Zhang Qiyang had noticed that his condition in this new life was vastly improved over his previous one. His brain’s control over this body was astonishingly strong; he could even force his body to do things beyond its limits.

Take last week, for instance, when he belted out that song “New Shit” on “I Sing.” His performance was downright inhuman. No matter how skilled the singer, they couldn’t match the way he broke through the limits of the human voice. During several climactic passages, oxygen deprivation left him almost fainting, unable to breathe. But in those moments, if he mustered all his will and pushed even harder, it was as if his whole body exploded with energy, his breath channels bursting open, giving him the strength to keep singing.

The feeling was exhilarating—a thrill of surpassing human limits. It was like the heroine in “Lucy” breaking through the bounds of the brain, leaving him with a sense of invincible confidence.

He’d felt it just now, fighting Zhou Shilin. When Zhou Shilin suddenly rushed him with the trophy, most people would have panicked and just barely dodged. But not only did Zhang Qiyang evade the attack, he countered with a razor-fast jab, landing it squarely on Zhou Shilin’s forehead.

At that instant, his mind seemed to explode. The moment he thought of retaliating, his fist simply obeyed, striking exactly where he intended.

Such instantaneous, absolute control over his body was far beyond what an ordinary person could achieve. Now, wielding this body felt like having wishes come true—whatever he thought, this new body would fulfill, even pushing past its own limits.

Whether it was the original owner’s years of working out since middle school, or something unique about his soul after transmigrating, he could now do things that had been impossible in his previous life.

It was this “wish-fulfilling” ability that gave Zhang Qiyang such extraordinary confidence in any situation. Just now, it wasn’t only one lunatic attacking him—if there had been ten Zhou Shilins, he still believed he could take them all down.

His only concern was not going too far, not letting one windmill punch accidentally finish someone off.