"Lei Zhengyang, you're not welcome here. Get out!" Yang Yikun roared, his voice raw with fury. The man who'd violated his soon-to-be fiancée stood before him—an insult no man could stomach.
Lei Zhengyang met Yang Yikun's glare with a wicked, almost devilish smirk. "Oh, you're mad? My apologies—I didn't know Yingfei was betrothed to you. If I'd known, out of respect for the Yangs, I might've gone easier on her. Gotta say, though, Yingfei's stunning. Gorgeous figure, flawless skin."
His tone dripped with provocation, each word a deliberate jab to inflame Yang Yikun's rage. It wasn't an apology—it was a taunt, baiting him to lose control. If Yang Yikun didn't take the bait, Lei Zhengyang would've been disappointed.
Song Yingfei stayed silent. The world had branded her as defiled, her purity stolen by this man. She'd tried defending herself once, but no one listened, so she stopped bothering. What was the point? She knew the truth, and that was enough. She didn't care for others' judgments.
Proud to her core, Song Yingfei disdained explanations. Yet Lei Zhengyang's brazen intrusion into her engagement banquet offered her an unexpected escape. Even without his arrival, she'd planned to end this farce. After fulfilling her family's expectations, she'd declare her truth: she would never marry into the Yangs. Never.
A flicker of surprise sparked in her cool, detached gaze. This man wasn't the useless fool she'd thought. To face the combined might of the Song and Yang families alone, crashing her engagement with such audacity, deserved applause. Too bad the setting didn't allow for it.
Yang Yikun wasn't alone in his fury. Yang Juchao and Song Xiyan seethed, their eyes burning with hatred. If they'd had knives, they'd have plunged them into this shameless interloper to quench their rage.
"Guards! Get him out! Throw him out!" Yang Yikun bellowed, his earlier charm obliterated by madness. "I never want to see him in the South again!" His snarling face twisted, almost feral. Song Yingfei instinctively stepped back, sighing softly. This, she realized, was his true nature.
Yang Juchao rose, his voice measured but laced with menace. "Young Master Lei, today is a joyous occasion for the Yangs and Songs. You're not welcome. Out of respect for Patriarch Lei, I'll ask politely: leave. But if you keep disrupting this banquet, I won't be so courteous."
Lei Zhengyang shrugged, his smile unfazed. "You've got it wrong, Patriarch Yang. I'm not here to cause trouble. But Yingfei's my woman—how can I let her marry another? Sorry, but I'm taking her with me today."
Crack! Song Xiyan slammed his hand on the table, leaping to his feet. "Lei Zhengyang, you think the Lei name gives you a free pass to act like a thug? I'm not buying it. Take Yingfei? On what grounds? Let me be clear: Yingfei has nothing to do with you. You've only brought her pain. The Song family will settle that score. If you're smart, you'll leave now—or you won't leave at all."
Lei Zhengyang locked eyes with Song Xiyan, unflinching. In the past, such imposing authority would've crushed him. But today, he felt no pressure, only a burning resolve to do what he came for. "Sorry, Patriarch Song. I'm taking Yingfei today. Anyone who tries to stop me dies."
A collective gasp swept the hall, the crowd staring at Lei Zhengyang like he was unhinged. From anyone else, those words would mark a madman. From a Lei, from him, they made him only half-crazy—but no less dangerous.
Song Yingfei's eyes flashed with disbelief. Was he fearless out of ignorance or backed by unshakable confidence? Was Patriarch Lei here, egging him on? She'd heard the old man was impulsive—had he orchestrated this?
Several hulking bodyguards stormed in from the entrance. Yang Yikun, unhinged, screamed, "Break his legs! Throw him out!"
As the guards charged Lei Zhengyang, Cold Heart's voice rang with urgency. "Miss—!"
Xu Luoyan's brow furrowed, but she shook her head. "Wait."
The six bodyguards were no amateurs. Though their sunglasses hid their eyes, their predatory aura was unmistakable. The guests rose, eager for the show. It didn't matter who got pummeled—they just wanted the spectacle.
But the fight was over before it began. The first guard's fist swung—and never landed. Lei Zhengyang twisted his arm, snapping it with a sickening crack that echoed through the hall.
His fist met the second guard's face, caving it in. The man collapsed, clutching his mouth, blood seeping through his fingers as he wailed in agony.
The third, fourth, fifth, sixth—no one saw Lei Zhengyang move, but all six guards hit the floor, broken.
More security flooded in, armed with batons and stun rods, their numbers doubling the first wave. Lei Zhengyang didn't spare them a glance. He stepped to Song Yingfei's side, taking her hand. "Yingfei, let's go. This banquet isn't yours."
For a moment, Song Yingfei was speechless. His boldness was beyond anything she'd imagined. All this time, she'd misjudged him. His courage alone could make any woman's heart skip, a hidden spark no one had seen—until now.
"Let her go, you bastard!" Yang Yikun charged, his voice a snarl. "Yingfei's mine!"
Lei Zhengyang didn't release her hand. Yingfei needed an anchor, someone to make her feel safe, trusted. As Yang Yikun lunged, Lei Zhengyang spun, delivering two lightning-fast slaps—smack, smack!—too quick to dodge.
Yang Yikun flew back, crashing to the floor, blood trickling from his mouth.
Meeting his furious glare, Lei Zhengyang's voice was ice. "You hate me? Good. You should. If you've got the guts, come find me anytime. But next time, I'll kill you."
The raw killing intent in his words sent a chill through Yang Yikun's core.
"Young Master Lei, you've gone too far," Yang Juchao said, stepping forward. His pace was deliberate, steady, but Lei Zhengyang sensed a coiled power in his movements. The boisterous Yang patriarch was no mere figurehead—he was a hidden master. "Do you think the Yangs are defenseless?"
Song Yingfei felt it too—Yang Juchao was dangerous. She stepped forward, her voice clear and resolute. "Patriarch Yang, I'm deeply sorry. This is my fault. Under these circumstances, I must leave. I can't be a Yang bride, and I regret that. With Young Master Yang's qualities, I'm sure he'll find a woman a hundred times better than me."
"Yingfei, what are you saying?" Song Xiyan gasped, stunned. His daughter was taking the blame for this Lei brat?
"Father," she continued, unflinching, "I've done my duty. Now, I want to live the life I choose. And I need to tell you: I've never hated Lei Zhengyang. The so-called feud between the Songs and Leis is just your pride talking. I hope my departure ends this."
Her words were a confession, a bombshell. She'd never resented the man who'd wronged her, and the way she let Lei Zhengyang hold her hand carried an intimate weight.
Yang Yikun, struggling to his feet, felt his blood boil. "Shameless woman!" he spat. "I, Yang Yikun, deigned to marry a used rag like you—a blessing you don't deserve! And you're still tangled with this man? Addicted to his games? Don't worry—I'm no slouch at playing women. You'll see tonight."
Song Yingfei hadn't expected such vile venom. Her eyes narrowed, a cold fury flaring. But before she could act, Lei Zhengyang lunged, his foot arcing toward Yang Yikun's chest. Yang Juchao blocked the kick, but the force was overwhelming, driving both men's feet into Yang Yikun's torso.
A spray of blood erupted from Yang Yikun's mouth as he collapsed, unconscious.
The hall fell deathly silent, faces paling. Even Song Xiyan was shaken. Yang Yikun's words had sparked his own anger—his daughter, even as a pawn for the family, was still a Song. To be so degraded before even joining the Yangs was intolerable. Married, she'd be less than human.
"Yingfei," Lei Zhengyang said, his tone soothing, "don't listen to that mutt's barking. If he pisses you off, stomp him. Better yet, crush him dead. The world's quieter without him."
While Yang Juchao's rage simmered, Lei Zhengyang's calm words were a balm to Song Yingfei's heart.