After arriving in this world bound by order and law, Qin Cheng realized one thing: he could no longer kill whoever annoyed him on a whim, as he had in his past life.

Yet the arrogance, recklessness, and overbearing pride within him remained untouched.

He especially liked one saying—it resonated deeply and felt damn satisfying:

“If I’m not taken out, I’ll stay bold and arrogant. If I am? Then so be it.”

“Who are you to assume every bird born into this world fears bullets like you do?”

Qin Cheng couldn’t recall where he’d heard it, but the words fit his temperament perfectly—echoing the wild, unrestrained life he’d once lived.

If possible, he’d have liked to meet the one who spoke them.

He casually wiped the bloodstain on his shirt, signaled to the suited man beside him, then turned his gaze back to Yu Zhe in the cell.

Originally, Qin Cheng hadn’t planned to touch this “Chosen One.” But after that arrogant golden dragon’s mockery, he made a decision.

This “Chosen One” was as good as his.

“Young Master Qin, it’s ready,” the suited man said, voice laced with worry and reverence.

He genuinely feared that if this young master got hurt again, the higher-ups would blame him—and he’d be the one to pay.

Being a bodyguard meant mastering medicine, martial arts, languages… all sorts of nonsense. Life was just too hard.

“Alright. Let me talk to him.”

“Yes, sir.”

With a wave from Qin Cheng, the suited man stepped out, leaning against the hallway wall beside a surveying police officer, both lost in thought.

Qin Cheng closed the door, approached Yu Zhe’s cell, spotted two chairs, and weakly lifted one to the center before sitting.

Screech—

The chair legs scraping the floor jolted Yu Zhe awake. He lifted his head as if from a dream, eyes shifting outward.

Recognizing Qin Cheng, his eyes flickered with surprise, then curled into a disdainful smirk. “What? Young Master Qin skips recovery to visit a nobody like me? How many bones broke?”

Yu Zhe closed his eyes, mocking as ever. Even imprisoned, his spirit stood unshaken.

*If it were the old Qin Cheng,* Yu Zhe thought, *he’d be screaming insults by now.*

But he miscalculated. The man before him was no longer that useless waste.

“Three broken ribs—no big deal. Truth is, I’m here to thank you. Sincerely. Can’t bow though—body’s not cooperating.”

Qin Cheng replied calmly. He pulled out a cigarette pack and lighter, lit one with oddly familiar ease, placed it between his lips, and took a slow, contented drag. His tone was flat, like chatting with an old friend.

“Thank *me*? Are you cracked?” Yu Zhe shot him a puzzled look.

*Did I accidentally knock sense out of this rich brat?*

Qin Cheng chuckled, exhaling smoke. “You sent away a useless waste and brought this madman in. In a way… you’re my savior?”

“Get checked. Seriously. Something’s wrong upstairs.”

Yu Zhe retorted sharply, though surprise and confusion flickered in his eyes.

Something felt off about Qin Cheng—indescribable, yet unmistakable… like a different person.

Qin Cheng shook his head, ignoring the barbs. He took another drag, gazing at the ceiling.

After a cigarette’s silence, he stubbed it out, stood, and stepped to the cell bars.

“Tell me,” he murmured slowly, voice oddly sincere, “how should I thank you?”

“Heh. If you *really* mean it,” Yu Zhe scoffed, shooting him a dismissive glance before sprawling lazily onto the wooden plank bed. A soft creak followed.

“Absolutely not. I’m a law-abiding citizen. Won’t do anything illegal!” declared the Demon Sovereign with theatrical righteousness, waving a hand.

His handsome face and faux-noble aura perfectly showcased the Demon Sovereign’s shameless audacity.

…

Yu Zhe fell silent. No words for scum.

An awkward quiet settled between them.

Then—a faint smirk touched Qin Cheng’s lips. He leaned forward slightly.

“Guess what Cheng Yu An’s body tastes like?”

The words struck like a whirlpool shattering calm water. Yu Zhe shot up from the bed, face twisted in powerless rage.

“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HER!!! OR I’LL MAKE YOU PAY!!!”

Yes. That exact powerless rage. Qin Cheng loved it.

“Calm down, trash. Relax—I haven’t laid a finger on her.”

Unfazed, Qin Cheng returned to his chair, lazily waving for silence.

“If you touch her, next time it won’t be just ribs.”

Yu Zhe kept threatening, anxiety tightening his chest.

Qin Cheng didn’t spare him a glance. Lit another cigarette. Smoked.

Finished it. Stubbbed it out. Walked straight for the door.

“Hey?! Where are you going?!” Panic edged Yu Zhe’s voice.

“You’ll be out in two days. When you are… bring me a red envelope. In advance.”