Besides, he knew very well that Lin Yao had started this. By the book, the entire blame would land squarely on Lin Yao.
Even though Lin Yao had provoked the incident, Jiang Cheng's retaliation had been savage.
Lin Yao was the sole heir of the Lin family; if Jiang Cheng's aim had been off by a hair and struck the front of the car, Lin Yao would have ended up at the very least with a broken head and blood everywhere.
He knew Jiang Cheng had backing, but he hadn't expected him to act with such reckless disregard for consequences.
If he failed to win Lin Yao some justice today, the Lin family would never let him off the hook.
Compared with Huang Qing, Jiang Cheng looked utterly relaxed, as though the matter didn't weigh on him at all.
Unable to touch Jiang Cheng, Huang Qing instantly redirected his fury and frustration at Qi Yuan.
He whipped his helmet straight at Qi Yuan's side.
The helmet cut an arc through the air and slammed down beside Qi Yuan with crushing force.
Huang Qing's voice cracked like thunder: "This is club business—outsiders keep out! Who do you think you are? Get lost!"
When the helmet thudded next to Qi Yuan, Qin Fen—standing closest to Huang Qing—finally lost it.
Frankly, he'd been the most aggrieved person present.
When Jiang Cheng had acted, he'd at least smashed the other guy's car to scrap.
Yet Qin Fen had been humiliated, and now the friend he'd brought along was being disrespected.
As one of the hosts, Huang Qing was basically ignoring him—an indirect slap in the face.
Sure, Huang Qing was the club president, but among their circle he barely registered.
If joining the SCC didn't net them hundreds of thousands—or millions—every year, nobody would give him the time of day.
Apart from his chairman title, Huang Qing had no background worth mentioning.
Qin Fen snarled, "Who the hell do you think you are?" and punched him without hesitation.
Wang Zheng stepped in as well, adding several swift kicks.
The moment Qin Fen and Wang Zheng struck, Huang Qing's entourage rushed to break it up.
In an instant the scene turned chaotic.
Huang Qing, having taken several blows, didn't fight back; instead he smiled faintly and simply dropped to the ground.
The officers who'd just arrived—barely able to admire the super-cars—saw the commotion and sprinted over.
Chen Qin shoved through the crowd, hauled Qin Fen back, and barked, "Gentlemen—no fighting!"
Seeing the police, Huang Qing on the ground instantly played the victim, howling, "Officers, assault! I want a lawyer! Assault!"
Huang Qing clutched his cheek, his theatrics drawing scornful looks from Jiang Cheng and Qi Yuan.
Jiang Cheng folded his arms. "How did this guy become your club president? Pathetic."
Wang Congcong chimed in, "The prick's trash—utterly disgraceful."
Wang Congcong might swear like a sailor, but he rarely threw a real punch; after all, they were all Second-generation rich, not street thugs—brawling cheapened them.
Once order was restored, Chen Qin surveyed the scene; when his gaze landed on Jiang Cheng beside Qi Yuan, his heart skipped.
He cursed inwardly: "Why is this lord here again? What lousy luck!"
He was in the country's most prosperous city—Modu—where serious crime was rare: just neighbor squabbles or fender-benders.
Cases this thorny were almost unheard-of.
The last time he'd mediated between Jiang Cheng, Qi Yuan, and Wang Hao, it had ruined his mood for days.
Yet here was Jiang Cheng again.
If Qi Yuan hadn't personally called, he wouldn't have come.
Chen Qin remembered Jiang Cheng, and Jiang Cheng likewise remembered him.
Jiang Cheng glanced at Qin Fen, then at Chen Qin; their eyes met, and Chen Qin instantly understood.
Recalling Jiang Cheng's formidable backing, Chen Qin sighed in resignation—being a precinct captain was hell.
With a helpless look he slowly released Qin Fen's arm.
Qin Fen jerked free, still burning with unvented rage.
He charged at Huang Qing again, kicking the man on the ground over and over.
"Lawyer, huh? I'll play with you!" he shouted.
One kick or ten—made no difference.
After several stomps to Huang Qing's gut, officers finally pulled them apart.
Only then did Qin Fen's expression ease. "Damn, that felt good."
Huang Qing lay curled up, clutching his stomach, groaning in pain.
Through gritted teeth he hissed, "You're dead, you bastard—this isn't over."
He'd hurled the helmet precisely to provoke them, counting on them to strike first.
He'd expected to take a single punch; he hadn't bargained for a full-blown kicking.
Jiang Cheng walked over, crouched, and fixed Huang Qing with an icy stare, as though looking at a corpse.
Slowly, mockingly, he said, "Today's been an eye-opener—an SCC president helping some guy from the capital slap every Modu car-owner in the face. Are you out of your mind? On drugs?"
The words stabbed like a blade; Huang Qing's face drained of color, terror flickering in his eyes.
To the onlookers, the casual remark landed like a boulder in still water, sending huge ripples through their minds.