As soon as the old man finished speaking, the young man's expression instantly turned extremely gloomy, his face filled with undisguised disgust and impatience.
His eyes widened with rage as he shouted at the top of his lungs.
"Get the hell out of here! You're filthy and reek like a mangy dog squatting here. What are you trying to do? Are you trying to choke me with your stench?! I'm telling you, I'd rather throw this bottle in the trash than give it to you. Now, be smart and get lost, or don't blame me for being rough with you."
The people in the surrounding shops seemed long accustomed to such a scene.
They merely spared a casual glance before continuing with their own business as if nothing had happened.
Faced with such fierce and heartless verbal abuse, the old man did not offer any rebuttal or resistance.
Instead, with a look of embarrassment and apology, he gave a slight nod and silently picked up his bag with one hand, moving toward a nearby corner.
From the old man's movements, it was clear that one of his arms was unusual.
He didn't carry such a large bag by the handle; instead, he tucked it under his arm. It was evident that his right wrist was disabled.
As he moved, his eyes subconsciously scanned the surroundings for other places where he might find something.
Seeing the old man walking further away, the young man didn't stop there; instead, he became even more aggressive.
He casually smashed the empty bottle in his hand onto the ground, as if doing so would make him look more imposing.
"Bang!" The sound of the empty bottle hitting the ground was particularly loud in the quiet environment, quickly catching the old man's attention.
The old man's eyes sharpened as he followed the sound and saw an empty bottle lying lonely on the ground.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward and reached out his right hand, intending to pick up the bottle.
Seeing that the old man hadn't taken his previous words seriously, the young man immediately flew into a rage.
He spun around abruptly, agilely lifting a leg and kicking hard at the bottle just as it was about to fall into the old man's hand.
In an instant, the bottle whistled through the air, flying far away and narrowly missing the old man.
The old man clearly hadn't expected such a turn of events. His expression instantly became serious, even carrying a hint of anger.
He shot a fierce glare at the young man.
Then, he closed his mouth and suppressed his anger.
He turned and continued toward the bottle, clearly still wanting to retrieve it.
It was that very glare that made the young man feel his authority had been severely challenged once again.
A nameless fire surged in his heart.
At home, he had always been arrogant and overbearing, a complete little tyrant.
Whether it was toward his wife or his own parents,
if anything displeased him in the slightest, they were met with his merciless fists or foul-mouthed abuse.
Recently, he had met a woman from Kyoto online, and the two of them had been flirting every day.
After a month or two of effort and saving, he finally bought a ticket to come and meet her in person.
When they chatted over video, the beauty appeared to have skin as delicate and smooth as silk, a small and cute face, and a soft, gentle voice that inspired affection.
However, to his surprise, after meeting in person, he learned the true meaning of a scam.
Not only was the woman as burly and sturdy as a tiger, with thick rolls of fat on her back and waist, but without the enhancement of filters, her facial skin was in poor condition—there was simply no beauty to speak of.
She was practically on par with the plain-looking wife he had at home.
But despite this, the money for the hotel room had already been spent.
If he returned empty-handed, wouldn't it be a total loss?
So, suppressing his dissatisfaction, he transferred a 520-yuan red envelope to her, turned off the lights, and got it over with.
But who would have thought that when he woke up the next morning, she actually demanded another 1,314 yuan!
This amount caused his anger to reach its peak. After arguing with her for a while, he turned and headed for the hotel front desk, leaving in a huff after checking out.
It could be said that all the misfortunes of the past two days had left him frustrated and agitated.
With nowhere to vent his emotions, he now took them all out on this innocent old man.
Seeing the old man try to bend over and pick up the bottle again, the fire in the young man's heart grew even stronger, as if the bottle had become the outlet for his dissatisfaction.
He strode over and, without hesitation, kicked the bottle far away once more.
This malicious behavior caused the surrounding people to look over, their faces showing disapproval.
But perhaps out of fear of the young man's arrogance, no one dared to step forward and stop him.
They only whispered and pointed from the sidelines.
Moreover, many people gathered around to watch the spectacle, taking out their phones to record.
The man kept cursing, "Damn it! Kyoto is like this—the food is terrible, the prices are ridiculously expensive, the weather is freezing, and I wasted so much money for nothing. I can't even drink water in peace without some damn fly ruining my mood! How unlucky!"
Seeing that the old man still rushed over and managed to get the bottle,
the young man's anger instantly spiked to its peak, and he raised his foot and stomped hard directly onto the old man's hand.
The old man, who had been slightly joyful, suffered a sudden and heavy blow. His body curled into a ball, and his face contorted with extreme pain.
A miserable wail escaped his mouth.
"Ouch... What are you doing? Young man, why are you so heartless as to stomp on me? I'm just picking up a bottle. How did I offend you?"
Faced with the old man's questioning, the arrogant young man showed no remorse. Instead, he insulted him even more aggressively.
"Damn it, I hate you old geezers the most, scavenging for junk everywhere like beggars with no dignity! You're so pathetic!"
The commotion here also caught Jiang Cheng's attention.
Seeing this scene, Jiang Cheng's anger level instantly soared, and his face darkened abruptly.
He first handed the rest of the food he was carrying to Reba beside him.
Then, he took the bowl containing Douzhir from Reba's hand and walked toward the provocative young man without hesitation.
When he reached him, Jiang Cheng didn't say a word. He suddenly raised the bowl of steaming hot Douzhir.
He poured it all over the head of the young man with the buzz cut.
Instantly, the scalding Douzhir flowed down from the top of his head, soaking the young man's clothes and hair.
Douzhir itself doesn't smell very pleasant due to the fermentation process.
At this moment, a nauseating, sour stench emanated directly from his body.
The young man's head throbbed with burning pain, and his entire person was surrounded by the thick, rancid smell, making him look incredibly pathetic.
"Ah! Who are you?!" He frantically lifted his shirt and wiped his face hard, trying to remove the stains.
After wiping himself, he flew into a rage again and, without hesitation, swung a palm and lunged straight at Jiang Cheng.
Suddenly, a mysterious voice sounded in Jiang Cheng's mind: "Ding! Special environment detected. The opponent is proficient in Taekwondo. Rewarding the Host with professional-level Kickboxing."