Chapter Eighty-One - Fame Achieved in a Single Battle (Part One)

“Mr. Xiao Qiang? Ha! Who would have thought—a young hero since ancient times. Even I, Old De, had to come in person. Truly a remarkable youth!” The middle-aged man sneered, clapping as he strode toward me. Behind him trailed a horde of gangsters gripping clubs and casting mocking glances. Perhaps, in their eyes, someone like me wasn’t even worth dirtying their hands.

I looked coldly at this man called Old De and the mob behind him. “So it was Xia Jianren who sent you? Such pomp. Quite the spectacle. What is it today—do you plan to put me in the hospital, or are you aiming to send me to the morgue?”

“How dare you! Speaking to Uncle De like that—you must be tired of living, brat!” No sooner had my words left my lips than one of De’s henchmen spat out a curse.

A harsh slap cracked across that man’s cheek. He stared, dumbfounded, at Uncle De, clearly never expecting to be struck by his own boss.

“Who do you think you are? Is this your place to interrupt? Get out of my sight!” Old De’s roar sent the lackey trembling back into the crowd. Old De shot me a cold, appraising glance and nodded. “No wonder even that Xia Fugui had to step in to deal with you. You have courage and pride, boy! But you’ve picked the wrong person to provoke today. I, Old De, don’t bow to threats. I’ve ruled the underworld of City C for decades—if word got out that I was scared of a brat who hasn’t even grown all his hair, my peers would die laughing! I showed up with this display simply to give you a taste of respect. If you agree here and now to stop chasing after the woman my godson wants, then you can walk away unharmed.”

His gaze shifted behind me, and his face grew even more sinister. “Quite the ladies’ man, aren’t you? Eating from your own bowl while eyeing the pot. You’re doing well for yourself, pretty boy. The girl behind you is lovely enough—no need to fight my godson over his woman. Don’t make me lose patience and teach you a lesson.”

“Unfortunately, I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll indulge your chatter a little longer.” I shrugged casually, the smirk on my face vanishing, replaced by a murderous aura that surged forth. “While I still have patience, you’d better run back and tell that Xia fellow that blaming others for his son’s failures with women is the height of bad manners. As for your so-called terms, you’ve got it backwards. Why should I leave the woman he wants? It’s your precious godson who should stay away from my woman!”

My audacious words left Old De and his men visibly stunned. Watching his face turn from pale to flushed, I could barely suppress a laugh. Me, leave Su Xin? Not in this lifetime!

“Young man, don’t get too cocky!” Old De glared at me, his bones cracking ominously. “Kneel and beg for mercy now, and you might live. Don’t force my hand!”

“Enough talk. Aren’t you De Guangqing, boss of the Axe Gang? What gives you the right to speak to me like this?” I spread my arms wide, circulating my inner energy, and shouted, “Come! Will you all attack together, or how do you want to do this? Make it quick!” The moment he called himself Uncle De, I’d already recognized him. This De Guangqing was once the boss of Wang Changshun!

He was visibly startled when I called out his real name—surely he never imagined a nobody like me would know who he was. But as he saw my confident stance, his scornful look sharpened into something fierce. “So that’s why you’re so bold. My godson was right—you’re from the martial world. Good! It’s been ages since I’ve met a worthy opponent. Don’t disappoint me.” As he finished, he tossed his jacket to a henchman, revealing a body of solid muscle, then clasped his fists in salute. “De Guangqing of the Lion Fist School, ready to be taught!”

“Please.” I gestured invitingly, then sank into a Taiji stance, standing steady as an ancient pine. I was determined to thoroughly humiliate him and show them my strength. Although De Guangqing was clearly well-trained, I could tell at a glance he practiced only external skills. As the saying goes, the layman watches the spectacle; the expert sees the technique. No matter how superb one’s external skills, how could he match someone versed in internal energy? Let alone me, who possessed the world’s finest inner strength and mastery of all external forms.

“Roar!” De Guangqing bellowed, his muscles swelling, and shot toward me like an arrow from a drawn bow. The sight made Chu Qitong, standing a few steps behind, cry out in alarm. My face showed no trace of murderous intent now, only excitement—pure exhilaration! I wondered for an instant: was De Guangqing of Lion Fist stronger than Li Dabiao of Whirlwind Legs? As lightning thoughts flashed by, I swept my arms, channeling my energy into a protective shield before my chest, and remained motionless, as if I hadn’t even seen De Guangqing’s lion-like fists streaking toward me.

All eyes on that deserted, cold street were fixed on the two of us. An eerie silence hung over the scene. Chu Qitong’s face had gone deathly pale; she never imagined I knew kung fu, let alone that I would so brazenly challenge these gangsters. Yet when the fight broke out, De Guangqing’s “Lion Descends the Mountain” left her utterly stunned.

At the very instant De Guangqing’s fists were about to crash into my face, the air seemed to grow heavy. Had it been anyone else, a single punch would have smashed their cheek, followed by a second that shattered their ribs in a spray of blood.

But I was not an ordinary man. The Lion Fist was a branch of the Five Animal Styles of Southern Fist, and I possessed its complete forms and techniques in my mind, each move as familiar to me as breathing. Perhaps the old me would have had knowledge but no ability to evade, but now I could follow my will, executing any maneuver I wished.

A whisper of wind brushed my ear as I tilted my head at the last possible moment, letting his first punch miss entirely. In the same instant, my right hand shifted into a palm and, in a blur, enveloped De Guangqing’s second fist.