"What the hell is that kid packing?" The Hong family's second young master went pale, instinctively stepping back two paces.
"Look at you, scaredy-cat. What's there to be afraid of? We've got so many people stationed here today—like we're gonna get spooked by some cheap trick of his!" The eldest young master, clearly bolder, snorted disdainfully.
Stanley Hong let out a cold laugh too, following up: "No need to get jumpy, folks. It's just a smoke-and-mirrors act. I'm in a generous mood today—here's a little incentive. This is my jade thumb ring, a top-grade spirit artifact worth over ten million outside. Whoever kills that kid, it's yours!"
"Heh, thanks for the reward, Old Master! That thumb ring is as good as mine!" Right then, Tiger Fang—self-styled Xingyi Boxing master—couldn't hide his greed, swinging his iron fist wildly in the air.
Xingyi Boxing is one of China's deadliest internal martial arts. The genius is, you can't see a scratch on the outside, but inside? Total wreckage. Like, you punch an old cow, and it just keeps standing there munching grass—but its guts have already turned to a pool of blood.
That's why Xingyi is known as the king of fists—if Tiger Fang lands a hit, even if you don't drop dead, your insides are guaranteed to be wrecked.
Tiger Fang's mastery of Xingyi is next-level. He never touched a single pill—just brutal training day in, day out. Not only did he forge real inner power, he broke through to the innate realm. That kind of hard-earned innate strength is what lets you unleash it to the max.
Those Wuzhou High martial team kids? Sure, they're talented and level up crazy fast—compared to normal folks, it's like rocket speed. But honestly, their success is all about the Azure Dragon Society's Pill Hall feeding them pills every day. Without those pills, even the best coach couldn't build a so-called martial dream team.
That's exactly why Stanley Hong hired Tiger Fang as the Hong family's boxing coach. Watching him get fired up now, Stanley is convinced—even if Ryan Ling wins, his insides are toast.
While all these thoughts flashed by, Tiger Fang's fist was already in Ryan Ling's face. Ryan didn't budge—still sitting like a statue, cool as a god.
"You little punk! Daring to look down on me—Tiger Fang, the king of Xingyi Boxing? I'm taking your head!" Tiger Fang was absolutely furious at Ryan Ling's reaction, roaring as he redirected his punch straight at Ryan's temple.
"Idiot!" Ryan Ling took a sip of tea, then casually flicked out two fingers at Tiger Fang's iron fist. Instantly, it was like Tiger Fang's punch got hit by a sledgehammer—he couldn't control it at all and smashed straight into the table next to him, which exploded into splinters, showering him in food.
"What... what kind of move was that? Did you guys see that?" The Hong family's second young master shivered, then said, "I heard this kid wiped out Wuzhou High's martial team with just a few glances. I didn't buy it before, but now he just flicked Tiger Fang away with two fingers—this guy's way too freaky!"
"Dad, did you see that?" Even the eldest young master broke out in cold sweat. Ryan Ling's first move was just unreal. The Dai and Qiu clan killers, who'd been grinding their teeth, now exchanged nervous glances and instinctively stepped back.
"Tiger Fang, as long as you can hurt that kid, the thumb ring is yours!" Stanley Hong barked, gritting his teeth.
"Don't worry, Old Master Hong. If I don't kill him today, I won't even want the ring!" Tiger Fang wiped the grease off his face, his features twisting into a snarl. Innate qi exploded from his body—everyone could see his muscles bulging, shirt buttons popping off, his whole frame swelling up like a giant block of muscle.
"What insane Xingyi power! Looks like he wasn't even using his full strength before!"
"You can tell his power's skyrocketed—his strength's gotta be seven or eight times higher now. Piss off a Xingyi master, and you're asking for pain."
"That thumb ring really does belong to Master Fang now!"
Seeing Tiger Fang suddenly power up, the crowd perked right up.
Now Tiger Fang, cold as a tiger, cracked a chilling smile and launched a savage punch straight at Ryan Ling.
In that instant, Ryan Ling suddenly shot to his feet.
"Now you wanna dodge? Too late!" Tiger Fang growled, sounding almost like a real tiger.
But after Ryan stood up, he didn't take another step. Instead, he suddenly reached out—planning to catch that punch with his bare palm.
Everyone saw it clearly. Some folks were totally stunned—catching a full-force Xingyi punch barehanded? That's just nuts.
But in a flash, there was a loud bang—everyone gasped. Ryan Ling's palm was totally fine, but Tiger Fang's fist was locked tight in his grip, all that wild energy popped like a balloon.
A brutal scream rang out—Tiger Fang's entire right fist was crushed into bloody pulp, the pride of his life wiped out in one go by Ryan Ling.
The whole crowd was dumbstruck. For a moment, nobody could say a word. Even Stanley Hong, who's seen it all, had rarely witnessed power like this.
"Alright, time to send you off!" Ryan Ling grabbed a napkin, wiped his palm, then stomped down on Tiger Fang's chest.
Tiger Fang gritted his teeth, face deathly pale, and quickly turned his head toward Stanley Hong.
Stanley Hong immediately shouted through gritted teeth, "Ryan Ling, you dare kill someone in my house? You dare kill someone in my house!"
Stanley Hong repeated himself, but Ryan Ling didn't even look at him. He just pressed down hard with his foot—and Tiger Fang's chest exploded, his organs pulverized.
"I already said, you're the one who forced me to go on a killing spree. I promised, so now I'm delivering—and honestly, killing you guys is like offing a bunch of dogs. Who's next in line to die?" Ryan Ling shot a cold glare at the sword master Thomas.
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Thomas turned white as a sheet, his sword trembling. He knew perfectly well—Ryan Ling was way stronger than the Hong family claimed. Facing Ryan's stare, he didn't dare make a move.
"If you're scared, just come at me together. Sending you off one by one is a waste of time!" Ryan Ling glanced back at the Dai and Qiu clan killers who'd come for revenge.
They looked at Tiger Fang, now just a pile of bloody mush, and their faces had already changed.
"I won't say it again—if you don't move, I'll start picking people myself!" Ryan Ling shot a sidelong glance at the Wuzhou killers.
Right now, his murderous aura was enough to push them to the brink of psychological collapse.
"Damn it, let's all go at once! I don't believe he's got three heads and six arms—no way he can take on all of us!"
"Yeah! I've faced plenty of masters back in Wuzhou—been through fire and water. No way we're losing to this snot-nosed brat today!"
"Hey, foreigner, what are you waiting for? Get in here! Everybody go all out—attack from every angle! I don't believe he can block us from all sides!"
The Wuzhou killers couldn't hold back any longer—they weren't ordinary fighters. Between the Dai and Qiu clans, there were seven of them, plus sword master Thomas, making eight.
All eight were armed—swords, knives, axes, hammers. Compared to barehanded Tiger Fang, they had a clear edge. Eight against one—if they still couldn't win, they might as well eat shit.
"Alright, let's all go together—I'll attack from behind!" Thomas took a deep breath, raised his sword, and darted behind Ryan Ling. Smart move—behind was everyone's blind spot, and Thomas's sword was all about speed. If he struck, it'd be like lightning.
"Good, everyone take your positions—eight against one, he's dead meat!" One of the Dai clan experts, clearly the leader, barked. On his signal, everyone got into position—some with swords, some with knives, axes, hammers, and one guy loaded up with throwing darts. Surrounded like this, Ryan Ling looked truly doomed, boxed into a kill zone...