Translator: Lonelytree Editor: Millman97
Ping!
Seven Kills pulled back his arms at the clutch moment. His palms, which were protected by the metallic braces, firmly grabbed the sleeve blade.
“The time for games is over,” Seven Kills said as a cold glint shone in his eyes, as if announcing that it was time to get serious. Xiao Tan tautened his wrist and snapped the sleeve blade to break away from the opponent’s control. He countered with the claw and slashed.
Peng!
This was the sound of his fist making contact with flesh. But it sounded like a running car running into a cow. Xiao Tan had just raised his hand when Seven Kills’ punch landed on his chest. The punch shot forward like lightning.
Fresh blood burst out of Wang Tanzhi’s lips as he was sent flying. At that moment, everyone who saw the match went silent as they focused on the screen, reminiscing that scary hit. Seven Kills did not use any skill. He merely activated his Soul’s Eye—”Fatal Punch.”
The effect of this Soul’s Eye was simple and direct, and it allowed him to ‘perform the most powerful punch that his body could support.’ It could be seen as the weaker version of Passing Rain’s “Extreme Efficiency.” Of course, since the effect was weaker, he was less exhausted. The mental exhaustion on Seven Kills after using “fatal punch” was not as impactful as it would have been on Passing Rain.
A night breeze blew through the barrens field.
When Xiao Tan dropped to the ground, he still had 36 percent Life Points. The broken ribs cut into his internal organs, and that caused him to bleed. It could not be undone by any bandage. That blow had shattered his chance of winning. When he was hit, Xiao Tan’s breathing and blood froze like ice. In his eyes, at that moment, time seemed to stop. He didn’t even feel pain. He only remembered how everything around him seemed to stop. He then floated backward, as if carried by the wind. When he came to, he was already lying on the ground, and the pain from all parts of his body ravaged him.
Fear—it felt so familiar. He seemed to have experienced it before. That was from so long ago. He was once lying on the ground helplessly as he watched a large figure walking toward him. This familiar feeling…it was so blurry yet so clear.
Ten years ago in a small alley inside City S, four young ruffians about the age of twenty were crowded around a secondary school student who was much smaller than they were. At the corner of this alley was a boy wearing the same uniform. He was slightly fat and had freckles all over his face. His eyes were filled with terror and fear. Even though he knew he was the cause of this violence, he did not dare to speak up.
“Tsk… He’s not responding anymore,” one of the ruffians said.
Another said, “You’re just a kid from secondary school, and you dare to come and mess with me?”
The young man was lying on the ground, his life beaten out of him, but he had not lost his consciousness. The four saw this, and they stopped beating him. Instead, they took out their cigarettes and started to smoke.
“Hey, fatty.” One of the ruffians turned to the boy cowering at the corner. “Do you know him?”
“No, I don’t,” the fat boy answered cowardly.
“Ha!” The ruffian gave the young man another violent kick. “F*ck you! You must be mad…or do you think you’re some kind of hero?” He laughed menacingly.
“Pew…” His friend puffed out the smoke and said in a mocking tone, “I’ve heard of heroes saving beautiful girls, but I’ve never heard about heroes saving a pig.” That was apparently a very funny joke. Several seconds later, one of them spat on the ground and placed his feet on the young man’s head. “Kid, you are quite gutsy to come here…” Still holding the cigarette, he pointed to the kid in the corner and said, “That pig volunteers to be our ATM. What has that got to do with you!” So the young man saw the ruffians extort his schoolmate, and he came over to stop them.
“Yo! Wait a sec. I just noticed this kid is wearing branded shoes,” one of them said. “This pair costs about a thousand each.”
“Let me see… They’re not fake, are they?” another person said.
“Hmm… Doesn’t look like it,” the man said, “Look at the kid. He’s well-dressed, and other than the school uniform, the rest of his clothes are branded.” He paused and scoffed. “He’s probably the son of some rich family.”
“Oh, a rich second-generation kid, isn’t he?” another added.
“Hah…Young master, you must think you are above everyone, don’t you?” One of the ruffians squatted down and pulled the young man up by his hair. “I hate pompous people like you the most in this world.” He walked away and picked up a rusted pipe.
“Hey…you’re going to kill him.” Even his partner started to panic. After all, the young man was almost fainting. If they attacked him with a blunt object, he might just die.
“Trust me, it’ll be fine,” said the ruffian as he grabbed the pipe and walked toward the young man. He said with a wicked grin, “Young Master, you want to be a hero? Today, I will give you a free plastic surgery procedure so that in the future, you will remember this valuable lesson. They say money can buy anything. Let’s see if they can buy you a new face after I’m done with you.” He raised the pipe, and five minutes later…
Feng Bujue, who wore the same uniform as Wang Tanzhi, appeared at the mouth of the alley, mumbling. “I was held back to do homework again. Xiao Tan should have gone home already.” He then caught something from the corner of his eyes, and that scene caused Feng Bujue’s blood to freeze. He saw his best friend, Wang Tanzhi, gripping an iron pipe, smashing an adult’s head in. The man had collapsed on the ground, his right leg was spasming wildly, but he made no sound—or perhaps he was unable to make any sound.
In the alley, three other adults were lying on their backs. All of them were covered in blood, and they were that they looked like they were dead. Their limbs were twisted in strange angles. Their joints were probably broken.
“Hey! Hey!” Feng Bujue roared as he ran into the alley. Xiao Tan heard him and lifted his head to look at Brother Jue.
Feng Bujue had not forgotten that scene until today. It was an expression that he had not seen on Wang Tanzhi before. He looked so peaceful and quiet, like one of an enlightened monk who had seen through the vagaries of the world. This look was not the look that anyone would casually see on a young man. The blood on his face was still wet, but he did not seem to mind it. His arm moved mechanically as he whacked at the defenseless man’s head again and again.
Feng Bujue saw very clearly that in Wang Tanzhi’s pupils, there was a strange fiery glow.
“I’m surprised that you’d forced me to use this skill,” Seven Kills said as he walked toward Xiao Tan. “I planned to keep this until the Battle of the Butterfly.” He sighed. “But you’re not bad. However, it won’t make any difference. I never lose a battle, so I’m sorry!”
He raised his arm and delivered the final blow on Xiao Tan, but he missed.
“Hmm?” Seven Kills was startled. He can still move? He raised his head to look for his opponent. “Or should I say you still haven’t given up?”
Xiao Tan chuckled. “You say you never lose a battle?” Xiao Tan’s tone changed to become extremely disdainful. “A trash like you?”