At around seven in the evening, Huang Quan stepped out of the hotel and casually chose a spot on the street to have dinner. He hadn't eaten all day, having spent it entirely engrossed in studying the Hell Apartment. Now, with his stomach growling, he was eager to enjoy a hearty meal.
Just as he was halfway through his meal, several burly men approached him. Leading them was Lei Zhan, who pulled up a chair and sat directly across from Huang Quan. Without even glancing up, Huang Quan continued eating his food.
“You’re Huang Quan, aren’t you?” Lei Zhan asked coldly.
Huang Quan remained silent, focused on his meal.
Lei Zhan, not in any rush, continued slowly, “Do you have any idea that you've crossed someone you shouldn't have?”
Still, Huang Quan said nothing, picking up a piece of meat with his chopsticks and placing it in his mouth. He turned to the owner and said, “Boss, you’ve overcooked this meat a bit, but it’s delicious!”
The owner shot a nervous glance at Huang Quan but didn’t dare respond. He recognized the man sitting opposite Huang Quan—Lei Zhan, Longcheng’s most feared fighter. Anyone who ended up on his radar was either dead or severely crippled. The owner kept quiet, not wanting to get involved.
Lei Zhan, however, was still patient, smiling as he looked at Huang Quan, though his eyes already gleamed with murderous intent. But one of his underlings was less so; he slammed a hand on the table and spat, “Didn’t you hear what our boss just said?”
“Are you pretending to be deaf?”
Lei Zhan waved a hand, still smiling. “Huang Quan, it seems you don’t know who I am. If you’re smart, you’ll cut off one of your arms yourself. It’ll save me the trouble, and it’ll hurt you a lot less.”
“But if I have to do it, it won’t just be one arm.”
Huang Quan gave a cold smile, continuing to eat, showing no intention of acknowledging Lei Zhan’s words. The meal was almost finished, but the last bite, known as the “fortune bite,” was the most delicious of all, according to common folks. Just as Huang Quan was about to savor that final morsel, Lei Zhan grabbed a nearby pair of chopsticks and blocked his bowl.
“You’d better not refuse a toast only to be forced to drink a forfeit! No one’s ever ignored me like this before. I’m offering you a way out, and you’re not taking it. Don’t blame me if things get ugly!”
This time, Huang Quan finally lifted his gaze, giving Lei Zhan a cold, piercing look. He had no intention of letting anyone interfere with his “fortune bite.” But after that one icy glance, Huang Quan simply maneuvered the bowl around Lei Zhan’s chopsticks and brought it to his mouth.
Lei Zhan felt a chill run down his spine—how could someone’s eyes be so cold? He had encountered many people in his life. Most would be trembling with fear at the sight of him; some would even wet themselves before he made a move. But this Huang Quan showed not an ounce of fear; his gaze was as chilling as ice, as if he were a hunter eyeing his prey. That look made Lei Zhan’s patience waver and his fear rise.
The more terrified people like Lei Zhan became, the more they felt the need to assert their dominance.
With a loud crash, Lei Zhan suddenly stood up, knocking his chair to the ground. The other diners, sensing the impending conflict, scattered in all directions.
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This time, he didn’t use chopsticks to block Huang Quan’s bowl; he went straight for it with his hand. But it was as if Huang Quan had anticipated his move; he leaned back slightly, and the last bite slipped into his mouth.
“Hmm, the fortune bite really is the best!” Huang Quan said, smacking his lips in satisfaction, rubbing his now full belly.
Lei Zhan’s temper flared, his eyes nearly spitting fire. This guy had not only dodged his move but had also finished his meal right in front of him—a humiliation to a martial artist like him. Infuriated, he flipped the table over, snarling, “Alright, kid, today I’ll show you what Lei Zhan is really capable of!”
With a signal from Lei Zhan, his men encircled Huang Quan. At a nod from their leader, they rushed at Huang Quan, aiming directly for his vital points.
Huang Quan chuckled. He had thought he would never need to use his close-combat skills in this lifetime, but it seemed the time had come to put that particular "rent payment" to the test.
Just as the fists came flying toward him, Huang Quan remained unhurried, stepping back with a measured calm. Suddenly, he felt a surge of heat coursing through his back, where his tattoos flickered in and out of visibility. The warmth spread to his limbs, igniting a latent power within him.
As the fists drew perilously close—mere inches away—Huang Quan gathered his strength and raised his arms in defense. The assailants’ fists collided with his body, producing a resounding "clank" as if they had struck solid steel. Before they could process what had happened, Huang Quan swung his arms with force, releasing a powerful wave of energy that surged from within him.
The thugs froze in place, feeling the energy ripple through them, shattering their insides as though their organs had been crushed by the sheer force. The impact sent them flying through the air, and when they hit the ground, blood trickled from their mouths.
Those who had not yet engaged hesitated, their fists raised in uncertainty as they watched the scene unfold. Huang Quan stood at the center, untouched, while the others lay scattered around him, either writhing in pain or completely unconscious.
Lei Zhan, observing from the outer edge of the fray, was astonished by the display. “Such powerful inner strength!” he exclaimed, unable to hide his awe. As a martial artist, Lei Zhan had heard tales of inner strength, but he had never witnessed it firsthand, much less mastered it himself. His experience in combat had always been rooted in brute force, yet today, he had encountered something truly extraordinary.
With a shout, Lei Zhan rallied his men, “Brothers, grab your weapons!”
He couldn’t afford to lose face—not as Longcheng’s top fighter. His men obeyed, drawing long knives from behind their backs. At Lei Zhan’s command, they charged at Huang Quan once more.
But Huang Quan remained unfazed, the blades seemingly insignificant to him. Unbeknownst to his opponents, the tattoos on his body had transformed into pronounced muscles, as if he had donned an invincible suit of armor. The sound of metal striking flesh was replaced by a high-pitched clanging, as if the knives were hitting iron instead of human flesh.
With a casual flick of his arm, Huang Quan unleashed another wave of energy, combined with the hardness of his body. The force shattered the blades in the attackers’ hands, reducing them to fragments. Huang Quan stood unaffected, the glow of his muscles flickering beneath his skin.
In that moment, Lei Zhan’s entire crew was defeated, every one of them laid out on the ground, either moaning in pain or rendered unconscious. Only Lei Zhan and Huang Quan remained standing.
Lei Zhan’s legs trembled, but as Longcheng’s premier fighter, he couldn’t afford to concede. He gritted his teeth and, with a determined resolve, drew the knife strapped to his back, launching himself at Huang Quan.
Unlike the others, Lei Zhan’s attacks were disciplined, each move executed with precision and intent. Huang Quan acknowledged this with a slight nod—finally, an opponent worth the effort.
As Lei Zhan’s knife sliced toward his face, Huang Quan effortlessly dodged, the blade whistling past his ear. Seizing the opportunity, Huang Quan aimed a punch at Lei Zhan’s abdomen.
Sensing the danger, Lei Zhan quickly retracted his knife, sidestepping just in time to avoid the blow. His eyes widened in realization as he smirked, believing he had gained the upper hand. He swiftly countered with a strike aimed at Huang Quan’s lower spine.
But Huang Quan remained calm, a small smile playing on his lips.
A loud "crack" echoed through the space. The onlookers, already laid out on the ground, stared wide-eyed at the two figures still standing, frozen in silence. Then, suddenly, someone shouted, “Lei Ge!”