At that moment—

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Two black shadows, one from the left and one from the right, suddenly emerged from behind the wooden door, rushing toward Ding Sheng’s back with fierce wind.

It was two ebony sticks.

Each stick was gripped in the hands of two sneering youths.

They were from Zhao Ming’s gang.

The ebony sticks, as hard as iron, aimed directly at the back of Ding Sheng’s head, clearly intending to take his life!

In a split second, Ding Sheng even caught a glimpse of Zhao Ming at the door of the hut, leisurely grinning with a sinister expression.

So Ding Sheng smiled back.

In the next instant, the sneer on Zhao Ming’s face transformed into confusion, surprise, and finally, shock.

Because he watched in disbelief as his carefully planned ambush not only failed but was effortlessly countered by Ding Sheng in an unbelievable way—despite the two youths attacking first, Ding Sheng’s fists, like lightning, struck out in a blur, landing hard on each of their faces.

“Ah…”

“Puh…”

Two shrill cries rang out.

With blood splattering and teeth flying, the sneers on the attackers’ faces never had a chance to turn to fear; their faces were instantly crushed and deformed.

Then their bodies flew backward like rag dolls struck by a hammer, crashing through the fence.

Ding Sheng coolly blew off the blood from his fists and strode into the center of the courtyard.

The few youths hiding nearby were already paralyzed with fear, frozen in place.

The mastermind Zhao Ming, facing the murderous Ding Sheng, felt as though he was looking at a terrifying ancient beast. His courage dissipated in an instant, and he instinctively retreated a few steps, nearly falling to the ground.

At that moment, he was utterly terrified, turning to scramble away, pushing open the door to flee into the hut.

“Song Shixiong, he’s coming! Song Shixiong…” Zhao Ming screamed in panic.

Inside the hut, golden sunlight poured through the door frame, illuminating a boy in a blue robe with a square face, who sat cross-legged with closed eyes, exuding a calm aura. A beautifully crafted steel sword, still in its sheath, rested across his knees.

“What’s the panic?” the square-faced boy slowly opened his eyes.

“Song Que Shixiong, he... he... Ding Sheng is here!” Zhao Ming spoke in a rush, completely shaken by Ding Sheng’s two punches.

At that moment, Ding Sheng arrived at the hut's entrance.

The golden sunlight shone behind him, obscuring his face and casting a shadow that created an illusion of anger, as if he were a walking grim reaper, exuding an indescribable aura.

“So you’re the arrogant little brat Zhao Ming spoke of?” Song Que slowly rose, holding the sword.

At his feet lay the red cotton jacket, once hanging on the wall of the hut.

This jacket, the only memento left by Ding Sheng's sister, which he had always treasured, was now being used as a mat by this uninvited blue-robed boy, sitting beneath him and stepping on it.

Ding Sheng's gaze instantly froze on the jacket.

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“Kid, do you know who I am? I’m Song Que, an outer disciple of the Sword Asking Sect. Zhao Ming is my friend. You’ve offended him, so you’ve offended me. However, I’ve heard your swordsmanship is passable, though you’re a bit arrogant. If you pledge allegiance to me, I can overlook this…”

Song Que spoke haughtily, like a peacock, looking down at Ding Sheng.

“Go to hell!” Ding Sheng suddenly replied.

“What? What did you say?” Song Que was taken aback, momentarily unable to respond.

“I said, you arrogant fool, go— to— hell—!!” The last few words burst from Ding Sheng’s teeth.

With that, Ding Sheng launched a punch.

This was the strongest punch he had ever thrown after his adventure in the cave.

Fast as lightning.

Powerful as thunder.

The air exploded with a deafening roar.

Song Que only saw a blur before the crushing force hit him. He barely had time to raise his sword across his chest to block the punch that seemed capable of shattering a mountain.

Clang!

The sword trembled with a mournful cry.

Song Que’s face flushed red, unable to withstand even a second, and he was sent flying.

His body crashed into the wall of the hut, and with a crackling sound of splintering wood and stone, dust filled the air, debris scattered, and a human-shaped hole appeared in the wall as Song Que was thrown out.

“Clatter, clatter, clatter…”

Zhao Ming, watching from the side, felt his soul leave his body. A chill shot up his spine, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably, overwhelmed by fear.

Smack!

Ding Sheng casually slapped his hand back, as if swatting a fly.

Zhao Ming flew out from the doorway like a rag doll, his face instantly distorted, swollen like a ripe peach, blood splattering everywhere, and all his right-side teeth shattered.

Ding Sheng's face bore a pained expression as he slowly bent down to pick up the red cotton jacket, brushing off the dust and footprints.

“Little bastard, come out! You better come out, I’m going to kill you,” came Song Que’s furious roar from the courtyard, sounding like a wounded wild beast.

This proud disciple of the Sword Asking Sect, resembling a peacock, was clearly shaken by Ding Sheng’s earlier punch.

He was a martial artist at the Qi Sense stage, possessing over four hundred pounds of strength, with reaction speeds far exceeding ordinary people. Yet he was effortlessly knocked back by a single punch. For a moment, he lost the courage to retaliate, instead resorting to shouting taunts from the courtyard.

Ding Sheng tenderly folded the red jacket and placed it on the bed.

Then he turned around and stepped out.

In the courtyard, Song Que’s face no longer held the previous calm and composure; instead, it was twisted by intense anger and humiliation, transformed into a mask of rage.

His clothes were now dusted with grass, his hair slightly disheveled, but he was uninjured.

Most importantly, he slowly drew his sword.

A shimmering silver light radiated from the sword, dazzling to the eyes.

It was evidently a high-quality forged steel sword.

A faint red glow flickered around Song Que, now appearing and disappearing.

Song Que’s expression darkened, the fire of fury burning within him, almost beyond control. He fixed his gaze on Ding Sheng, filled with resentment and unwillingness. The humiliation of being knocked back by Ding Sheng’s punch pierced deeply into his heart, leaving him no choice but to retaliate.

“How dare you treat me like this!” Song Que shouted, his voice like thunder before a storm, deafening.

He tightened his grip on the sword, which gleamed coldly in the sunlight, seemingly spurring him on.

Ding Sheng stepped out of the hut, his expression calm, as if the earlier strike had left him unfazed. The sunlight cast a shadow over his tall figure, making him appear even more composed.

“I have never feared anyone, especially ignorant fools like you,” Ding Sheng replied coldly, his voice low yet firm. Before he finished speaking, he took a step forward, closing in on Song Que.

Feeling Ding Sheng’s approaching pressure, Song Que experienced a surge of unease. He fought to suppress his fear, thinking to himself: “This kid is definitely a formidable opponent. That punch earlier left me no room to fight back, I must be careful!”

“Watch my sword!” Song Que roared, swinging the sword, its light shooting out like a fierce tiger pouncing, aimed straight at Ding Sheng. The air grew tense under the sword’s brilliance, as if time itself had halted.

Ding Sheng smiled faintly, his eyes flashing with provocation. He did not evade; instead, he advanced directly to meet Song Que’s attack. Just as the sword was about to strike him, Ding Sheng’s body moved like lightning, skillfully dodging the attack. His speed astonished Song Que, as if everything had been anticipated.

“Your move isn’t fast enough,” Ding Sheng said calmly, and then he struck.

With lightning speed, he gathered his inner strength, delivering a powerful punch aimed directly at Song Que’s abdomen.

“Ah!” Song Que gasped, feeling as if he had been struck by a heavy hammer. The force knocked him back, nearly losing his balance. The sword in his hand trembled slightly, almost slipping from his grasp. His face turned pale, as anger and humiliation intertwined.

“Come again!” Although Song Que felt fear, he refused to back down, gathering all his strength for another attack. The sword light rushed forward, aiming to hit Ding Sheng. Ding Sheng's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his determination; he smiled slightly, channeling his power to its peak, easily dodging again.

He knew that he couldn't let his guard down against such a stubborn opponent. Ding Sheng took a deep breath, power converging within him in an instant, his fist striking out with the force of a storm.

“This time, I’ll let you witness true power!” Ding Sheng said softly, his fist like a landslide, unstoppable. Panic surged in Song Que’s heart, but he refused to accept defeat.

“I will never lose to you!” he gritted his teeth, a fierce determination in his heart. He had resolved that even if he were wounded, he would stand and fight Ding Sheng to the end!