Chapter 80: The Arrival of Liu Jingye

And so, a brutal brawl erupted—seemingly without reason, without enmity or feud. Yet, this was the very essence of the underworld.

Stone took a punch from a man of the Out-of-Town Gang, landing squarely on his eye socket. The pain made him stomp his foot and curse, “Damn it, mother, that hurts! What do you do for a living, you brat?”

The man answered honestly, “I twist rebar on construction sites!”

“Pah!” Stone spat fiercely, rubbing his eye as he looked at the man before him—standing ramrod straight, blood streaming from his nose. Stone swung another punch, this time landing again on the man’s nose bridge. He was a straightforward sort; once he set his target, he never changed.

The man felt as if his nose had snapped, blood pouring even faster. Wiping away the blood and tears, he didn’t dare delay—he threw another punch, this one slamming into the Out-of-Town Gang member’s temple.

Tragically, after that blow, the man did not rise again; he lay on his side, twitching slightly, blood quickly seeping from his nose and mouth.

It was a devastating strike, and the temple is a vital point—this punch might well have caused a concussion, or worse.

This was the difference between a seasoned thug and a construction worker. Raw strength is nothing against true experience in brawling.

No one from the Out-of-Town Gang expected one of their own to be felled in just two punches. They should have realized, though, that the gap between them and the crowd from Glory Tide was vast—a dying camel is still bigger than a horse.

Yet, despite this, the Out-of-Town Gang lingered, wanting to see who would ultimately emerge victorious.

The man from Glory Tide had long wanted to thrash Stone. Having taken two punches from Stone, he now brimmed with confidence; even men from Glory Tide had blood gushing from their noses after his fists.

Stone’s newfound confidence made him more relaxed. His third punch again found the man’s nose bridge; this time, the man bent over, clutching his nose, unable to stand for a long while. Tears streamed uncontrollably down his cheeks—his nose was likely broken, blood staining his shirtfront.

But the blow hadn’t sapped his strength. He swung a hook, landing squarely on Stone’s temple. Stone staggered but did not fall, nor did he show signs of concussion.

The man from Glory Tide had formidable attack power, but Stone, bullied since childhood, had an extraordinary tolerance for pain. It was a clash of opposites.

This punch, though not decisive, split Stone’s brow, blood instantly streaming down his face, giving him a savage, terrifying appearance. It also ignited his fierce bloodlust.

After that, the two launched into a savage melee. Every punch from the man from Glory Tide was heavy, each one textbook boxing—on a proper ring, every blow could have floored an opponent: the eye socket, the triangle region, the jaw. Stone was knocked down several times.

But Stone had fixed his sights on his opponent’s nose; every punch left the man’s nose more caved-in, as if it would soon be smashed into his face.

Blood stained the ground around their feet. They were like two wild beasts in a desperate struggle—one had to fall for the other to survive. It was truly a fight to the death.

Five minutes later, both men looked like swollen-headed pigs, bodies swaying, barely able to lift their arms, yet neither would yield.

All around, the crowd exhaled as one. The bloody spectacle left everyone breathless, hearts pounding, feeling as if the next punch would finally drop someone. Yet, both fighters stood firm.

At this point, their bodies had long since reached their limits; only sheer willpower kept them upright.

“That’s enough!” Just as both sides gathered their last ounce of strength for a final blow, Liu Jingye suddenly called a halt.

All eyes turned to him, full of reproach. It was like having the power cut at the climax of a drama—everyone wanted to see the final outcome.

But Liu Jingye knew that Stone was about to collapse; if he fell, the hard-won confidence and courage he had just built would vanish completely.

Facing the crowd’s stares, Liu Jingye said coldly, “We’re here to fight for territory, not to watch a bloodbath. If someone dies here, it won’t end well for anyone.”

At those words, the crowd averted their gaze. Stone and the man from Glory Tide nearly collapsed at the same time—Stone from exhaustion, the other from blood loss.

“So how do we decide the winner?” someone from Glory Tide asked.

Liu Jingye stepped forward, pointing at the Out-of-Town Gang. “You’re eliminated. Do you accept that?”

The members exchanged glances. At last, their leader gritted his teeth and nodded, “We accept!”

“You’re not to come back here causing trouble again.”

“Fine!”

The Out-of-Town Gang departed, disgruntled. Lin Shengnan and a few others clenched their fists in excitement; one less rival, though the remaining threat was all the more fearsome.

“It’s a draw between our two groups. We can settle it in another round,” Liu Jingye declared.

He crouched down, patting the now unrecognizable, pig-headed Stone with a satisfied smile. “Well done, Stone. Leave the rest to me.”

“You…” Lin Shengnan started to speak, surprised—none of them expected Liu Jingye to step forward himself.

Before she could finish, someone from Glory Tide spoke up, “Shouldn’t we get to decide the terms for the next round?”

“Fair enough,” Liu Jingye nodded, stepping boldly ahead.

Lin Shengnan fell silent. The initiative had shifted to the other side; the rules of the next round were unknown, yet sending Liu Jingye was the best chance they had.

The men from Glory Tide exuded bravado. The two who’d been injured earlier—One Ear and the man with the broken nose—hadn’t left; they stood in the ranks, clutching their wounds, enduring the pain, refusing to withdraw. This display greatly boosted the morale of their group, and they felt supremely confident about the second bout.

“We came here to fight for turf—violence is inevitable,” said another leader from Glory Tide. “But since we’re all in this game, there are no rules. For this round, we’re sticking to one-on-one combat, but this time it’s a real fight—not just a brawl. And you’re not allowed to use a gun.”

“Agreed,” Liu Jingye replied, having anticipated their challenge. That was why he volunteered—Glory Tide’s greatest asset was their battle-hardened fighters, men whose combat prowess far surpassed Lin Shengnan’s crew, including experts known as Twin Blade Redsticks.

“Then hand over your gun,” the man demanded.

Liu Jingye sneered, “Out of the question. No one makes me disarm.”

“That’s not acceptable!” The Glory Tide men erupted, voicing their objections.

“Silence!” Liu Jingye snapped impatiently. “I’m armed, but if you play fair, so will I. Otherwise, you’re free to rush me—I’ll only get off a few shots before you overwhelm me. Surely Glory Tide isn’t afraid of that?”

“Let him keep it,” a voice came from within the Glory Tide ranks—a harsh, accented voice, sounding like a non-local struggling with the standard dialect.

The men of Glory Tide fell silent and stepped aside, forming a path. From their midst emerged a short man, no taller than one meter sixty-five, thin and wiry, with high cheekbones and slanting brows. His triangular eyes gleamed with a sharp, predatory light.

He approached with small, controlled swings of his arms, his steps light—obviously a skilled fighter.

“So, there is a real expert,” Liu Jingye narrowed his eyes, instantly discarding any trace of arrogance.

He stood quietly, adjusting his stance to bring his body into perfect balance.

The short man stopped in front of him, a full head shorter, yet he raised his chin and met Liu Jingye’s gaze, lips pressed tight, exuding a fierce aura.

Liu Jingye smiled faintly. Despite his focus, his face showed a hint of contempt, as if a giant were sizing up an ant.

“We’ve agreed: free-style fighting, no guns, until one falls or surrenders,” someone from Glory Tide confirmed.

“Enough talk!” Liu Jingye snorted, concentrating fully.

The short man locked eyes with him, then suddenly lashed out with a kick aimed at Liu Jingye’s abdomen.

“Poisonous move!” Liu Jingye cursed, but he was ready—he leaped back, the kick missing its mark. Instantly, the short man switched tactics, rolling forward and sweeping at Liu Jingye’s legs.

His small stature made attacking Liu Jingye’s lower body a wise choice.

Liu Jingye sprang upward, ignoring the pain in his body, and kicked toward the short man’s shoulder. The man rolled aside, avoiding the blow.

Landing lightly, Liu Jingye closed in, punching straight for his opponent’s face. The short man spun away, dodging the fist, his body twisting in toward Liu Jingye’s chest.

Liu Jingye swung his left arm, sending an elbow strike down, but the short man ducked. Liu Jingye’s knee shot up; the short man, unable to dodge, crossed his arms to absorb the impact, stumbling back several steps, shaking his arms to relieve the numbness.

“Not bad. You’ve got some skill,” he said in his accented voice, his triangular eyes brimming with murderous intent.

Though the exchange had seemed simple, it all happened in a flash. Once Liu Jingye’s punch missed and his opponent closed in, his stance began to unravel. His punch hadn’t recovered, the elbow missed, but even so, he managed a powerful knee strike—his waist and back strength must have been extraordinary.

“Again!” the short man shouted, charging forward. The onlookers gasped as his speed doubled, so fast he seemed to leave afterimages.

Liu Jingye felt it most keenly—the man’s figure blurred, and in an instant, he was upon him, a flying kick aimed at Liu Jingye’s knee.

The sudden acceleration caught Liu Jingye off guard, but he didn’t panic. He ignored the attack, launching a straight punch at his foe’s face.

“Thud, thud…” Two dull sounds rang out—both men landed their blows at the same time.