Autumn winds howled, the long street was bleak, flames were rising, shadows gathered, only to be blasted away like cannonballs, crashing to the ground, spilling blood. Seven carriages, askew, blocked the street front and back, pedestrians scattered in panic, peering from the distant taverns and tea houses.

Seven carriages, even with their large compartments, could only hold eight or nine people each. As these martial artists in various attire and wielding different weapons appeared, the initial impression was just another brawl, a common sight on the streets of Hangzhou these days. But the name "Bao Dao-yi" hinted that the situation was far from a mere scuffle. Those near and far who understood the significance of the name realized that this entire convoy was being intercepted by a young man in his twenties.

As Ning Yi pushed his small cart back, Chen Fan was already advancing towards Bao Dao-yi, using a carriage shaft as a weapon, kicking away anyone who charged him. This battle on Pingchang Street that afternoon was straightforward from the start.

Chen Fan wasn't stupid, but at least in combat, he didn't need fancy tactics. While Bao Dao-yi himself had come personally, dealing with a group of kids didn't require his best troops. Even so, those under Bao Dao-yi involved at this level were no ordinary individuals. They were heads of small and medium-sized martial arts sects or notorious bandits who had truly honed their skills and killed many. Normally, each could take on three to five soldiers single-handedly. However, as people from the nearby carriages surrounded him with swords and sabers, they truly began to grasp the astonishing skill of the lone man named Chen Fan.

Few of those accompanying Bao Dao-yi knew that Chen Fan was a disciple of Buddha-Marshal Fang Qi, but even knowing it, they wouldn't be too wary of the young man. They were all established figures in their thirties and forties, having tasted blood and struggled for years. Perhaps they had been disregarded because they were martial artists, some even reduced to street performers, but they had real skills and wouldn't fear a fight. They believed that this young man charging head-on at the convoy might be skilled, but he was either crazy or desperate, his head clouded by adrenaline.

They didn't expect that this young man had been exceptionally talented since childhood, later becoming a disciple of Fang Qi, practicing various martial arts, and participating in the entire rebellion, fighting his way through the fiercest battles and surviving. Among Fang La's army, the only one who could spar with him on equal footing was Liu Xigua, a fellow prodigy.

After the fall of Hangzhou, he was lethargic and relaxed. Even during his brief tenure as an enforcer, his seemingly brutal and unreasonable methods were just his way of handling internal conflicts. But now, he had adopted a battle-ready stance, prepared to fight to the death!

The first to surround him were eight or nine men from the third carriage. Seeing the coachman's whip snatched and torn to pieces and the man himself pulled down, they immediately drew their weapons and charged, no longer underestimating him. But with a twist of the carriage shaft in Chen Fan's hand, the leader was still kicked squarely in the chest and sent flying. This man was the head of a Southern martial arts sect called Divine Fist, known for his resilience and solid foundation, but he coughed up blood and rolled on the ground with just one kick.

No one paid attention to the flying figure. The surrounding attacks came all at once. The man on the left aimed a pair of eagle claws at Chen Fan's shoulders and pressure points. This man was Tang Zhenchuan, known as "Iron Claws of Zhenchuan." Simultaneously, sabers, swords, and spears attacked from the right and rear, filled with murderous intent. But in the next moment, they were caught in a whirlwind!

Tang Zhenchuan had immersed himself in Eagle Claw for over thirty years. In that instant, Chen Fan exchanged blows with him twice. The first was a casual elbow strike, and then his hand changed. Tang Zhenchuan saw the young man's grappling hand approaching, resembling an eagle's claw, a tiger's claw, yet also seemingly casual and without any method. He briefly thought that this was an amateur, and then their hands intertwined, and the sound of bones breaking rang in his ears. As always, he had directly crushed the opponent's bones, but his vision spun wildly.

The carriage shaft swung in a massive arc, howling like a tiger! Chen Fan grabbed Tang Zhenchuan, dragging him towards the center of the crowd. A bald monk wielding an iron staff collided with the carriage shaft, staggering back as if electrocuted, and countless splinters exploded in the air. Tang Zhenchuan's body, suddenly pulled and spun, almost flying, blocked the saber and sword attacks from the left. Chen Fan lowered his body while charging, as if glued to Tang Zhenchuan's back. But to those in front, the young man looked like a tiger pouncing!

They almost instinctively retreated. Tang Zhenchuan's body landed without stabilizing – in fact, it was impossible to stabilize. It should be said, before he fell, pain came from his arm. Grapple against grapple, his forearm was broken, and Chen Fan was still behind him, the carriage shaft whirling in his hands, forcing back the surrounding people, and held high in the air.

A mountain-splitting chop!

Splinters and flesh exploded into the sky. Tang Zhenchuan, almost facing away from Chen Fan, took this violent swing squarely on the back of his head without any defense. His corpse, along with a man charging from the side, flew out together. At this moment, Chen Fan had once again lunged out like a cheetah. In front of him were a couple of swordsmen, weaving a web of blades. They were momentarily stunned by Chen Fan's bravery, and instinctively retreated.

The others had rushed forward as a group, but in a short while, the encirclement had been torn apart. However, the experienced martial artists from the sides and rear were still chasing quickly. Chen Fan rolled on the ground, directly pressing towards the swordsmen. The couple looked to be in their twenties, the man handsome and the woman beautiful, and their swordsmanship was quite fierce. But Chen Fan seemed to have adopted a low-down fighting style from the start. He had pulled Tang Zhenchuan while crouching, and now he was still crouching and rolling, then directly attacking the man's lower body, causing him to be flustered.

After all, martial artists value face, and while ground-fighting techniques exist, they are difficult to popularize. Whether in competitions or feuds, attacking someone's legs and lower body seems a bit despicable, especially for this couple, who wouldn't research ways to counter such attacks. But Chen Fan had survived on the battlefield. When scattered on the battlefield, surrounded by enemies, ground-fighting techniques might be the most life-saving. His martial arts were already near perfection. Now, he was merciless, and the couple immediately knew they couldn't resist. Seeing him attack the man, the woman shifted her feet and swung her saber to help, but in the next moment, Chen Fan grabbed her calf, and her body flew into the air.

Chen Fan grabbed the woman's body, weighing over a hundred pounds, and swung it around like a sack, forcing back the people who were surrounding him. One of them, unable to stop in time, slashed the woman's shoulder with his blade, drawing blood. The swordsman roared and reached out to hug his wife. Chen Fan still held the woman's right foot in his hand. He felt incredibly ashamed and angry at being humiliated in front of everyone. She kicked at Chen Fan's head with her left foot.

Chen Fan was swinging the woman around with one hand. With her upper body held by her husband, he grabbed her left foot, tore at her legs, and kicked towards her lower body.

Chen Fan didn't bother to think about anything else, but the woman's scream echoed throughout the long street. Someone shouted from the side, "You villain, how dare you!" The husband fell several meters away with his wife in his arms. Chen Fan was ruthless. This kick would ruin her life. He didn't look at his wife and, grabbing his sword, charged again: "I'll kill you!"

Chen Fan's feet didn't stop for a moment. He waved his hand to block the man's sword arm and chopped at his shoulder and neck. The sounds of cracking echoed. Chen Fan advanced five steps, and the man retreated. He took countless fists and palms to his head, face, and neck, each strike drawing blood.

"Only your woman counts as a person!?"

With this roar, Chen Fan slammed a monument-splitting hand on the man's face, sending him flying several meters away. He was obviously dead. At this moment, Chen Fan had passed the woman on the ground. Seeing her husband dead, she cried out in grief, grabbed the saber, and leaped up to stab him. Chen Fan rolled on the ground and kicked the woman in the stomach. As the woman's body fell, Chen Fan stood up, stepped forward, and swung a fist from above, smashing the woman's head and body into the ground, mangling her beyond recognition.

He stepped over the corpse. The man who had shouted "You villain, how dare you" had also charged. He was a Taoist priest in his fifties, but Chen Fan crossed to his chest and slammed a violent headbutt into his head, sending blood flying. The Taoist staggered backward, fell to the ground.

"I don't think any of you count."

The battle had only just begun, but his feet hadn't stopped. He passed the third carriage, heading towards Bao Dao-yi. His head was covered in blood from the headbutt. He wiped it with his hand, but his hands were now covered in more blood. This made his expression even more ferocious.

Bao Dao-yi had gotten out of the carriage, his face filled with anger. He slammed his palm on the carriage next to him, the carriage shaking, the horses neighing in panic.

"Chen Fan! Do you think I can't kill you?!"

"Bao Dao-yi! Do you think I can't kill you?!"

"Heh... haha..." Bao Dao-yi laughed out of anger. After a moment, he roared, his hair and beard standing on end. His voice echoed across the long street like thunder: "Chen Fan! Just because the tiger isn't showing its power, don't think I'm a sick cat! Even if Buddha-Marshal were here today, you're dead!"

"Hehe." Chen Fan laughed as well, but his smile was eerie amidst the blood: "Just because the tiger isn't showing its feline nature, I thought you were dying... How's that?" The last words also echoed throughout the long street.

The atmosphere froze for a moment. In the next moment, Bao Dao-yi flicked his horsetail whisk and charged out!

Seeing Bao Dao-yi suddenly attack, the martial artists on the entire long street also charged towards this side at the same time.

Chen Fan raised his head, his eyes filled with contempt for everything.

Black shadows swarmed like ants, obscuring the sun on this late autumn afternoon. (To be continued.) Vote for recommendations and monthly tickets. Your support is my greatest motivation.)

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