469: Chapter 458: Sending You Phlegm 469: Chapter 458: Sending You Phlegm “Seems like I underestimated you just now; you’re truly a rare talent that comes once in a century,” Hou said with a faint smile.
“Well, thanks for that,” Song Yun replied calmly as he exerted his “Dark Strength” to resist Hou.
“But you’re still too young.
If you were to grow up, I’m afraid even I wouldn’t be able to beat you,” Hou’s eyes gleamed with fervor as he licked his lips with excitement and yelled, “Finally, I’ve encountered an interesting young man.
The money was well worth it.”
“Fuck, didn’t you say you came to kill me because of a favor, not for money?” Song Yun clenched his teeth and said, now that they were enemies, swearing didn’t matter anyway.
Damn it, Song Yun felt he was already being quite well-mannered for not cursing the man’s female relatives.
Song Yun was feeling like the character Tang Sanye from “Let the Bullets Fly” who took his wife on a train out of the city, eating hotpot and singing songs when suddenly bandits robbed them.
Hou was no different from those bandits—no, he was even more domineering than the bandits; at least they didn’t kill people, while this son of a bitch planned to kill him.
“I’m human too, you know.
I need to eat, drink, smoke, and chase girls—all of that costs money.
Moreover, his favor isn’t worth so much money,” he said as if he wasn’t the least bit strained.
Damn it, this son of a bitch has profound “Inner Strength.” Song Yun squinted and stomped on the ground with such force that the floor cracked beneath his feet with several cracking sounds.
Song Yun staggered as a hole about a meter in diameter suddenly appeared below both of them.
Cracks started to spread outwards from the hole.
Hou didn’t expect Song Yun to employ such tactics, which made him lose his balance.
A smile stretched across his face as he said excitedly, “Not bad—you’ve got guts and brains.
No wonder those old fogeys see you as an enemy.”
“Motherfucker, all this trouble stirred up by a bunch of old geezers,” Song Yun lightly tapped the ground with his right foot, and like a bird taking flight, he drew back swiftly.
“Hahaha, actually I’m really annoyed by those old geezers too.
They don’t have much ability, but they still love causing trouble every day.
At their age, they might be buried in the yellow soil any day now.
What the hell are they fussing about?” Hou laughed maniacally as he nodded.
“But what can I do when I owe them a favor?
Return a favor, borrow again—that’s not difficult.”
Song Yun flexed his right hand without saying a word.
His body taut as an arrow shot from a bent bow, he spun in the air and delivered a whip kick toward Hou.
In a fight, the most basic elements are strength and speed.
Technique is a secondary matter.
For Song Yun and someone at Hou’s level, it’s all about the collision of strengths.
None of those crooked moves during a fight would be of any use.
Just as you’re executing a tricky low kick, you could get punched right in the temple.
Hou took a deep breath, clenched his left fist with a slightly bent middle finger, and collided with the sole of Song Yun’s foot.
One silent second later, a blast of air exploded from where Song Yun’s sole and Hou’s middle finger met.
Song Yun bent backward mid-air, using the force to fly away to a short distance.
As soon as he landed, he lunged back into the attack.
Song Yun knew that although he was on the offensive, Hou still held the upper hand.
The fight for Hou was like playing, a mere matter of defense and hand-waving.
If Hou used his full strength, Song Yun was sure he wouldn’t last ten rounds.
“There’s plenty of time; we’re not in a hurry,” Hou said, blocking Song Yun’s attacks while laughing, “Still too young…”
Before he could finish, Song Yun cleared his throat and spat a mouthful of phlegm directly into Hou’s mouth.
Song Yun then laughed like a child who had just played a prank, “Don’t talk nonsense during a fight.
If you’re gonna fight, fight, don’t be a fucking poser.”
Spitting repeatedly, Hou convulsed as if he were retching, unable to believe that Song Yun, the little bastard, would stoop to such a level.
How had this despicable little bastard managed to live so long without being beaten to death?
In a duel between experts, seriousness is generally expected.
Even if you used a hidden weapon, I wouldn’t have faulted you as I’m taking advantage of being older, but spitting in my mouth?
Are you fucking aware how many contagious diseases are spread through saliva?
What if you had AIDS or some STD and passed it to me?
That would really fuck me over.
It took quite a while before Hou could shake off the shock.
With a dark expression, he looked up at Song Yun and bellowed with hatred, “I’m going to kill you.
I’m gonna kill you.”
Having said that, Hou’s body burst into action.
Song Yun could only see a blur rushing towards him.
Before his body could react, he felt a great force strike his chest.
He rolled several times on the ground before being stopped by a fence.
“I’m going to kill you.
I’m going to kill you,” shouted Hou, his face flushed with rage.
“You little bastard, you’re dead for sure today, no matter who comes to save you.”
Song Yun, lying on the ground, spat out some blood, ready to stand up when his opponent charged at him again, grabbed his collar, tossed him into the air, then flew up to join him, clasping his hands together to hammer down viciously on Song Yun’s stomach.
If pain could be rated on a scale of ten, Song Yun’s condition would have hit the eleven mark.
He felt as though his body had come apart, the pain was unbearable, and he was sure that the blow to his stomach must have caused internal bleeding.
Damn it, this guy’s combat strength was genuinely formidable.
“This third move will finish you,” Hou said, his eyes bloodshot as he glared at Song Yun.
Song Yun now understood the real gap between him and the true experts.
Though his combat strength was considerable, facing such powerful opponents, he was simply being toyed with.
The battle so far had been nothing but child’s play, like a cat teasing a captured mouse.
In terms of speed, in terms of strength, he was far surpassed by them.
Song Yun struggled to his feet, bent over in pain.
He might collapse with any step.
As the punch drew closer, he could only chuckle bitterly; he was about to die.
It seemed life was playing tricks on him.
He had intimately known each of the ladies in the villa, and it pained him to think who might inherit his place.
They say one’s life flashes before their eyes before death, and Song Yun was no exception.
However, at this moment, things suddenly changed.
A towering figure appeared before him, seemingly effortlessly reaching out to catch Hou’s punch.