Chapter 48: Fists Like Dragons

The entire second floor of White Cloud Pavilion was nearly drenched in blood; out of a dozen or more people, some were dead, others left maimed. Bones and severed limbs lay scattered everywhere.

Wang Haiyang, never having witnessed such carnage, retched violently and vomited on the spot.

Only Lin Feng remained unmoved, calm as a mountain. This was but a handful of men; Lin Feng had seen far worse when he wiped out entire clans with a wave of his hand.

Cheng Longjian shook the blood from his hands and strode forward slowly, pressing in, “To die by my hand is your good fortune! As for you, Wang Jisheng, you’ll be the one thousand and thirty-second. Rest assured, I’ll use every method I’ve mastered over the past twenty years, making sure you’ll beg for life and death alike, but find neither!”

His gaze was sharp, his expression twisted—he was like a ferocious beast ravenous for prey. He had waited too long for this day, the fire of hatred burning within him for years.

His murderous intent was so intense that even Wang Jisheng, a kingpin of Binhai’s underworld, was thrown into chaos, his heart in turmoil, his entire body trembling.

“Cheng... Cheng Longjian... I’ll hand over the entire Jisheng Society to you, if only you’ll spare me! Thirty years of my life’s work—at least three billion in cash, and annual assets worth three hundred million! It’s all yours, take it all!”

“Oh? I never thought you’d fold so quickly. Where’s the formidable Wang Jisheng of the old days? Begging for mercy now? Too late!”

With a burst of speed, Cheng Longjian appeared before Wang Jisheng and kicked him hard in the abdomen.

A strangled cry escaped Wang Jisheng’s lips as he coughed up blood, his organs aflame. He doubled over like a wounded reptile, clutching his stomach, tears of blood streaming down his face.

“Father!” Wang Haiyang, seeing his father beaten so brutally, was overcome with rage and tried to rush forward, only to be restrained by Lin Feng.

“Haiyang! Stay back!” Wang Jisheng barked, spitting blood from his mouth. He slowly bent his knees and knelt, prostrating himself on the floor, trembling as he spoke, “Cheng Longjian, do whatever you want with me—even if you tear me to pieces, I don’t care. But I beg you, spare my son Wang Haiyang’s life!”

“Spare your son? I can, if you crawl like a dog before me!”

“Father, don’t!” Wang Haiyang pleaded.

But Wang Jisheng, for his son’s sake, got down on all fours and stuck out his tongue, imitating a dog.

“Now bark for me!”

“Woof, woof, woof—”

“Not bad, Wang Jisheng, not bad at all. Now crawl under my crotch.”

Wang Jisheng trembled all over. In over forty years, he had never known such humiliation. But today, for his son—the only heir to the Wang family—he had to endure.

Lin Feng glanced at Wang Jisheng, a flicker of respect surfacing in his heart. To go this far for his son’s survival was no small thing.

Wang Jisheng, hand quivering, crawled slowly toward Cheng Longjian’s feet like a beaten dog.

“Faster—is that all you’ve got? If you’re hungry, I can feed you something warm. They say a dog never learns not to eat filth. I wonder, Wang Jisheng, can you master the art?”

At his words, Wang Jisheng shuddered violently. Was it not enough to be humiliated? Did he mean to...

“I’ll—!”

Wang Haiyang could bear it no longer, seeing his father so degraded. He clenched his fists and prepared to charge Cheng Longjian.

At that moment, Cheng Longjian lifted his head and fixed Wang Haiyang with a venomous smile, like a viper awaiting its prey.

Just as father and son reached the depths of humiliation, a cold, serene voice rang out.

“Wang Jisheng, I told you before—if you wished for my help again, it would not be so simple. I want you and your son to bow to me and become my servants from this day forth. What do you say?”

In an instant, the White Cloud Pavilion fell silent as snow; you could hear a pin drop. Every eye turned to the young man seated serenely on the sofa.

Yes, it was Lin Feng.

Cheng Longjian glanced at Lin Feng, his lips curling into a cruel smile, his words laced with malice. “Kid, I wasn’t planning to kill you so soon, but you’re walking right into death’s embrace. I want to see—are you truly fearless, or is your martial prowess above Luo Qiankun’s?”

“But no matter. Crushing you will be child’s play.”

“Mr. Lin, please leave! This man is insane—if you don’t go now, you’ll never get the chance!” Wang Haiyang, recalling Qi Heng’s warnings, tugged at Lin Feng, desperate for him to escape.

But Lin Feng sat immovable, as if rooted to the spot.

Cheng Longjian, bloodlust surging, showed no mercy. His right arm bulged with muscle, swelling like a mountain as he readied to strike. His feet splashed through puddles of blood on the floor, each step echoing like the clapping of death itself.

He planted his massive frame before Lin Feng, a ferocious smile on his face as he looked down. “Go to hell and repent, boy!”

With another explosive punch, the force whipped up a fierce wind, the gusts howling, as if carrying hell’s own whisper from Cheng Longjian.

At this critical moment, Wang Jisheng suddenly raised his head and, with the last of his strength, shouted, “I accept! So long as Haiyang lives, so long as I survive, I, Wang Jisheng, will be your servant from this day forward!”

“Very good, Wang Jisheng. Don’t forget your promise today.”

Lin Feng’s brow arched, a faint smile playing on his lips.

The farce was about to end.

Just as Cheng Longjian’s fist was less than a centimeter from Lin Feng’s face, Lin Feng finally moved.

“Eight Gates Formation—Gate of Rest, Lotus of Ninefold Purity!”

A mysterious incantation echoed. Cheng Longjian suddenly saw nine pristine lotus blossoms appear before him. The lotuses swayed gently on jade-green waves, and at the edge of the water, a golden horizon shimmered—sea and sky one, the peerless lotuses shining with sacred light.

A moment later, as the vision faded, Cheng Longjian felt a fist slam into his chest and abdomen.

Blood burst from his mouth, mingled with shredded organs. His two-hundred-pound, muscle-bound form flew through the air like a rag doll, catching only a fleeting glimpse of the yellowed ceiling and the blood spraying mid-air.

He crashed more than ten meters away, landing heavily. At a glance, his body seemed untouched, not a bruise to be seen, but inside, his organs were ruined, extinguished as if by a dying candle.

“How can this be...”

Not just Wang Jisheng and his son, even Luo Qiankun—collapsed on the floor—was thunderstruck.

What had just happened?

A moment ago, Cheng Longjian was poised to deal Lin Feng a killing blow.

But in a split second, Lin Feng had turned the tables with a single punch, sending Cheng Longjian flying!

Cheng Longjian, whose murderous might had overwhelmed even Luo Qiankun—a martial arts master of formidable inner strength—was defeated by this nameless young man?

Had the world gone mad?

Cheng Longjian struggled to his feet, blood bubbling from his lips. He threw his head back and laughed wildly. “True energy unleashed, energy forged into steel, death at a finger’s snap! I never thought I’d meet a master of Grandmaster level here. I truly underestimated the world!”

“Seems I have no choice but to use my ultimate move to face you!”