Chapter 26: Smashing Through the Hall with Fist and Kick

In fact, Mad West didn’t seem mad at all on the surface; he even looked perfectly normal. Dressed neatly in suit trousers and a vest, he could have easily passed for a stockbroker just off work. He wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, which gave him a particularly refined appearance.

“Brother Shanwei, you called for me,” Mad West greeted as he walked into the restaurant, his tone lacking much deference, even though Shanwei was the leader of their branch.

“I’ve arranged a fight and need you here to handle it,” Shanwei said.

“If there’s a fight, that’s good enough for me. Just point out my target, and I’ll take him down,” Mad West replied coolly, showing not the slightest hint of madness.

Shanwei gestured toward the direction where Lu Feng sat, indicating that today’s opponent was right there.

In truth, there was no need to ask—there were only two people seated in the main hall, so it was obvious the young man sitting opposite Shanwei was the challenger.

Lu Feng looked truly young, and Mad West couldn’t quite understand why he’d been called to fight someone like this.

“Please.” Mad West wasted no words, inviting Lu Feng to step forward.

Shanwei also stood, signaling his men to clear the tables set with food and wine, then called out with great formality, “Set up the ring for our Brother Mad West!”

A group of underlings began moving the round tables into the center of the hall, joining them together to form a large platform. Because the tables were round, the platform was riddled with gaps and hollows.

Mad West had once been a back-alley boxer, and he particularly enjoyed fighting on a makeshift stage—it brought out the wildness in him. Shanwei, showing respect, had his men create this ring especially.

With a nimble flip, Mad West jumped onto the platform and beckoned to Lu Feng.

Lu Feng didn’t mind fighting atop these tables. He pressed one hand on the edge of a table and leapt up.

“Before we start, I have one question: to what extent must I defeat you for it to count as a win?” Lu Feng asked, reasoning that if a ring had been set, this must be a formal duel, which ought to have rules for winning and losing.

“You’ll have to kill me if you want to win,” Mad West replied, yanking off his tie and tossing it aside. He hunched over, eyes fixed intently on Lu Feng, his entire demeanor transformed—suddenly, he was like a starving, crazed leopard.

“Isn’t that a bit too cruel?” Lu Feng still hoped to follow his old master’s teachings and become a physician who healed rather than harmed.

Mad West gave him no chance to say more; he lunged forward, sending a fist straight for Lu Feng’s temple.

This man’s attacks were vicious—Lu Feng’s first impression was that Mad West was aiming to kill. A blow to the temple was fatal.

Seeing the incoming fist, Lu Feng stepped back lightly, dodging the strike.

Mad West’s punch skimmed past Lu Feng’s nose, and immediately he launched a second move—a snake fist thrust at Lu Feng’s throat.

This attack was just as deadly; if it landed, it would shatter the windpipe.

Lu Feng frowned slightly, and in a flash, seized Mad West’s wrist. “This is just a match. Do you really need to be so ruthless?”

Mad West threw back his head and laughed maniacally. “Once you step onto the ring, someone must die—either you or me!”

“Lunatic…”

Mad West said no more. He yanked his arm free from Lu Feng’s grip and spun, unleashing a sweeping roundhouse kick at Lu Feng’s head.

Lu Feng was growing angry. He had never met Mad West before; there was no enmity between them. Even for a duel, such viciousness was unnecessary.

As the kick came at him, Lu Feng didn’t dodge by ducking; instead, he summoned his inner strength, raised his arm, and blocked the roundhouse kick head-on.

Bang!

Their forces collided, but Lu Feng didn’t budge an inch. Having blocked the kick, he stepped forward and stomped down, smashing the round table beneath his foot to pieces.

Crash!

The table shattered and collapsed. Lu Feng seized Mad West’s leg and pinned him into the hollow formed by the smashed table.

“You’ve lost,” Lu Feng announced, standing tall and dusting off his hands. He had knocked Mad West off the stage, which meant victory.

Mad West, however, was not finished. His eyes turned even wilder, like a vicious dog. He lunged again.

Lu Feng’s frown deepened; he despised those who ignored the rules of fair combat. As Mad West charged, Lu Feng lashed out with a kick as swift as lightning, striking Mad West’s abdomen and sending him flying.

Mad West crashed to the floor seven or eight meters away, clutching his stomach and howling. Supporting himself with one hand, he tried to rise, but Lu Feng’s kick had truly done damage—his insides felt as if they were turning over. Any ordinary man would have passed out.

Lu Feng looked at Mad West coldly and said, enunciating every word, “If you can’t accept defeat, don’t take up the challenge. If you come at me again, I won’t hold back.”

Shanwei and his men stared in shock. In their eyes, Mad West was a terrifyingly strong madman—so strong that no one dared face him. Yet this boy, who had appeared out of nowhere, had put him down in just a few moves, leaving him unable to even stand.

Moreover, from Lu Feng’s words, it was clear he hadn’t even gone all out.

Lu Feng turned to the dazed Shanwei. “I won. You said the winner calls the shots.”

Sweat was beading on Shanwei’s forehead. He feared Lu Feng would demand the six streets of Hongqiao, which would mean losing all the territory he had fought so hard to claim.

He forced himself to remain calm, sat back down, and said, “Alright. What do you want? Name it.”

“You just claimed to be a man of principle, though that was a lie. But I truly believe in rules, so…” Lu Feng pointed to Shrimp Head, who stood behind Shanwei. “That man must lose both hands.”

Shrimp Head had robbed Su Muyu’s bag and knocked her unconscious. If Lu Feng hadn’t happened by, the consequences would have been unthinkable. Lu Feng would not let him go.

Shanwei’s expression darkened, but his branch had run into a tiger today. If Lu Feng insisted on attacking further, there was nothing he could do.

So he made his decision at once and raised his hand. “Drag him over. Break his hands!”

Two thugs immediately grabbed Shrimp Head, who wailed for mercy, and forced him before Shanwei, pressing his hands onto the table. One of them picked up a chair and brought it down with force.

Bang!

A heartrending scream tore from Shrimp Head as he collapsed, trembling, his clothes instantly soaked in cold sweat.

Lu Feng’s gaze moved from thug to thug behind Shanwei, finally resting on Leopard.

Leopard blanched. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg, but he had a reputation in Hongqiao, with over a dozen men under him. If he begged for mercy now, no one would follow him again.

As he hesitated, paralyzed by fear, Lu Feng spoke.

“I see this one again—must be back for a follow-up since the last treatment didn’t work. How’s the cure this time? Isn’t it about time you paid your consultation fee?”

It took Leopard three seconds to understand. He hurriedly fumbled through his pockets, gathering three thousand yuan and placing it on the table. “The… the consultation fee…”

Lu Feng glanced at the amount and said sternly, “My rate’s gone up. Three thousand isn’t enough.”

“Not… enough?” Leopard stammered, “How much… do you want?”

Lu Feng crossed his two index fingers. “Ten times that.”

Leopard emptied his pockets onto the table, but he couldn’t scrape together the sum and looked pleadingly at Shanwei.

Shanwei nodded toward the restaurant’s counter, signaling Leopard to fetch it there.

His branch had just been broken through—thirty thousand was a small price to pay.

Leopard fetched thirty thousand from the restaurant’s counter, stacked it neatly on the table, and pushed it to Lu Feng.

…

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